I read my story "The Bull" to him. He laughed much, and praised my
knowledge of "the tricks of the language."
"But your treatment of words is not skilful; all your peasants speak
cleverly. In actual life what they say is silly and incoherent, and at
first you cannot make out what a peasant wants to say. That is done
deliberately; under the silliness of their words is always concealed
a desire to allow the other person to show what is in his mind. A
good peasant will never show at once what is in his own mind: it is
not profitable. He knows that people approach a stupid man frankly
and directly, and that's the very thing he wants. You stand revealed
before him and he at once sees all your weak points. He is suspicious;
he is afraid to tell his inmost thoughts even to his wife. But with
your peasants in every story everything is revealed: it's a universal
council of wisdom. And they all speak in aphorisms; that's not true to
life, either; aphorisms are not natural to the Russian language."
"What about sayings and proverbs?"
"That's a different thing. They are not of to-day's manufacture."
"But you yourself often speak in aphorisms."
"Never. There again you touch everything up; people as well as
nature--especially people. So did Lieskov, an affected, finicking
writer whom nobody reads now. Don't let anyone influence you, fear no
one, and then you'll be all right."