He woke at the sound of the shop-bell, and recognising the doctor, came forward to meet him, holding out both hands.
His black frock-coat, streaked with stains of acids and sirups, was much too wide for his lean little person, and looked like a shabby old cassock; and the man spoke with a strong Polish accent which gave the childlike character to his thin voice, the lisping note and intonations of a young thing learning to speak.
Pierre sat down, and Marowsko asked him: "What news, dear doctor ?" "None.

Everything as usual, everywhere." "You do not look very gay this evening." "I am not often gay." "Come, come, you must shake that off.

Will you try a glass of liqueur ?" "Yes, I do not mind." "Then I will give you something new to try.

For these two months I have been trying to extract something from currants, of which only a sirup has been made hitherto--well, and I have done it.

I have invented a very good liqueur--very good indeed; very good." And quite delighted, he went to a cupboard, opened it, and picked out a bottle which he brought forth.