Rimsky lighted the fragment of an old cigarette and smoked a minute before he replied, pulling at his whiskers.
“New times, new troubles,” he said with tired voice. “We knew in the old times what to do to be happy, and likewise what not to do. It was all put down plain in the laws and the rules of the governors. Those who wanted better government did not know that bad government is better than none. Now it is all fighting, and no man trusts another. But I am not afraid, for my life is behind me. Now, when the railroad came here, it was said that everybody would be rich and happy. Before then we had only the mail-sledges, with their bells and horses. The people were happy enough, but for these educated fools always talking about what should be done with government and getting themselves and poor people into trouble. Now what do we have? All night an accursed ringing of railroad bells and screeching whistles till a man wakes in his bed, thinking the devil is calling. And people and cows get killed by the railroad—and mad soldiers come to kill and burn honest people. Is that good? Who is made rich thereby, and who is made happy?”
“Then you think you would be happier if the Czar were back,” suggested Peter.
“Is that what you have come to ask me?” demanded Rimsky, giving Peter a shrewd look. “Is it that you are counting those who want the Czar back?”
“No, no,” said Peter. “I have nothing to do with the government. I will not say to any one what you say.”
“I cannot be too sure of that,” said Rimsky, and blew the smoke from his cigarette upward. “But when the Czar ruled, I had a watch.”
“Do you want a Czar back?” asked Peter.
“Tchuk!” cried Rimsky. “The Czar is in a well, they tell me. But how do I know what to believe? First it is one lie, and then another, till our heads whirl and we get drunk to forget so much talk about nothing. How do I know but that the Czar is on his throne and eating fish-pie for his dinner?”
“But suppose a new Czar should come to the throne?”
“Ah, now you are trying to have me talk politics and get into prison. It does not matter. I want only a fire, my tea, a good soup with meat and bones in it, and a pair of boots—and men who can be trusted, even if they be Czar’s governors and cruel. Who is a man to appeal to now if he is robbed, as was I last month? In the old days robbers were hanged, and it taught them something, too.”