“You like to eat, but you won’t chew, I tell you!” the soldier repeated sternly. “You want me to tell you whether the miller is a good man or not. Every man’s good in my opinion. I’ve eaten bread from many a stove, friend. I wouldn’t even cough where you would die of suffocation. Do you think you’ve struck a fool in me?”
“Splendid! Splendid! Give it to him hard!” the miller said to himself, dancing with joy. “My name isn’t Philip the miller if the devil doesn’t look more foolish than a sheep before half an hour is over! I read so fast in church that no one can understand me, but he talks quietly, and yet just listen to what he is saying!”
And in fact the poor devil was scratching his head so hard that he was nearly knocking his hat off.
“Hold on, soldier!” he exclaimed. “You and I seem to run on and on and never get anywhere. We’re all tangled up.”
“I don’t know about you, but there’s no tangle I can’t get out of.”
“But look here; I asked you whether the miller was a good man or not, and see where you’ve led me!”
“Then let me ask you a question: is water good or not?”
“Water? What’s the matter with water?”
“But if there was kvass[J] about you would turn up your nose at water, wouldn’t you? Water would seem tasteless, then, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, perhaps it would.”