"I know, I know, don't go talking away. . ."
"Lord, my God!" the shoemaker continued warmly, "when is the end? when, O Lord! A poor wretch I am, a poor wretch whose sufferings are endless! What a life, what a life mine's been come to think of it! In my young days, I was beaten by a German I was 'prentice to; in the prime of life beaten by my own countrymen, and last of all, in ripe years, see what I have been brought to. . ."
"Ugh, you flabby soul!" said Gavrila Andreitch. "Why do you make so many words about it?"
"Why, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch? It's not a beating I'm afraid of, Gavrila Andreitch. A gentleman may chastise me in private, but give me a civil word before folks, and I'm a man still; but see now, whom I've to do with . . ."
"Come, get along," Gavrila interposed impatiently. Kapiton turned away and staggered off.
"But, if it were not for him," the steward shouted after him, "you would consent for your part?"
"I signify my acquiescence," retorted Kapiton as he disappeared.
His fine language did not desert him, even in the most trying positions.
The steward walked several times up and down the room.
"Well, call Tatiana now," he said at last.