“But you forget, Ivan Nikiforovitch, that I am to give you the sow too.”
“What! two sacks of oats and a sow for a gun?”
“Why, is it too little?”
“For a gun?”
“Of course, for a gun.”
“Two sacks for a gun?”
“Two sacks, not empty, but filled with oats; and you’ve forgotten the sow.”
“Kiss your sow; and if you don’t like that, then go to the Evil One!”
“Oh, get angry now, do! See here; they’ll stick your tongue full of red-hot needles in the other world for such godless words. After a conversation with you, one has to wash one’s face and hands and fumigate one’s self.”
“Excuse me, Ivan Ivanovitch; my gun is a choice thing, a most curious thing; and besides, it is a very agreeable decoration in a room.”