You are on page 1of 13

Sportsman's Sketches, by Ivan Turgenev

X THE AGENT
Twelve miles from my place lives an acquaintance of mine, a landowner and a retired officer in the Guards — Arkady Pavlitch Pyenotchkin. He has a great deal of game on his estate, a house built after the design of a French architect, and servants dressed after the English fashion; he gives capital dinners, and a cordial reception to visitors, and, with all that, one goes to see him reluctantly. He is a sensible and practical man, has received the excellent education now usual, has been in the service, mixed in the highest society, and is now devoting himself to his estate with great success. Arkady Pavlitch is, to judge by his own words, severe but just; he looks after the good of the peasants under his control and punishes them — for their good. ‘One has to treat them like children,’ he says on such occasions; ‘their ignorance, mon cher; il faut prendre cela en considération .’ When this so-called painful necessity arises, he eschews all sharp or violent gestures, and prefers not to raise his voice, but with a straight blow in the culprit’s face, says calmly, ‘I believe I asked you to do something, my friend?’ or ‘What is the matter, my boy? what are you thinking about?’ while he sets his teeth a little, and the corners of his mouth are drawn. He is not tall, but has an elegant figure, and is very good-looking; his hands and nails are kept perfectly exquisite; his rosy cheeks and lips are simply the picture of health. He has a ringing, lighthearted laugh, and there is sometimes a very genial twinkle in his clear brown eyes. He dresses in excellent taste; he orders French books, prints, and papers, though he’s no great lover of reading himself: he has hardly as much as waded through the Wandering Jew . He plays cards in masterly style. Altogether, Arkady Pavlitch is reckoned one of the most cultivated gentlemen and most eligible matches in our province; the ladies are perfectly wild over him, and especially admire his manners. He is wonderfully well conducted, wary as a cat, and has never from his cradle been mixed up in any scandal, though he is fond of making his power felt, intimidating or snubbing a nervous man, when he gets a chance. He has a positive distaste for doubtful society — he is afraid of compromising himself; in his lighter moments, however, he will avow himself a follower of Epicurus, though as a rule he speaks slightingly of philosophy, calling it the foggy

and was altogether in an excellent humour. Arkady Pavlitch was arrayed in loose silk trousers. In spite of my aversion for Arkady Pavlitch. something of a hang-dog look. but with feeling. One is possessed by a strange sort of uneasiness in his house. a red fez with a blue tassel. at the card-table he is given to humming through his teeth. For all that. with cringing servility. or at times. He is fond of music too. The winters he spends in Petersburg. He drank his tea. Arkady Pavlitch speaks in a soft. and would gladly run the risk of having one’s whole leg pulled off with the boot. Two footmen in clean white gloves swiftly and silently anticipated our faintest desires. Arkady Pavlitch’s house-serfs have. and yellow Chinese slippers without heels. the very grooms feel his influence. and conducted me into his study. and if it were not for the grouse and the partridges. . The next day I ordered my carriage to be ready early in the morning. he brings out each word through his handsome perfumed moustaches. one would be unutterably overjoyed. lean figure could suddenly be replaced by the amazingly broad cheeks and incredibly thick nose of a stalwart young labourer fresh from the plough. I should probably have dropped his acquaintance altogether.food fit for German brains. but he would not let me start without a regular breakfast in the English style. drawing off one’s boots. with emphasis and. am never over-eager to visit him. and begins. We sat on a Persian divan.. and every evening when a befrizzed valet makes his appearance in a blue livery with heraldic buttons. but he is always apt to sing everything a little sharp. propped himself up with cushions. with satisfaction. laughed. but among us Russians there’s no knowing what is sullenness and what is sleepiness. I once happened to pass a night in his house. His house is kept in extraordinarily good order. and every day not only rub the harness and brush their coats. scrutinised his finger-nails. the very comfort is distasteful to one. boiled eggs. butter. he knows by heart some snatches from Lucia and Somnambula . as it were. but even wash their faces. for one. one feels that if his pale. cheese. rot. and suddenly frowned. a black velvet smoking jacket. such as: Mais c’est impayable! Mais comment donc ? and so so. who has yet had time in his ten months of service to tear his new nankin coat open at every seam. Arkady Pavlitch poured himself out a glass of red wine.. With our tea they served us cutlets.. honey. lifted it to his lips. agreeable voice. he uses a good many French expressions too. I. simply. it is true. After making a hearty breakfast with obvious satisfaction. and so on.

