Before many minutes had elapsed Steinmetz came back, closely followed by
the starosta, whose black eyes twinkled and gleamed in the sudden light
of the lamp. He dropped on his knees when he saw Paul--suddenly,
abjectly, like an animal, in his dumb attitude of deprecation.
With a jerk of his head Paul bade him rise, which the man did, standing
back against the panelled wall, placing as great a distance between
himself and the prince as the size of the room would allow.
"Well," said Paul curtly, almost roughly, "I hear you are in trouble in
the village."
"The cholera has come, Excellency."
"Many deaths?"
"To-day--eleven."
Paul looked up sharply.
"And the doctor?"
"He has not come yet, Excellency. I sent for him--a fortnight ago. The
cholera is at Oseff, at Dolja, at Kalisheffa. It is everywhere. He has
forty thousand souls under his care. He has to obey the Zemstvo, to go
where they tell him. He takes no notice of me."
"Yes," interrupted Paul, "I know. And the people themselves, do they
attempt to understand it--to follow out my instructions?"
The starosta spread out his thin hands in deprecation. He cringed a
little as he stood. He had Jewish blood in his veins, which, while it
raised him above his fellows in Osterno, carried with it the usual
tendency to cringe. It is in the blood; it is part of what the people
who stood without Pilate's palace took upon themselves and upon their
children.
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