“Doesn’t take long to say what I had to say. Give the dog, and the money will be in your hands.”
“So-o,” drawled grandfather mockingly. “That means the sale of the dog, I suppose?”
“What else? Just an ordinary sale. You see, our little master is so crazy. That’s what’s the matter. Whatever he wants, he turns the whole house upside down. ‘Give,’ says he, and it has to be given. That’s how it is without his father. When his father’s here ... holy Saints!... we all walk on our heads. The father is an engineer; perhaps you’ve heard of Mr. Obolyaninof? He builds railway lines all over Russia. A millionaire! They’ve only one boy, and they spoil him. ‘I want a live pony,’ says he—here’s a pony for you. ‘I want a boat,’ says he—here’s a real boat. There is nothing that they refuse him....”
“And the moon?”
“That is, in what sense?” asked the porter.
“I say, has he never asked for the moon from the sky?”
“The moon. What nonsense is that?” said the porter, turning red. “But come now, we’re agreed, aren’t we, dear man?”
By this time grandfather had succeeded in putting on his old green-seamed jacket, and he drew himself up as straight as his bent back would permit.
“I’ll ask you one thing, young man,” said he, not without dignity. “If you had a brother, or, let us say, a friend, that had grown up with you from childhood—Now stop, friend, don’t throw sausage to the dog ... better eat it yourself.... You can’t bribe the dog with that, brother—I say, if you had a friend, the best and truest friend that it’s possible to have ... one who from childhood ... well, then, for example, for how much would you sell him?”
“I’d find a price even for him!...”