I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence, because I went into the hut with Ivan Ivanovich.
Our entrance caused some excitement. The preacher noticed me and stopped.
“Oh! We thank you,” he said, pushing the women aside. “Please. Won’t you have a little cup of tea? Here’s the samovar, even though it’s a dissenting village.”
“Did I disturb you?”
“What nonsense. Woman, bring the samovar! Quick!”
“Do you use that weed, too?” asked a young woman with a full bosom and bashful, coal-black eyes, who was standing in the front.
“If the gentleman will permit,—it will give me pleasure, ... and I’ll drink another....”
“If you please,” I said.
“Please give me a cigarette.”