"Very well," assented Mishka in a low voice.
"You will leave them? Yes?"
"I'll leave them."
"That's a sensible fellow. You're quite a child. And look at you—a great beard, almost to your waist! Are you married?"
"A widower. My wife, she died."
"And why do you drink? You are a drunkard, aren't you?"
"A drunkard, ma'am. I drink."
"Why?"
"Why do I drink? Why, from foolishness. Being a fool, I drink. If a man had brains, would he go and ruin himself of his own accord?" said Mishka in a desolate tone.
"You are quite right. Then cultivate wisdom and get better. Go to church. Hear God's Word. In It is all wisdom."