“Why do you keep harping on one thing? I’ll yell and yell. You’d better not. If you do, I’ll eat you up. I’ll tell you a good story about a nun....”
“I see, you’ve been stealing something.”
“It’s wrong, Antosha, for you to slander a stranger. You gave me this one kalach yourself. I ate nothing—you believe God....”
“Go ahead and eat a stale one.... I haven’t eaten them up,” and Anton yawned so hard that he gave up all thoughts of further resistance.
“You shocked those blockheads well,” he added at the end of his strenuous yawn. “You’ve certainly showed them up.”
“And the fathers?”
“The fathers wanted to spit at you.... You promised to tell me a story. Why don’t you do it?”
“In a certain country, in a certain land,” began the stranger, “in a convent with a stone wall, lived a nun, brother Antoshenka.... And such a nun.... Oh, oh, oh!”
“Yes?...”