"Back, ye hounds," he shouted in his native tongue, "cannot ye give the gentry room to alight?"
If the Bharbazonians understood they made no sign; neither did they give back a pace, standing their ground like stolid cattle. The reign of the invader had left the common people in a condition little above the brute. Gone was the warlike spirit of their Slavonic ancestors who inhabited the banks of the Volga in the seventh century. I experienced a feeling of pity for them. Ignorance, poverty and suffering had been their birthright. I could scarcely bring myself to believe that Nick and the General were their countrymen.
"Welcome home, my General," exclaimed the Frenchman.
"Thank you, Marchaud," returned the General. "What news have you?"
"Ah, sir; such coming and going. The coronation is all the talk. The Grand Duke Marbosa was here yesterday with the young men. You know, General," he added, winking slyly.
"Yes, I understand," said Palmora. "What then?"
"He was impatient for your return. He has a plan which lacks only your approval."
"Humph. How goes the dinner?"
"You are just in time. Will you enter?"
Again he made a passageway through the peasants with angry shouting and waving of hands. They were all respect for the General; some bowed in the dust before him and others raised a feeble cheer. He paid no particular attention to them.