Ryabovo’s only four miles from my village Shipilovka. you there! Have the carriage brought out.. Capital! capital!’ he added without waiting for my answer. ‘You can go.’ ‘Nothing but sport! Oh.’ answered the fat man.. You have never been in Shipilovka? I should be ashamed to suggest your putting up for the night in my agent’s cottage. and turned white.’ said Arkady Pavlitch in an undertone. and look sharp. and eyes positively lost in fat. and with complete composure.’ ‘Ryabovo? By Jove! now in that case I will come with you. sir. and uttered not a word. Arkady Pavlitch dropped his head and looked up at him thoughtfully from under his eyelids. at Ryabovo. and he rang the bell. I know. twisted the napkin.‘Why was not the wine warmed?’ he asked rather sharply of one of the footmen. mon cher ‘. came into the room. make the necessary arrangements. after a short silence. he observed. you sportsmen! And where are you going to shoot just now?’ ‘Thirty-five miles from here. ‘Voilà. We will go. ‘But where are you off to? Stop. and you’ll stay the night with me. but you’re not particular. patting my knee amicably.’ ‘No. swarthy. raising his eyebrows. ‘About Fyodor . We’ll have supper together — we’ll take the cook with us.’ he added. my friend?’ Arkady Pavlitch resumed tranquilly. you must stay a little. ‘Didn’t I ask you a question. and again he stared at the footman.’ Arkady Pavlitch remarked gaily. and it’s a long while since I’ve been over to Shipilovka. you can spend the day shooting in Ryabovo and come on in the evening to me. ‘Pardon. ‘Yes. ... with a low forehead. The footman stood stock-still in confusion. ‘it’s time I was off. and he went out. never taking his eyes off the man. A stout. Well. Hey.. we will go!’ And Arkady Pavlitch hummed some French song. black-haired man.. mon cher. ‘C’est arrangé . this is a piece of luck. I’ve never been able to get the time.. les désagréments de la campagne .. The luckless footman fidgeted in his place.’ I answered. and at Ryabovo you’d have slept in some hayloft.

It’s the custom of the place — what was I to do? They pay their rent very punctually. I dare say. I submitted to my fate. On receiving a reassuring reply to this query.’ he pursued. he was on horseback. c’est leur affaire . red-haired peasant of seven feet. and dressing. a man of real administrative power! You shall see. the trap with the cook in it broke down. swaying from side to side. as he expressed it. his home-made professor of the culinary art. However. to be comfortable when he had the chance. and apparently had had time to arrange things and prepare those whom it concerned. ‘And where’s Sofron?’ Arkady Pavlitch asked him. My agent there’s a fine fellow. With all this. but there’s so little land. The journey was. however. pillows.‘You don’t know. Arkady Pavlitch addressed some brief but powerful remarks to the coachman. The cook had arrived a few minutes before us. Instead of nine o’clock in the morning.cases of all sorts. raging inwardly.. une forte tête . I was in the same carriage as Arkady Pavlitch. that a careful and self-denying German would have found enough to last him for a year. and even fell to expressing his liberal views on politics. and so. it happened so somehow. performed in safety. and wearing a new overcoat. The bailiff first jumped nimbly off his horse. and towards the end of the journey I was a prey to deadly boredom. Every time we went down a steep hill. and he sent at once to inquire whether his hands were injured. At last we did arrive — not at Ryabovo. bareheaded. we were rather a long time on the road.wheel. I really wonder how they manage to make both ends meet.. have put them back to payment in labour. especially as in a few hours my companion ran perfectly dry of subjects of conversation. for on our very entrance within the village boundaries we were met by the village bailiff (the agent’s son). Arkady Pavlitch was alarmed in earnest at the sight of the fall of Karem. and he took with him such a supply of linen. his mind was set at rest immediately. in crossing a latelyrepaired bridge. from which I was able to deduce that my worthy friend was a thorough coward. Sportsmen will sympathise with my impatience.. bowed to his master till . I should. we started at two in the afternoon. Arkady Pavlitch liked. perfumes. though. dainties. except that. I could have got no shooting now that day in any case. not buttoned up. ‘I’ve some peasants there who pay rent. I’ll own. Really. but at Shipilovka. and he got squeezed in the stomach against the hind. how luckily things have turned out!’ There was no help for it. wearing apparel. a stalwart.

