Suddenly he gave a little chuckle--a guttural sound expressive of a somewhat Germanic satisfaction.
"I don't see how they can stop us," he said.

"The League, of course, is done; it will crumble away in sheer panic.

But here, in Tver, they cannot stop us." He clapped his great hand on his thigh with more glee than one would have expected him to feel; for this man posed as a cynic--a despiser of men, a scoffer at charity.
"They'll find it very difficult to stop me," muttered Paul Alexis.
It was now dark--as dark as ever it would be.

Steinmetz peered through the gloom toward him with a little laugh--half tolerance, half admiration.
The country was here a little more broken.

Long, low hills, like vast waves, rose and fell beneath the horses' feet.