“The string of rafts is moored in three places, isn’t it?
“In three, of course!”
“Cut the connections!”
“And they?”
“Keep quiet! Cut!”
“But—”
“Cut! Quietly, so they don’t notice it!”
The peasant took the axe in his hands, slowly walked up to the place where one link was well fastened to another link, struck a few times with his axe, and returned to Foma.
“I’m not responsible, your Honour,” he said.
“Don’t be afraid.”