in a dark corner. rolled over with the utmost haste into the dark outer rooms. with their heads down and legs in the air. The agent’s wife met us with low curtseys. gave it. Arkady Pavlitch sent them away. then suddenly took fright and scuttled off too. Even the hens sped in a hurried scuttle to the turning. and came up to kiss the master’s hand. an old lame man with a beard that began just under his eyes pulled a horse away from the well before it had drunk. We stopped at the gates. The bailiff deferentially led his horse to one side. but at the sight of our carriage and the bailiff they were suddenly silent. Arkady Pavlitch nodded to them graciously. and fell to bowing low. and even prepared for a crow. Peasant women in check petticoats flung splinters of wood at indiscreet or over-zealous dogs. In the outer room. and mounted the steps.he was bent double. come along after us. greasy pots. empty tubs. The coachmen . The agent’s cottage stood apart from the rest in the middle of a thick green patch of hemp. Arkady Pavlitch. from which they did not reappear again. In the cold hut. flung themselves on their bellies on the high door-sills. clambered on to it. one bold cock with a black throat like a satin waistcoat and a red tail. We drove through the village. A few peasants in empty carts happened to meet us. a blow on the side. and said: ‘Good health to you. his cap in his hand. A flutter of excitement had obviously spread through the hamlet. and swinging their legs in the air. they were driving from the threshing-floor and singing songs. looking affably about him. stood his ground in the road. as it is called — to the right of the outer room — two other women were still busily at work. sir!’ then raised his head. but they had sent after him. rumpled up to his very comb. and sweeping out the dirt with bathbrooms. a cradle with a heap of dish-clouts and a baby covered with spots. but did not venture to approach his hand. and announced that Sofron had gone to Perov. and got out of the carriage. they were carrying out all the rubbish. shook himself. and installed himself on a bench under the holy pictures. for some obscure reason. sheepskins stiff as boards. ‘Well. and followed the carriage at a trot. Mr.’ said Arkady Pavlitch. flung off his cloak with a picturesque motion. Pyenotchkin got up. Arkady Pavlitch let her kiss it to her heart’s content. Boys in long smocks ran with a howl to the huts. and she too curtsied. stood the bailiff’s wife. swaying backwards and forwards. took off their winter caps (it was summer-time) and got up as though waiting for orders.

‘at last you have graciously deigned to come to us . and thick-set. ‘Ah.. you. and other agricultural subjects. how are things going with you?’ he asked in a friendly voice. bags. as though carried away by a rush of feeling (tipsiness had its share in it too). ‘Well. Suddenly a cart rumbled up and stopped at the steps. Arkady Pavlitch gratified his desire. This man. sometimes a man may have had a thin. trying each time to subdue the noise of their heavy boots. and other conveniences. as though he were buttoning up his coat with benumbed fingers. little blue eyes. there has never yet been an instance of a man who has grown rich and prosperous without a big. our father. of real administrative power. begged once more for his hand. . by the way. it is all round his face like a halo — one wonders where the hair has come from! The agent must have been making merry at Perov: his face was unmistakably flushed. Meantime Arkady Pavlitch began questioning the bailiff about the crops. graciously deign to lighten our poor village with your presence.’ At this point Sofron paused. to make us happy till the day of our death? Thank the Lord for thee. was short. now that you. but spoke with a sort of heavy awkwardness.began bringing in the trunks. our benefactor. his lips protruded in anticipation. your honour’s hand. grey. ‘Ah. wedge-shape beard all his life. The bailiff gave satisfactory answers. our gracious benefactor!’ he began in a sing-song voice. He stood at the door and kept looking round on the watch to make way for the nimble footman. your hand. and there was a smell of spirits about him. brother Sofron. the agent came in. gazed upon his master. bushy beard.’ he added. Behind his powerful shoulders I managed to get a glimpse of the agent’s wife in the outer room surreptitiously belabouring some other peasant woman. the sowing. with a red nose. Arkady Pavlitch! thank the Lord for thee! All is right by your gracious favour. ‘how should they go ill? how should things go ill. our father. but then he begins to get one all at once. We may observe. and. broad-shouldered. as Arkady Pavlitch said. our father!’ cried Sofron. and whined more than before. and a beard of the shape of a fan. and with a face of such deep feeling that it seemed every minute as if he would burst into tears.. that ever since Russia has existed.

