“Well, would you like to see the colour of mine?” said Ivan, getting more and more drunk. “See here, here are kopecks, sorok-kopecks, blue notes worth five roubles, red notes worth twenty five roubles, and to-morrow, if you like, I will show you white notes worth fifty roubles. A health to my lady Vaninka!” And Ivan held out his glass again, and Gregory filled it to the brim.
“But does money,” said Gregory, pressing Ivan more and more,—“does money make up for scorn?”
“Scorn!” said Ivan,—“scorn! Who scorns me? Do you, because you are free? Fine freedom! I would rather be a well-fed slave than a free man dying of hunger.”
“I mean the scorn of our masters,” replied Gregory.
“The scorn of our masters! Ask Alexis, ask Daniel there, if my lady scorns me.”
“The fact is,” said the two slaves in reply, who both belonged to the general’s household, “Ivan must certainly have a charm; for everyone talks to him as if to a master.”
“Because he is Annouschka’s brother,” said Gregory, “and Annouschka is my lady’s foster-sister.”
“That may be so,” said the two slaves.
“For that reason or for some other,” said Ivan; “but, in short, that is the case.”
“Yes; but if your sister should die?” said Gregory. “Ah!”