‘Martin Petrovitch! brother, be generous and forgive!’ faltered Souvenir.
‘Father! dear father!’
‘Silence, bitch!’ shouted Harlov. At Souvenir he did not even glance,—he merely spat in his direction.
XXVII
At that instant, Kvitsinsky, with all his retinue—in three carts—appeared at the gates. The tired horses panted, the men jumped out, one after another, into the mud.
‘Aha!’ Harlov shouted at the top of his voice. ‘An army … here it comes, an army! A whole army they’re sending against me! Capital! Only I give warning—if any one comes up here to me on the roof, I’ll send him flying down, head over heels! I’m an inhospitable master; I don’t like visitors at wrong times! No indeed!’
He was hanging with both hands on to the front rafters of the roof, the so-called standards of the gable, and beginning to shake them violently. Balancing on the edge of the garret flooring, he dragged them, as it were, after him, chanting rhythmically like a bargeman, ‘One more pull! one more! o-oh!’
Sletkin ran up to Kvitsinsky and was beginning to whimper and pour out complaints.… The latter begged him ‘not to interfere,’ and proceeded to carry out the plan he had evolved. He took up his position in front of the house, and began, by way of diversion, to explain to Harlov that what he was about was unworthy of his rank.…
‘One more pull! one more!’ chanted Harlov.