"Ekh, Genya, you live for show! You have polished up your soul like a samovar before a holiday, "and you go about boasting, 'look how brightly it shines!' But your soul is really brass, and a very dull affair, too."
Sitanov remained calmly silent, either working hard or copying Lermontov's verses into his note-book. He spent all his spare time in this copying, and when I suggested to him:
"Why, when you have plenty of money, don't you buy the book?" he answered:
"No, it is better in my own handwriting."
Having written a page in his pretty, small handwriting, he would read softly while he was waiting for the ink to dry:
"Without regret, as a being apart,
You will look down upon this earth,
Where there is neither real happiness
Nor lasting beauty."
And he said, half-closing his eyes:
"That is true. Ekh! and well he knows the truth, too!"
The behavior of Sitanov to Kapendiukhin always amazed me. When he had been drinking, the Cossack always tried to pick a quarrel with his comrade, and Sitanov would go on for a long time bearing it, and saying persuasively:
"That will do, let me alone!"