Upon this the onlookers plunge into a heated debate as to who was actually the beginner of the disturbance, while the lithe young fellow continues to wring his hands, and cry imploringly:
"DON'T make so much noise about it! Remember that we are in a strange land, and that the folk hereabouts are strict."
So queerly do his ears project from his head that he would seem to be able, if he pleased, to fold them right over his eyes.
Suddenly from the roseate heavens comes the vibrant note of a bell; whereupon, the hubbub ceases and at the same moment a young Cossack with a face studded with freckles, and, in his hands, a cudgel, makes his appearance among the crowd.
"What does all this mean?" he inquires not uncivilly.
"They have been beating a man," the woman from Riazan replies. As she does so she looks comely in spite of her wrath.
The Cossack glances at her—then smiles.
"And where is the party going to sleep?" he inquires of the crowd.
"Here," someone ventures.
"Then you must not—someone might break into the church. Go, rather, to the Ataman [Cossack headman or mayor], and you will be billeted among the huts."