real rest for us anywhere!"

"And even you beat your wife by mistake," some one remarks
humorously. And thus they speak till far on in the night or till
they have quarrelled, the usual result of drink or of passions
engendered by such discussions.

The rain beats on the windows, and outside the cold wind is
blowing. The eating-house is close with tobacco smoke, but it is
warm, while the street is cold and wet. Now and then, the wind
beats threateningly on the windows of the eating-house, as if
bidding these men to come out and be scattered like dust over the
face of the earth. Sometimes a stifled and hopeless groan is
heard in its howling which again is drowned by cold, cruel
laughter. This music fills one with dark, sad thoughts of the
approaching winter, with its accursed short, sunless days and
long nights, of the necessity of possessing warm garments and
plenty to eat. It is hard to sleep through the long winter
nights on an empty stomach. Winter is approaching. Yes, it is
approaching. . . How to live?

These gloomy forebodings created a strong thirst among the
inhabitants of the main street, and the sighs of the "creatures
that once were men" increased with the wrinkles on their brows,
their voices became thick and their behaviour to each other more
blunt. And brutal crimes were committed among them, and the
roughness of these poor unfortunate outcasts was apt to increase
at the approach of that inexorable enemy, who transformed all
their lives into one cruel farce. But this enemy could not be
captured because it was invisible.