“What is it?”
“Sidor is here from Goloplek.”
“Oh! ask him in. Wait a bit, wait a bit.—First go and look whether the strange gentleman’s still asleep, or whether he has waked up.”
The clerk on duty came cautiously into my room. I laid my head on my game-bag, which served me as a pillow, and closed my eyes.
“He’s asleep,” whispered the clerk on duty, returning to the counting-house.
The fat man muttered something.
“Well, send Sidor in,” he said at last.
I got up again.
A peasant of about thirty, of huge stature, came in—a red-cheeked, vigorous-looking fellow, with brown hair, and a short curly beard. He crossed himself, praying to the holy image, bowed to the head clerk, held his hat before him in both hands, and stood erect.
“Good day, Sidor,” said the fat man, tapping with the reckoning beads.