“‘Ech!’ I think to myself, ‘Emelian! You have lost your poor wits through the cursed drink!’
“‘And again,’ Emelian says, ‘a baron lost a bill on the Gorokhova Street—or was it on the Sadova? A muzhik saw him drop it, and says, ‘My luck,’ but here another one interfered and says, ‘No, it is my luck!’ I saw it first....’”
“Well, Emelian?”
“‘And the two muzhiks started a fight, Astafi Ivanich, and the upshot was that a policeman came, picked up the money, handed it back to the baron, and threatened to put the muzhiks under lock for raising a disturbance.’
“‘But what of that? What is there wonderful or edifying in that, Emelian?’
“‘Well, nothing, but the people laughed, Astafi Ivanich.’
“‘E-ch, Emelian! What have the people to do with it?’ I said. ‘You have sold your immortal soul for a copper. But do you know what I will tell you, Emelian?’
“‘What, Astafi Ivanich?’
“‘You’d better take up some work, really you should. I am telling you for the hundredth time that you should have pity on yourself!’
“‘But what shall I do, Astafi Ivanich? I do not know where to begin and no one would employ me, Astafi Ivanich.’