"The Germans."
"Oh, yes! The Germans are greedy, they are enemies of the Russian people, they want to conquer us. They want us to buy all our goods from them, and give them our bread. The Germans have no bread—queen of diamonds—all right—two of hearts, ten of clubs, ten—" Screwing up his eyes he looked up at the ceiling, sighed, and shuffled the cards. "In general, all foreigners envious of the wealth and power of Russia—one thousand two hundred and fifteenth deal—want to create a revolt in our country, dethrone the Czar, and—three aces—hmm!—and place their own officials everywhere, their own rulers over us in order to rob us and ruin us. You don't want this to happen, do you?"
"I don't," said Yevsey, who understood nothing, and followed the quick movements of the card-player's fingers with a dull look.
"Of course, nobody wants it," remarked Piotr pensively. He laid out the cards again, and stroked his cheeks meditatively. "You are a Russian, and you cannot want that—that—this should happen—therefore you ought to fight the revolutionaries, agents of the foreigners, and defend the liberty of Russia, the power and life of the Czar. That's all. Did you understand?"
"I did."
"Afterward you will see the way it must be done. The only thing I'll tell you beforehand is, don't dwaddle. Carry out all orders precisely. We fellows ought to have eyes in back as well as in front. If you haven't, you'll get it good and hard on all sides—ace of spades, seven of diamonds, ten of clubs."
There was a knock at the door.
"Open the door."
A red, curly-haired man entered carrying a samovar on a tray.
"Ivan, this is my cousin. He will live here with me. Get the next room ready for him."