“There’s nothing for you to-night,” I said.
He laughed. “You’re a fine man, Barin. A foreigner is fine—that’s where the poor Russian is unhappy. I love you, Barin, and I will look after you, and if, as you say, there isn’t any money here, one must pray to God and he will show one the way.”
“What’s this work you’re going to do?” I asked him.
“There’s going to be trouble the other side of the river in a day or two,” he answered, “and I’m going to help.”
“Help what?” I asked.
“Help the trouble,” he answered, smiling.
“Behave like a blackguard, in fact.”
“Ah, blackguard, Barin!” he protested, using a Russian word that is worse than blackguard. “Why these names?... I’m not a good man, God have mercy on my soul, but then I pretend nothing. I am what you see.... If there’s going to be trouble in the town I may as well be there. Why not I as well as another? And it is to your advantage, Barin, that I should be.”
“Why to my advantage?” I asked him.
“Because I am your friend, and we’ll protect you,” he answered.