"What kind of a chest is that?" asked Ilya.
"That? That's a harmonium. Father bought it for me for four roubles. 'Learn to play it,' he said, 'then I'll buy you a good one at three hundred roubles,' he said, 'and we'll put it in the restaurant, and you can play to the guests and be some use, anyhow.' It was smart of him; they have organs in all the taverns now except ours, and I like playing."
"He's a mean wretch!" cried Lunev.
"Not at all! Why? Let him alone. It's quite true, I'm no use to him."
Ilya looked darkly at his friend, and said bitterly:
"Here's a good idea for him! Tell him when you die to make a show of you in the bar, and charge to see it, five kopecks a head. Then you'll be worth something to him."
Jakov laughed in an embarrassed way, and began to cough again, holding his hand first against his chest, then against his throat.
And Perfishka went on cheerfully:
"He kept the fast days as 'tis fit,
He did not eat or drink a bit,
His empty stomach felt the pain,
But oh! his soul was clean again!"
"So, ho—holiness!" And his harmonica drowned the words with a confused medley of sounds.