There I found three of Domojiroff's officers surrounded by the Polish soldiers and other foreigners under the leadership of my old trusted agronome, who was occupied with tying the hands of the officers behind their backs so strongly that the bones cracked.

Ending his work and still smoking his perpetual pipe, he announced in a serious and important manner: "I think it best to throw them into the river." Laughing at his seriousness and the fear of Domojiroff's officers, I asked them why they had started to attack me.

They dropped their eyes and were silent.

It was an eloquent silence and we perfectly understood what they had proposed to do.

They had revolvers hidden in their pockets.
"Fine!" I said.