I asked the cook about this, but he enveloped his face in a cloud of smoke, and said briefly in a tone of vexation:
"What are you chattering about now? Human creatures are human creatures. Some are clever, some are fools. Read, and don't talk so much. In books, if they are the right sort, you will find all you want to know."
I wanted to please him by giving him a present of some books.
In Kazan I bought, for five copecks, "The Story of how a Soldier Saved Peter the Great"; but at that time the cook was drinking and was very cross, so I began to read it myself. I was delighted with it, it was so simple, easy to understand, interesting, and short. I felt that this book would give great pleasure to my teacher; but when I took it to him he silently crushed it in his hand into a round ball and threw it overboard.
"That for your book, you fool!" he said harshly. "I teach you like a dog, and all you want to do is to gobble up idle tales, eh?" He stamped and roared. "What kind of book is that? Do I read nonsense? Is what is written there true? Well, speak!"
"I don't know."
"Well, I do know. If a man's head were cut off, his body would fall down the staircase, and the other man would not have climbed on the haystack. Soldiers are not fools. He would have set fire to the hay, and that would have been the end. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"That's right. I know all about Czar Peter, and that never happened to him. Run along."
I realized that the cook was right, but nevertheless the book pleased me. I bought the "Story" again and read it a second time. To my amazement, I discovered that it was really a bad book. This puzzled me, and I began to regard the cook with even more respect, while he said to me more frequently and more crossly than ever: