Barely had the britzka halted at the porch, which had an a^wning, when delighted voices were heard from inside—a man's and a woman's. The door squeaked on its counterweight, and a tall, scraggy figure inst:ntly loomed up by the carriage in a flurry ofarms and coat-skirts. It was the innkeeper Moses. Eldcrly, very pale-faced, with a handsome jet-black beard, hc wore a threadbare black frock-coat that dangled from his narrow shoulders as from a coat-hanger, flapping its wing- likc skirts whcnever he threw his hands up in joy or horror. Besides the coat he wore broad whitc trousers not tucked into his boots, and a velvet waistcoat with .t pattern of reddish Aowers like gigantic bugs.
Recognizing the new arrivals, Moses was first rooted to the spot by the onrush of emotion, then flung up his arms and uttcred a groan. His frock-coat flappcd its skirts, his back curvcd into bow, and his pale face twisted into a smile, as if seeing the carriage was no mere pleasure but cxcruciating ccstasy.
'Oh, goodness me, what a happy days this is for me!' he reedily intoncd, gasping, bustling and hindering the travellers from getting out of their carriage by his antics. 'Ah, what, oh what, to do next? Mr. Kuzmichov! Father Christopher! And what a pretty little gentle- mans that is sitting on the box, or may God punish me! Goodness me, but why am I standing here? Why am I not asking the guests into the parlour? Come in, I bcg you most humbly. Make yourselves at home. Give me all your things. Goodness gracious me!'
Ferreting in the carriage and helping the visitors out, Moses sud- denly tumcd back. 'Solomon, Solomon!' he bellowed in a frantic, strangled voice likc a drowning man calling for help.
In the house a woman's voice rcpeatcd the 'Solomon, Solomon!'
The door squeakcd on its counterwcight, and on the threshold appeared a young Jew—short, with a large, beaked nose and a bald patch surrounded by coarse, curly hair. All his clothes were too short —his exccedingly shabby cutaway jacket, his sleeves and the woollen trousers that made him seem :Is docked and skimpy as a plucked bird. This was Moses' brother Solomon. Silently, with no greeting but a rather weird smile, hc approached the carriage.
'Mr. Kuzmichov and Father Christopher are hcre.' Moscs' tone hinted at a fear of being disbelicvcd. 'Aye, aye, and such a wonder it is that thcsc good peoples are paying us a visit. Well, Solomon, take their things. This way, my honoured guests.'
A little later Kuzmichov, Father Christopher and Ycgorushka were sitting at an old oak table in a large, gloomy, empty room. The table was almost isolatcd, since there was no other furniturc in the room except for a broad sofa covered with tattcred oilcloth and three objects that not everyone would have ventured to call chairs. They were a pathetic simulacr^ of fiurniture, with oilcloth that had seen better days, and with backs canted unnaturally far back so that they closely resembled children's toboggans. It was hard to see what amenity the unkno-wn carpenter had envisaged when giving those chair backs that pitileu curve, and one might have thought that it was not his doing but the work of some itinerant Hercules who had bent the chairs to show his strength and had then offered to put them right, only to make them even worse. The room had a lugubrious air. The walls were grey, the ceiling and cornices were smoke-stained, and there were long cracks and yawnwning holes of mysterious provenance on the floor, as if that same strong man had kicked them in with his heel. The room looked as if it would still have been dark even with a dozen lamps hanging in it. Neither walls nor windows boasted anything resembling decoration. On one wall, though, a list of regulations under the Two-Headed Eagle hung in a grey wooden frame, and on another wall was some engraving in a similar frame. It was inscribed 'Man's Indifference'. But to what man was indifferent was not clear since the engraving had faded considerably in course of time and was profusely fly-blown. The room smelt musty and sour.
After bringing his guests in, Moses went on twisting, gesticulating, cringing and uttering ecstatic cries, believing all these antics essential to the display of supreme courtesy and affability.
'When did our wagons go by?' Kuzmichov asked.
'One lot pawed this morning, Mr. Kuzmichov, and the others rested here at dinner time and left in late afternoon.'
'Aha! Has Varlamov been b) or not?'
'No, he hasn't. But his bailiffGregory drove past yesterday morning, and he reckoned Varlamov must be over at the Molokan's farm.'
'Good. So we'll first overtake the wagons, and then go on to the Molokan's.'
'Mercy on us, Mr. Kuzmichov!' Moses threw up his arms in horror. 'Where can you go so late in the days? You enjoy a bite of supper and spend the night, and tomorrow morning, God willing, you can go and catch anyone you like.'
'There's no time. I'm sorry, Moses—some other day, not now. We'll stay a quarter of an hour and then be off. We can spend the night at the Molokan's.'
'A quarter of an hour!' shrieked Moses. 'Why, have you no fear of God? You will be making me to hide your hats and lock the door. At least have a bite to eat and some tea.'
'We've no time for tea, sugar and the rest of it,' said Kuzmichov.
Moses leant his head to one side, bent his knees, and held his open hands before him as if warding off blows. 'Mr. Kuzmichov, Father Christopher, be so kind as to take tea with me,' he implored with an excruciatingly sweet smile. 'Am I really such a bad mans that Mr. Kuzmichov cannot take tea with me?'
'All right then, we'll have some tea.' Father Christopher gave a sympathetic sigh. 'It won't take long.'
'Very weii then,' agreed Kuzmichov.
Moses, flustered, gave a joyful gasp, cringed as ifhe had just jumped out of cold water into the warm, and ran to the door. 'Rosa, Rosa! Bring the samovar,' he shouted in the frantic, strangled voice with which he had previously called Solomon.
A minute later the door opened and in came Solomon carrying a large tray. He put it on the table, gave a sarcastic sidelong look, grinned the same weird grin. Now, by the light of the lamp, it was po^ible to see that smile distinctly. It was highly complex, expressing a variety of feelings, but with one predominant—blatant contempt. He seemed to be brooding on something both fi^y and silly, to feel both repugnance and scorn, to be rejoicing at something or other, and to be waiting for a suitable moment to launch a wounding sneer and a peal of laughter. His long nose, thick lips and crafty, bulging eyes seemed tense with the urge to cachinate. Looking at his face, Kuz- michov smiled sardonically.
'Why didn't you come over to the fair at N. and do us yourJewish impressions?' he asked.
Two years previously, as Yegorushka well remembered, Solomon had had great success performing scenes of Jewish life in a booth at the N. fair. But the allusion made no impression on him. He went out without answering and came back with the samovar a little later.
Having finished serving, Solomon stepped to one side, folded his arms on his chest, thrust one leg out in front of him and fixed Father Christopher with a derisive stare. There was something dcfiant, arro- gant and contemptuous about his pose, yet it was also highly pathetic and comic because the more portentous it became the more vividly it threw into relief his short trousers, docked jacket, grotesque nose :and his whole plucked, bird-like fi.gure.
Moses brought a stool from another room and sat a little way from the table. 'Good appetite! Tea! Sugar!' He began to entertain his guests. 'Enjoy your meal. Such rare, oh, such rare guests, and I haven't seen Father Christopher these five years. And will no one tell me who this nice little gentlemans is?' He looked tenderly at Yegorushka.