And Motka turned, seated himself on the bench, began drowsily, with twitching brows, to roll himself a cigarette. But apparently he had only a dim idea as to the identity of the person who was sitting by his side—who it was that was complaining to him about his fate....
On the following day that same Motka brought Tikhon’s note to Kuzma. And, once more, the noose which had come near strangling Kuzma broke.
At the end of September he went to Durnovka.