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three men were seated in silence by an empty bottle, and they looked attentively at this approaching couple.
One of them, who was clean shaven, like an actor, whistled, burst out laughing, and chuckled.
The heart of the youth sank within him, fright seized him, but, as if being pushed from behind, he went straight up to the men close by a path wound. Those wretches were waiting their opportunity, their eyes grew dark, motionless, and terrible! Wishing to engage the sympathy of these gloomy, ragged fellows, on whose faces he could read a cruel menace, and in order to show how defenceless they were, perhaps to awake pity, Nienioviecki inquired in an anxious voice:
“Where shall we find the turnpike? Is this the right way to it?” he asked.
The fellows did not answer. The one