song as before..’ ‘Well. we acted in everything according to your orders. old chap. but for you .. our father. . ‘Ah. your honour . obviously trying to imitate the peasant speech. of course. graciously please you. you .. ‘To be sure. settled the division of land.. and . then.’ Meanwhile supper was served. There’s too little land.’ Arkady Pavlitch remarked with dignity. your honour. the mediator.‘Ah..’ ‘But. now. they were disagreeable about it. for you. why. and they wanted that .. Arkady Pavlitch. certainly... Pardon an old fool like me. Yegor Dmitritch. our gracious protector! oh. There. with a wink to me. Arkady Pavlitch began to eat. oh. as you graciously ordered. to be sure. God bless me! I’m a regular fool with delight.. benefactor . The Hlinovsky folks made themselves disagreeable about it at first . you are our father.. smiled. your honour.. ‘We’ve settled the land shares.. all right — for whom? For peasants like us it’s all right.’ ‘Yegor reported to me. The old man packed his son off. bless me! I’m gone clean crazy... we pray day and night to God Almighty. and God knows what they didn’t want! but they’re a set of fools. Where are you to put up for the night? You see here it’s dirty. our father!. God bless me! I look and can’t believe my eyes! Ah. saying he smelt too strong. nonsense!’ Arkady Pavlitch responded. you. in the same sing. our benefactor!’ he began. I’m off my head. ‘what are you going to do? You’ll break my heart. and asked: ‘N’est-ce pas que c’est touchant? ’ ‘But. Sofron. all by your gracious favour. But we. and nothing did we do unbeknown to Yegor Dmitritch. your honour didn’t graciously let me know of your visit..’ ‘Nonsense. your honour!— an ignorant lot. our father. our father. ‘Well.. hey?’ enquired Mr.... your honour. your honour. our father.. our father!’ Arkady Pavlitch glanced at me. and satisfied Nikolai Nikolaitch. now I suppose you ‘re satisfied.’ Sofron had only been waiting for this.. Pyenotchkin.. so we did. They wanted this . gave an earnest of our gratitude. ‘it’s all right here. your honour. nasty..’ resumed the indefatigable agent. with a smile. ‘Indeed. your honour...’ Pyenotchkin cut him short... Day before yesterday the list was made out.

