defaced by numberless streaks of stale oil, stood still and silent, as though it were as tired as its servants. Kuba did not stir; he stared in front of him as if he had been annihilated, looking without thought or consciousness at some object which he did not take in.
The overseer, who was putting on his overcoat, came up to him: ‘Well, Spattered Kuba,’ he addressed him, ‘if you have not found another job we will keep you on . . . what the devil has happened to your hand? I am always telling you men, you won’t be careful until one of you leaves his paw in the machine. And as you have told me that you get the toothache at that lever, you can change places with Strizek; there is no draught in that place.’
And the overseer moved towards the door: ‘Ah . . . haaaa . . .,’ he yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.
‘Sir,’ stammered Kuba, crushed with shame, while the tears were rising in his eyes, ‘sir, God repay you. . . .’
‘Don’t be a fool, old man, you know we have got to be strict. I have had to put in a good word for you with the manager. If it hadn’t been for those twins . . .
