Peredonov silently nodded,—he didn't grudge anyone a glass of vodka. Varvara shouted:
"Postman! Come in here."
The postman entered the room. He rummaged in his bag and pretended to be searching for the letter. Varvara filled a large vodka-glass and cut off a piece of pie. The postman watched her greedily. In the meantime Peredonov was trying to think whom the postman resembled. At last he recalled—he was the same red-pimpled knave who had made him lose so heavily at cards.
"He'll trick me again," thought Peredonov dejectedly, and made a Koukish[1] in his pocket.
The red-haired knave gave the letter to Varvara.
"It's for you," he said respectfully, thanked them for the vodka, drank it, grunted with satisfaction, picked up the piece of pie and walked out.
Varvara turned the letter and without opening it held it out to Peredonov.
"There, read it—I think it's from the Princess," she said with a smile. "What's the good of her writing? It would be much better if she gave you the job instead."
Peredonov's hands trembled. He tore open the envelope and quickly read the letter. Then he jumped up from his place, waved the letter and cried out:
"Hurrah! Three inspector's jobs, and I can have which one I want. Hurrah, Varvara, we've got it at last!"