"Rum card that you are! you spoke as if it were true, and I listened and believed you. Now, God knows, formerly...."
"But I count for something, don't I? I tell you that formerly...."
"Go along!" said the lad, waving his hand. "I suppose you're a cobbler?—or are you a tailor? What are you?"
"What am I?" repeated Chelkash, reflecting a little—"I'm a fisherman!" he said at last.
"A fisherman! really?—you really catch fish?"
"Why fish? The fishermen here don't only catch fish. There's more than that. There are drowned corpses, old anchors, sunken ships—everything! There are hooks for fishing up all sorts...."
"Nonsense, nonsense! I suppose you mean the sort of fishermen who sang of themselves:
"'Our nets we cast forth abroad
On the river bank so high,
And in storehouse and grain loft so high....'"
"And you have seen such like, eh?" inquired Chelkash, looking at him with a smile and thinking to himself that this fine young chap was really very stupid.
"No, where could I see them? But I've heard of them...."