Chertoff began to sing. It was an old Russian folk-song, and it began like this:
“Sang a little bird, and sang,
And grew silent;
Knew the heart of merriment,
And forgot it.
Why, O little songster bird,
Grew you quiet?
How learned you, O heart, to know
Gloomy sorrow?”
He had sung this far when the door of the rear room was flung open and Gurtman, in angry mood, cried: