"Tatyána?"
And Kapíton's eyes fairly popped out of his head, and he started away from the wall.
"Well, what art thou scared at?... Is n't she to thy taste?"
"To my taste, forsooth, Gavríla Andréitch! The girl herself is all right; she 's a good worker, a meek lass.... But you know yourself, Gavríla Andréitch, that that forest fiend, that spectre of the steppes, is courting her, you know ...."
"I know, brother, I know all,"—the major-domo interrupted him, with vexation:—"but, seest thou ...."
"But, good gracious, Gavríla Andréitch! why, he 'll murder me; by Heaven, he 'll murder me, he 'll mash me like a fly! Why, he has a hand—just look for yourself what a hand he has; why, he simply has the hand of Mínin and Pozhársky.[29] For he 's deaf, he 'll kill me, and not hear that he is killing! He flourishes his huge fists exactly as though he were asleep. And there 's no possibility of stopping him. Why? Because, you know yourself, Gavríla Andréitch, he 's deaf, and stupid as an owl into the bargain. Why, he 's a sort of wild beast, a heathen idol, Gavríla Andréitch,—worse than an idol ... he 's a sort of aspen-block; why should I now suffer from him? Of course nothing matters to me now; I have endured, I have practised patience, I have smeared myself with oil like a glazed Kolómna jug,—all the same, I 'm a man, and not some sort of insignificant jug, as a matter of fact."
"I know, I know; don't give a description...."
"O Lord, my God!"—went on the shoemaker, hotly:—"when will the end come? When, O Lord! I 'm a miserable wretch, a hopeless wretch. 'T is fate, my fate, when you come to think of it! In my younger years I was thrashed by a German master; in the best period of my life I was beaten by my own brother; and at last, in my riper years, to what have I come?..."
"Ekh, limp linden-bast soul!"—said Gavríla.—"Why dost thou dilate on the matter, really, now?"