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Page 4
"Well?" repeated Gavrila. "Well? And then you say well? You look like
Old Nick himself, God forgive my saying so, that's what you look like."
Kapiton blinked rapidly.
"Go on abusing me, go on, if you like, Gavrila Andreitch," he thought to
himself again.
"Here you've been drunk again," Gavrila began, "drunk again, haven't
you? Eh? Come, answer me!"
"Owing to the weakness of my health, I have exposed myself to spirituous
beverages, certainly," replied Kapiton.
"Owing to the weakness of your health! . . . They let you off too easy,
that's what it is; and you've been apprenticed in Petersburg. . . Much you
learned in your apprenticeship! You simply eat your bread in idleness."
"In that matter, Gavrila Andreitch, there is One to judge me, the Lord
God Himself, and no one else. He also knows what manner of man I be in
this world, and whether I eat my bread in idleness. And as concerning
your contention regarding drunkenness, in that matter, too, I am not to
blame, but rather a friend; he led me into temptation, but was
diplomatic and got away, while I . . ."
"While you were left like a goose, in the street. Ah, you're a dissolute
fellow! But that's not the point," the steward went on, "I've something
to tell you. Our lady . . ." here he paused a minute, "it's our lady's
pleasure that you should be married. Do you hear? She imagines you may
be steadier when you're married. Do you understand?"
"To be sure I do."
"Well, then. For my part I think it would be better to give you a good
hiding. But there--it's her business. Well? are you agreeable?"
Kapiton grinned.
"Matrimony is an excellent thing for any one, Gavrila Andreitch; and, as
far as I am concerned, I shall be quite agreeable."
"Very well, then," replied Gavrila, while he reflected to himself:
"There's no denying the man expresses himself very properly. Only
there's one thing," he pursued aloud: "the wife our lady's picked out
for you is an unlucky choice."
"Why, who is she, permit me to inquire?"
"Tatiana."
"Tatiana?"
And Kapiton opened his eyes, and moved a little away from the wall.
"Well, what are you in such a taking for? . . . Isn't she to your taste,
hey?"
"Not to my taste, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch? She's right enough, a
hard-working steady girl. . . But you know very well yourself, Gavrila
Andreitch, why that fellow, that wild man of the woods, that monster of
the steppes, he's after her, you know. . ."
"I know, mate, I know all about it," the butler cut him short in a tone
of annoyance: "but there, you see . . ."
"But upon my soul, Gavrila Andreitch! why, he'll kill me, by God, he
will, he'll crush me like some fly; why, he's got a fist--why, you
kindly look yourself what a fist he's got; why, he's simply got a fist
like Minin Pozharsky's. You see he's deaf, he beats and does not hear
how he's beating! He swings his great fists, as if he's asleep. And
there's no possibility of pacifying him; and for why? Why, because, as
you know yourself, Gavrila Andreitch, he's deaf, and what's more, has no
more wit than the heel of my foot. Why, he's a sort of beast, a heathen
idol, Gavrila Andreitch, and worse . . . a block of wood; what have I done
that I should have to suffer from him now? Sure it is, it's all over me
now; I've knocked about, I've had enough to put up with, I've been
battered like an earthenware pot, but still I'm a man, after all, and
not a worthless pot."
"I know, I know, don't go talking away. . ."
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