"And dost thou invite Timoféi also?"
"But why ... well, I invite him also."
Mísha reflected.--"Only look out ... for thou didst turn me out of
doors.... Don't think thou art going to get off with one bottle!"
"Do not worry ... there will be as much as you wish of everything."
Mísha flung aside his spade.... "Well, Timósha," he said, addressing his
old man-nurse, "let us honour the host.... Come along!"
"I obey," replied the old man.
And all three wended their way toward the house.
The speculator knew with whom he had to deal. Mísha made him promise as
a preliminary, it is true, that he would "allow all privileges" to the
peasants;--but an hour later that same Mísha, together with Timoféi,
both drunk, danced a gallopade through those rooms where the pious shade
of Andréi Nikoláitch seemed still to be hovering; and an hour later
still, Mísha, so sound asleep that he could not be waked (liquor was his
great weakness), was placed in a peasant-cart, together with his kazák
cap and his dagger, and sent off to the town, five-and-twenty versts
distant,--and there was found under a fence.... Well, and Timoféi, who
still kept his feet and merely hiccoughed, was "pitched out neck and
crop," as a matter of course. The master had made a failure of his
attempt. So they might as well let the servant pay the penalty!