‘As an act of justice ... as it’s the duty of one poor man to help another poor man.’
‘Indeed! It’s the first time I’ve heard that. I had supposed till now that that was rather the duty of rich people.’
‘For the rich, if I may venture to say so, it is an entertainment ... but for such as we ...’
‘Well, well, that’s enough, that’s enough,’ my grandmother cut him short; and after a moment’s thought she queried, speaking through her nose, which was always a bad sign, ‘And what age is he, your protégé?’
‘About my own age.’
‘Really, I imagined that you were bringing him up.’
‘Not so; he is my comrade—and besides ...’
‘That’s enough,’ my grandmother cut him short a second time. ‘You’re a philanthropist, it seems. Yakov Petrovitch is right; for a man in your position it’s something very peculiar. But now let’s get to business. I’ll explain to you what your duties will be. And as regards wages.... Que faites vous ici?’ added my grandmother suddenly, turning her dry, yellow face to me:—‘Allez étudier votre devoir de mythologie.’
I jumped up, went up to kiss my grandmother’s hand, and went out,—not to study mythology, but simply into the garden.