Vassili Sergeyitch silently handed the men some money, climbed into the cart, and drove off.
"After that doctor again," said Semión, shuddering from the cold. "Yes, look for a real doctor—chase the wind in the field, seize the devil by the tail, damn him. Akh, what characters these people are! Lord forgive me, a sinner!"
The Tartar walked up to Semión, and looked at him with hatred and repulsion. Then, trembling, and mixing Tartar words with his broken Russian, he said:
"He is a good man, a good man, and you are bad. You are bad. He is a good soul, a great one, but you are a beast.... He is living, but you are dead.... God made men that they might have joys and sorrows, but you ask for nothing.... You are a stone,—earth! A stone wants nothing, and you want nothing. ... You are a stone, and God has no love for you. But him He loves!"
All laughed; the Tartar alone frowned disgustedly, shook his hand, and, pulling his rags more closely round him, walked back to the fire. Semión and the ferrymen returned to the hut.
"Cold!" said one ferryman in a hoarse voice, stretching himself on the straw with which the floor was covered.
"Yes, it's not warm," said another. "A galley-slave's life!"
All lay down. The door opened before the wind, and snowflakes whirled through the hut. But no one rose to shut it, all were too cold and lazy.
"I, for one, am all right," said Semión. "God grant everyone such a life."
"You, it is known, were born a galley-slave—the devil himself wouldn't take you."