"Some one advised me to learn weaving; but I should not have enough money to buy a loom, and I should not know where to find a place to put it. My own room is so small."
"Well, what are you thinking of doing?"
"Why, to tell you the truth, I came here to beg Procope--"
"Ah, ah! to make pots!" cried the chief of squadron. "Well, but if yours are no better than his, you will not make a fortune."
"Perhaps if he will only show me how to begin, in the end I may do better than he; but Procope is jealous of his knowledge and proud of his trade; he would not be willing to teach me."
"There is a way to remedy that difficulty," said the chief of squadron. "I will send for him and speak a few words to him. There are no secrets which he will refuse to share with you after he has received my orders."
Iermola shook his head sadly. "What one is forced to do, one never does well," he said.
"Well, see if he will do it of his own accord; and if you are not successful, I will come to your assistance."
Then after a few moments, the old man sent Iermola off much more tranquil and comfortable, and ordered him to present himself again in the evening and inform him of the result of his interview with Procope.