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The Monk's speech aroused such amazement and such joy that the

whole noisy assembly was silent for a moment; then they repeated

under their breath the words, "Tobacco from Poland? Czenstochowa?

Dombrowski? from the Italian land?" until finally all at once, as

if thought had fused with thought and word with word, all cried

with one voice, as if a signal had been given: "Dombrowski!" All

shouted together, all embraced one another; the peasant and the

Tatar count, the prince's hat and the cross, the white rose, the

griffin, and the ship; they forgot everything, even the

Bernardine; they only sang and shouted: "Brandy, mead, wine!"

Father Robak listened to the song for a long time; finally he

wanted to cut it short. So he took in both hands his snuffbox,

broke up the melody with a sneeze; and, before they got together

again, he hastened to speak thus:-

"You praise my tobacco, my good friends; now see what is going on

inside the snuffbox."