"I am positive that he will come, but he won't come in a carriage. Let
us drink to your future health. If you kill any rich man go halves
with me ... then I shall go to America, brother. To those ... what do
you call them? Limpas? Pampas? I will go there, and I will work my
way until I become the President of the United States, and then I will
challenge the whole of Europe to war and I will blow it up! I will buy
the army ... in Europe that is--I will invite the French, the Germans,
the Turks, and so on, and I will kill them by the hands of their own
relatives... Just as Elia Marumets bought a Tartar with a Tartar.
With money it would be possible even for Elia to destroy the whole of
Europe and to take Judas Petunikoff for his valet. He would go...
Give him a hundred roubles a month and he would go! But he would be a
bad valet, because he would soon begin to steal ..."
"Now, besides that, the thin woman is better than the stout one,
because she costs one less," said the Deacon, convincingly. "My first
Deaconess used to buy twelve arshins for her clothes, but the second
one only ten... And so on even in the matter of provisions and food."
Paltara Taras smiled guiltily. Turning his head towards the Deacon and
looking straight at him, he said, with conviction:
"I had a wife once, too."
"Oh! That happens to everyone," remarked Kuvalda; "but go on with your
lies."
"She was thin, but she ate a lot, and even died from over-eating."
"You poisoned her, you hunchback!" said Abyedok, confidently.
"No, by God! It was from eating sturgeon," said Paltara Taras.
"But I say that you poisoned her!" declared Abyedok, decisively. It
often happened, that having said something absolutely impossible and
without proof, he kept on repeating it, beginning in a childish,
capricious tone, and gradually raising his voice to a mad shriek.
The Deacon stood up for his friend. "No; he did not poison her. He had
no reason to do so."
"But I say that he poisoned her!" swore Abyedok.
"Silence!" shouted the Captain, threateningly, becoming still angrier.
He looked at his friends with his blinking eyes, and not discovering
anything to further provoke his rage in their half-tipsy faces, he
lowered his head, sat still for a little while, and then turned over on
his back on the ground. Meteor was biting cucumbers. He took a
cucumber in his hand without looking at it, put nearly half of it into
his mouth, and bit it with his yellow teeth, so that the juice spurted
out in all directions and ran over his cheeks. He did not seem to want
to eat, but this process pleased him. Martyanoff sat motionless on the
ground, like a statue, and looked in a dull manner at the half-vedro
bottle, already getting empty. Abyedok lay on his belly and coughed,
shaking all over his small body. The rest of the dark, silent figures
sat and lay around in all sorts of positions, and their tatters made
them look like untidy animals, created by some strange, uncouth deity
to make a mockery of man.
"There once lived a lady in Suzdale,
A strange lady,
She fell into hysterics,
Most unpleasantly!"
sang the Deacon in low tones embracing Aleksei Maksimovitch, who was
smiling kindly into his face.
Paltara Taras giggled voluptuously.
The night was approaching. High up in the sky the stars were shining
... and on the mountain and in the town the lights of the lamps were
appearing. The whistles of the steamers were heard all over the river,
and the doors of Vaviloff's eating-house opened noisily. Two dark
figures entered the courtyard, and one of them asked in a hoarse voice:
"Are you drinking?" And the other said in a jealous aside:
"Just see what devils they are!"
Then a hand stretched over the Deacon's head and took away the bottle,
and the characteristic sound of vodki being poured into a glass was
heard. Then they all protested loudly.
"Oh this is sad!" shouted the Deacon. "Krivoi, let us remember the
ancients! Let us sing 'On the Banks of the Babylonian Rivers.'"
"But can he?" asked Simtsoff.
"He? He was a chorister in the Bishop's choir. Now then, Krivoi! ...
"On the r-i-v-e-r-s--" The Deacon's voice was loud and hoarse and
cracked, but his friend sang in a shrill falsetto.
The dirty building loomed large in the darkness and seemed to be coming
nearer, threatening the singers, who were arousing its dull echoes.
The heavy, pompous clouds were floating in the sky over their heads.
One of the "creatures that once were men" was snoring; the rest, not
yet so drunk, ate and drank quietly or spoke to each other at long
intervals. It was unusual for them to be in such low spirits
during such a feast, with so much vodki. Somehow the drink tonight did
not seem to have its usual exhilarating effect.
"Stop howling, you dogs!" ... said the Captain to the singers, raising
his head from the ground to listen. "Some one is passing ... in a
droshky...."
A droshky at such a time in the main street could not but attract
general attention. Who would risk crossing the ditches between it and
the town, and why? They all raised their heads and listened. In the
silence of the night the wheels were distinctly heard. They came
gradually nearer. A voice was heard asking roughly:
"Well, where then?"