"Where? From the deep sea! Ha! ha! my dear, good boys. Oh! yes!"
Perfishka stamped his feet on the floor and sang:
"Oh little bones, dear little bones,
I weep for you in piteous tones.
For hardly are you grown at all
Before the shopman cracks you small."
"Sing, you jade, sing too," he screamed, turning to Matiza, "or let's sing the song you taught me, go ahead!"
He leant his back against the stove, where Matiza had already found support, and dug his elbow into her ribs, while his fingers wandered over the harmonica keys.
"Where is Mashutka?" asked Ilya suddenly, in a harsh voice.
"Yes, tell us," cried Jakov, and sprang from his chair. "Where is she? Tell us!"
But the drunken pair paid no heed to the question. Matiza leant her head to one side and sang:
"Ah! neighbour, your brandy is rousing and good."
And Perfishka struck in in a high tenor: