'Which way did the gentleman go?' he went on in the same tone, without putting on his cap.
'Over there.'
'I humbly thank you, sir.'
He made a kissing sound with his lips, swung his legs against his horse's sides, and fell into a jog-trot in the direction indicated. I looked after him till his peaked cap was hidden behind the branches. This second stranger was not in the least like his predecessor in exterior. His face, plump and round as a ball, expressed bashfulness, good-nature, and humble meekness; his nose, also plump and round and streaked with blue veins, betokened a sensualist. On the front of his head there was not a single hair left, some thin brown tufts stuck out behind; there was an ingratiating twinkle in his little eyes, set in long slits, and a sweet smile on his red, juicy lips. He had on a coat with a stand-up collar and brass buttons, very worn but clean; his cloth trousers were hitched up high, his fat calves were visible above the yellow tops of his boots.
'Who's that?' I inquired of Yermolaï.
'That? Nedopyuskin, Tihon Ivanitch. He lives at Tchertop-hanov's.'
'What is he, a poor man?'
'He's not rich; but, to be sure, Tchertop-hanov's not got a brass farthing either.'
'Then why does he live with him?'
'Oh, they made friends. One's never seen without the other.... It's a fact, indeed--where the horse puts its hoof, there the crab sticks its claw.'