to tell the truth. ‘Quel gaillard .” says I. tied round the waist with a red handkerchief. The next morning we got up rather early. bent down. we lay down. “Mum’s the word. and at that point made the observation that since Sofron had had the management of the place. “You see how it was. He wore a blue loose coat. Arkady Pavlitch ordered the table to be cleared. your honour. I know you’re eager in my service.. it was found near the boundary.” says I. and arranged pillows. that’ll do. the Shipilovka peasants had never been one farthing in arrears. Sofron.. He talked much less than on the previous evening. Arkady Pavlitch. but Arkady Pavlitch was anxious to show me his estate. and begged me to remain. The watchman struck his board. .. we fell asleep. But I explained how it was to the police officer in case of the worst. The valet spread out sheets for us. with his arms apart. while it was still possible. before falling asleep.. began crying somewhere in the cottage .‘There.. But. it seems like the doing of the evil one. the threshing’s none too good.) ‘There was a dead body found on our land.. I was not averse myself to seeing more of the first-rate qualities of that man of administrative power — Sofron — in their practical working. I ordered them to drag it on to the neighbour’s strip of land at once. on our side of it. your honour? We shifted the burden on to other shoulders.. a baby. The agent made his appearance. what do you say. Well. and set a watch there. and sent word round to our folks.. kept an alert. your honour. let me tell you about a little matter that came to pass. you see a dead body’s a matter of two hundred roubles. talked a little more about the first-rate qualities of the Russian peasant. luckily. Well. and how goes the threshing?’ Sofron sighed. Sofron retired after receiving his instructions for the next day.. ‘Well. Pyenotchkin.’ ‘How was that?’ ‘I can’t think myself. eh!’ Meantime it was quite dark out of doors. and said several times to me. But there. that’ll do. Arkady Pavlitch. and screwed up one eye. Pyenotchkin laughed heartily at his agent’s cunning.. as sure as ninepence.’ Mr. and of course I had to treat him and slip some notes into his hand. I was getting ready to start for Ryabovo.’ (Here he came closer to Mr. and hay to be brought in. who apparently had not yet had time to be imbued with a sentiment of dutiful self-abnegation. indicating him with a nod. our father..

he merely stroked his beard. on the windmill he had constructed a weathercock of the shape of a bear with his jaws open and a red tongue sticking out. by every external sign a very slow-witted fellow. walked after us also. but did not now address Arkady Pavlitch as his father. We set off with him to the threshing-floor. only the dejected faces of the peasants rather puzzled me. a retired soldier.intent eye on his master’s face.’ He began giving the agent advice how to plant his potatoes. the cattle-shed. and on it inscribed in white letters: ‘Construt in the village Shipilovky 1 thousand eight Hunderd farthieth year. the windmill. and gave connected and sensible answers. This cattle-shed. Fedosyitch.’ In this ‘enclosure’ we found thick undergrowth and abundance of wild game. and we were joined farther on by the village constable. however. of how a jocose landowner had given his forester a good lesson by pulling out nearly half his beard.’ observed Mr. for which Arkady Pavlitch applauded Sofron and clapped him on the shoulder. the barn. or his benefactor. between the stacks he had made little paths to the threshing-floor and strewn them with fine sand. neither Sofron nor . everything was. Sofron had had an eye to the ornamental as well as the useful. Pyenotchkin. he looked as though he had had some startling shock of astonishment a very long while ago. We took a look at the threshing-floor. In other matters. however. in excellent order. and an extraordinary expression of face. adding.’ To this Sofron made no reply. and told me on that subject an amusing — in his words — anecdote. Arkady Pavlitch clung to the Russian ideas. that it would be a good thing to buy more.’ Arkady Pavlitch was quite touched. ‘Well. Saddle-horses were led out to us at once. or. how to prepare cattle-food. that labour-dues came more profitable to the owner —‘but.’ said Arkady Pavlitch. we went off to the copse. and fell to expatiating in French to me upon the advantages of the system of rent-payment. as a fact. buy some then. with immense moustaches. sometimes replied. In regard to forestry. Sofron’s son. the ‘enclosure. the corn-stacks. the seven-foot bailiff. and so on. ‘And now it would be as well to ride down to the copse. Sofron heard his master’s remarks out with attention. in my name. and kept insisting that there was too little land. that wasn’t everything. and the hempfields. as they call it about us. he had planted all the ditches with willows. ‘I’ve no objection. the vegetables. and had never quite got over it. he had attached to the brick cattle-shed something of the nature of a Greek facade. the outhouses. of course. by way of a proof that growth is none the thicker for being cut back. after all.

