The shopman raised his eyebrows, came from behind the counter, and poured a kopeck-worth of sunflower seeds into Egorooshka's pocket—the scales, by the way, were being used by an empty pot of pomade. Egorooshka had no wish to leave. He looked for a long time at the boxes with the ginger- bread, thought a bit, and asked as he pointed to some small gingers, which owing to the great lapse of time were thick with mildew:
"How much are those ginger-breads?"
"Two a kopeck."
Egorooshka fetched out of his pocket the ginger-bread given him by the Jewess, and asked:
"And these kind of ginger-breads, how much?"
The shopman took the ginger-bread in his hand, looked at it on every side, and raised an eyebrow.
"These?" he asked.
Then he raised the other eyebrow, thought a moment, and answered:
"Two for three kopecks."
There was a silence.
"Who are you?" asked the shopman, pouring himself out some tea from a red copper teapot.
"The nephew of Ivan Ivanitch."
"There are several Ivan Ivanitches," sighed the shopman; he looked past Egorooshka's head through the door, was silent a moment, then asked: "Don't you want any tea?"
"Please. . . ." Egorooshka assented somewhat unwill- ingly, although he felt a great longing for his morning tea.
The shopman poured him out a glass, and handed it him, together with a gnawed bit of sugar. Egorooshka sat on the folding-stool, and began to drink. He was about to inquire how much a pound of sugared almonds cost when a buyer entered, so the shopman, setting his glass on one side, attended to other business. He led the buyer into the half of the shop which ^^t of tar, and ^rake to ^m a long ti^ about s.ome afair or buyer was «^^tlv a v^1 ^^^rate ^^
and a ^^^mg blade, foc he ^rnk his ^bead perpetuaUv in the ^sative ^^ ^^ went the ^mr. ^te as-
sured him of some^^^, and oats iato a large
sack.
"Such oats!" ruefuUv said the buyer. are only half
oats, they'd ^ke a chic^ra laugh. . . . Oh! weU, I^ go to Bondarenka! ''
"-nen EgorOO"..^^. retu^^ to the river-side he saw the smoke of a ^rall w^rf-pile. ^te were cooking their
Stepte ^^ ^^^ag in ^^ midst oi ^^Ae, and was s^^rng in a pot with a j^ged ^^ra. A few steps away, ^^ with eyes red^^^ by ^^ke. were sitting
d^^ng the In iront oi lay the casting-net covered tn mud ar:d wherein ^^ lay ^ad fuh and ^^ cray-
5::h crawled.
E^^^, woo had not long since ret^^^ from the church, siaing Panteli his ^rads, and, in a ^^celv
audible hoarse voice, was ĥumming: "To Thee we sing." Dimov was wandering ^^rng the oor-.es.
Ha,ing ^^hed clraning tile fuh. ^^hua and \'a.ssia gath- ered up the ^^ the live cray-fi5h iaw the bucket, ri^^ them, then poured them all inw the boiliag water.
' Did you put in any iat?'' Stepka asked, re^OTing the vtith his ^^ra.
'"■What ioc? Fish are fuU of it,"
Beiore remo,ing the pot fr^ the fire. St^^. strewed in three handfuls of milet-^^ ^^ a ^maful of salt; finally be ^^ it, s^cked his lips, licked the ^ron. and croaked in a very self-sa^^ed way—that ^^nt the gruel was ready. except Panteli sat ro^^ the pot, and set to ..ork witn
their
"Oh: Vou! Give the little sir a ^^n," r^^Aerl
Panteli. be not want to eat to?''
"O^ is r.10ujik's f^ri . . ." s^^
"And very good too, if he is hungry."
They gave Egorooshka a spoon. He ate his food without sitting down, standing by the pot and looking down into it as into a deep pit. The gruel smelt of raw fish, and in fact there were fishes' scales mixed with the millet. It was quite impossible to catch the cray-fish with the spoon, so the eaters had to take them out of the pot with their hands. Vassia, in particular, made very little ceremony about it—he even dipped his sieeves as well as his hands into the gruel. All the same, the gruel tasted excellent, and it reminded Egorooshka of the cray-fish soup which his mamma made at home on fast- days. Panteli sat apart from them, and munched bread.
"Dad, why aren't you eating with us?" Emilian asked him.
"I don't eat cray-fish. . . . The devil take them I" said the old man, turning away with disgust.
During the meal there was general conversation. From this conversation, Egorooshka gathered that all his new ac- quaintances, regardless of their differences in age and char- acter, were alike in one particular: they all of them had had a wonderful past, and the present was very bad. They all spoke of their past with ecstasy and treated the present almost with contempt. A Russian loves to reminisce but dislikes the act of living. Egorooshka did not yet know this, so before the gruel was all eaten, he profoundly believed that around the cauldron sat people who had been insulted and wronged by fate. Panteli told of days past when there were no railroads, when he walked with his waggons to :\Ioscow and to Nijni, when he worked such a lot he did not know where to put all his money. And what merchants there were in those days, what fish, how cheap everything was! Nowadays their routes were shorter, merchants were meaner, the people poorer, bread dearer, everything had diminished and dwindled to a mini- mum. Emilian told how formerly he had worked in the mill in Lougansk, and sung in the choir. He had had a remarkable voice, and could read music quite well, now he had relapsed into being a peasant, and living on the charitv of others who sent him their horses and so took half his earnings. V^^ had worked in a match-factory, Kiruha had been coachman with some very good ^^le, and been reckoned as the best driver of a troika in the neighbourhood. Dimov ^^ the son of a well-to-do moujik, lived in comfort and idleness, and had not a care. He had hardlv attained his twentieth year when his stem, cruel father, wishing to instruct him in busi- ^^ and fearing lest he should get spoiled at home, sent him off as driver, just like any landless ^^^rnt or worker. Stepka alone remained silent, but by his beardless face one could tell that he had sen much better days than the present ones.
Dimov, as he thought of his father. frowned and ceased to eat. He looked at his companions out of the corner of his eye, and his glance rested on Egorooshka.
•'•Vou heathen, take off your hatl" he said rudely. "Does anyone eat in a hat? Not even a baim!"
Egorooshka took off his hat without saying a word, but the gruel had lost its flavour, nor did he hear that Panteli and Vassia were taking his part. His bosom heaved with anger against that impudent fellow, and he made up his mind that come what might he would ha,e his revenge.
After their dinner they all wandered off to the waggons, and stretched themseh'es in the shade.
''Dad. are we ^n going on?" Egorooshka asked Panteli.
"When ^^ we shall go on. . . . We shan't go now, it's too hot. ... Oh! Lord, Thy will. . . . Holy Virgin. Lie down, little sir! "
Soon the sound of snoring was heard from beneath the was^ons. Egorooshka would ha\'e liked to have gone back to tbe village. but he thought it over, yawned, and laid himself near the old man.
VI
Al day the waggons remained by the river, and only left ''heir place when the sun went down.
Once more Egorooshka lay on the bale of wool while the waggon softly creaked and rocked; below walked Panteli, stamping his feet, slapping his thighs, and mumbling; and like on the previous day the air hummed with the steppe music.
Egorooshka Jay on his back with his hands behind his head, looking up at the sky. He saw it on fire with the redness of dusk, and then he saw the light go out; the guardian angels drew their golden wings over the horizon and disposed them- selves for their night's rest; the day had been successful, the soft blissful night was beginning, and they might sit quietly at home in heaven. . . . Egorooshka saw the sky grow dim, the mist descending over the ground, and the stars light up one after the other.