German who had managed to get hold of the rushes on the bank.

They all followed Insarov, and had to pass close by the party. But,
deprived of their leader, the rowdies were subdued and did not utter a
word; but one, the boldest of them, muttered, shaking his head
menacingly: 'All right . . . we shall see though . . . after that';
but one of the others even took his hat off. Insarov struck them as
formidable, and rightly so; something evil, something dangerous could
be seen in his face. The Germans hastened to pull out their comrade,
who, directly he had his feet on dry ground, broke into tearful abuse
and shouted after the 'Russian scoundrels,' that he would make a
complaint, that he would go to Count Von Kizerits himself, and so on.

But the 'Russian scoundrels' paid no attention to his vociferations,
and hurried on as fast as they could to the castle. They were all
silent, as they walked through the garden, though Anna Vassilyevna
sighed a little. But when they reached the carriages and stood still,
they broke into an irrepressible, irresistible fit of Homeric
laughter. First Shubin exploded, shrieking as if he were mad,
Bersenyev followed with his gurgling guffaw, then Zoya fell into thin
tinkling little trills, Anna Vassilyevna too suddenly broke down,
Elena could not help smiling, and even Insarov at last could not
resist it. But the loudest, longest, most persistent laugh was Uvar
Ivanovitch's; he laughed till his sides ached, till he choked and
panted. He would calm down a little, then would murmur through his
tears: 'I--thought--what's that splash--and there--he--went plop.' And
with the last word, forced out with convulsive effort, his whole frame
was shaking with another burst of laughter. Zoya made him worse. 'I
saw his legs,' she said, 'kicking in the air.' 'Yes, yes,' gasped Uvar
Ivanovitch, 'his legs, his legs--and then splash!--there he plopped