We are all Galician.

We are all brothers.

Any man who says no, is no friend of Jacob Wassyl." Shouts of approval rose from the excited crowd.
"Come, brothers," shouted Jacob to Simon and Joseph, "come in.
There is abundant eating.

Make way for my friends!" He crowded back through the door, taking especial delight in honouring the men despised of Rosenblatt.
The room was packed with steaming, swaying, roaring dancers, both men and women, all reeking with sweat and garlic.

Upon a platform in a corner between two violins, sat Arnud before his cymbal, resplendent in frilled shirt and embroidered vest, thundering on his instrument the favourite songs of the dancers, shouting now and then in unison with the melody that pattered out in metallic rain from the instrument before him.