softly and unconsciously repeated these words.
Suddenly a crowd of persons crying, bellowing, scolding, rushed out of a small inn in front of him. In the stream of light which burst forth from the open door gleamed heavy fists; laughter resounded,—they were beating some one. Then the light and the disturbance disappeared, and from the interior of the inn were borne the deadened sounds of singing and the wailing of an accordion.
From the dark pavement arose the figure of a man, who kept on cursing: “Mob! Rascals! Rascals! Scoundrels! I a cheat at cards! . . . You, sir,” turning to Jiří, “you know yourself how easily a card will fall from your hands upon the ground! Serves me right, serves me right! Why do I, an educated man, have anything to do with such scoundrels!” He walked by the side of Jiří.
“There you have our people! What a
