So deep was John Bogdan sunk in his misery, so engulfed in grim plans of
vengeance, that he did not notice a man who had been standing in front
of him for several minutes, eyeing him curiously from every angle.
Suddenly a voice woke him up out of his brooding, and a hot wave surged
into his face, and his heart stood still with delighted terror, as he
heard some one say:

"Is that you, Bogdan?"

He raised himself, happy at having been recognized after all. But the
next moment he knitted his brows in complete disappointment. It was
Mihaly the humpback.

There was no other man in the whole village, even in the whole county,
whose hand John Bogdan would not at that moment have grasped cordially
in a surge of gratitude. But this humpback--he never had wanted to have
anything to do with him, and now certainly not. The fellow might imagine
he had found a comrade, and was probably glad that he was no longer the
only disfigured person in the place.

"Yes, it's I. Well?"

The humpback's small, piercing eyes searched Bogdan's scarred face
curiously, and he shook his head in pity.

"Well, well, the Russians certainly have done you up."

Bogdan snarled at him like a vicious cur.

"It's none of your business. What right have you to talk? If I had come