long. Tell me, what dost thou think of doing with the widow?"
Yosef had a pipe in his hand; this he hurled violently into the corner of the room; then he sat down and looked Vasilkevich in the eyes.
"Question for question," said he. "Tell me, what hast thou to do with the matter?"
Vasilkevich frowned, became somewhat angry; still he answered calmly,—
"I ask as one comrade may ask another. Helena is not of that class of women who love one day but not the day following. Besides, through the memory of Potkanski each of his colleagues has the right to expect an answer to such a question."
Yosef rose; in his eyes blazes of anger were flashing.
"But if I give no answer, then what?" cried he.
Vasilkevich burst out in his turn,—
"Then thou thinkest, my bird, that we are going to let thee dupe this poor woman, and not ask what thy meaning is? Satan take thee! Thou must answer to us for the honor of Potkanski's widow. I am not the only man who will inquire about it."
They stood some time face to face, eye to eye, each with a storm on his forehead, as