worried. but if Sofron had known what a disagreeable incident was in store for him and his master on this last excursion. and would probably have succeeded in inducing them to retire if we had lingered a little longer in the barn. he grew stiff all over. his fists hanging irresolute. They both prostrated themselves at his feet in silence..’ the agent answered slowly. Arkady Pavlitch looked at their bent necks with an air of dignity. As we came out of the barn the following spectacle confronted us. ‘Protect us. The village constable Fedosyitch was busily engaged with them. (The old man spoke with difficulty. and did not utter a syllable. wrinkled neck. and their breathing came quicker.Arkady Pavlitch objected to innovations. only blinked a little as if the sun were in their faces. the agent took us to look at a winnowing machine he had recently ordered from Moscow. the other. in which three ducks were splashing unconcernedly. ‘And don’t be afraid. or what? Tell me. and with cord tied round their waists for belts. and turning at once to Sofron. you.) .’ The old man craned forward his dark brown. what is it?’ Arkady Pavlitch said again. bit his lip. and stood with his legs rather wide apart. there stood two peasants — one an old man of sixty. On our return to the village. ‘Well. near a filthy pool. threw back his head. (The peasants glanced at one another. We are crushed. barefoot. and seemed bereft of all sensation on the spot. ‘Of what family?’ ‘The Tobolyev family. opened his bluish twitching lips. lord!’ and again he bent his forehead to the earth. Pyenotchkin said again. what is it you want?’ he added. A few paces from the door. This was what happened. but catching sight of us. Arkady Pavlitch frowned. ‘have you lost your tongues. The winnowing machine did certainly work beautifully. with a nod at the old man. ‘What is it? Whom do you complain of?’ ‘Have mercy. Close by stood the bailiff gaping. what do you want?’ Mr.) ‘Well. he would doubtless have stopped at home with us. and in a hoarse voice uttered the words. and went up to the suppliants.. lord! Let us breathe. tormented to death quite. a little through his nose. The young peasant prostrated himself too. stupid. ‘What do you want? What are you asking about?’ he inquired in a stern voice. a lad of twenty — both in patched homespun shirts..

when have I been impudent? Before God Almighty. sir. Yesterday. he’s sent for recruits out of turn. your honour. he has ruined us utterly. He’s never been out of arrears this five years back. and lie on the stove. and then he falls at one’s feet. ‘and lazy too. with an air of displeasure. for the first time using this deferential address. Pyenotchkin scowled. sir. ‘you think you’ve nothing to do but drink. I swear it was .’ ‘Sofron Yakovlitch paid the arrears for me. it’s always the way. hanging about the taverns.’ (The old man opened his mouth to speak. too.’ ‘And he’s an impudent fellow. protect us. I’ve noticed it more than once. The whole year round. gracious protector!’ Mr. Pyenotchkin asked threateningly. Two sons. he’s drinking and abusive.’ Arkady Pavlitch was silent again. your honour. ‘have pity.) ‘You’re fond of drinking. ‘He’s a drunken fellow.’ Arkady Pavlitch was silent a minute. I dare say. and now he is taking the third also. and my old wife was beaten by his worship here: that is all the pity he has for us!’ (He pointed to the bailiff. your honour. ‘it’s the fifth year’s come that he’s paid it.) ‘Hm!’ commented Arkady Pavlitch. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he asked the agent. (The old man’s head sank. he pulled his moustaches. ‘Your honour.’ the old man began despairingly. your honour.’ the old man went on.’ the agent threw in. our last cow was taken from the yard.‘Who worries you?’ ‘Sofron Yakovlitch. ‘That’s sure to be so. in a low voice. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘Antip.’ answered the agent. he’s paid it — and he’s brought me into slavery to him. ‘Well! and how has he tormented you?’ he began again.’ ‘And who’s this?’ ‘My boy.’ Arkady Pavlitch went on emphatically.) ‘I know you. your honour.’ ‘Your honour. and here —’ ‘And why did you get into arrears?’ Mr. Arkady Pavlitch. looking over his moustaches at the old man. your honour. your honour. and let steady peasants answer for you. ‘Let him not destroy us to the end.

) ‘Well... and Mr. he’s not the master there. and put his hands in his pockets .. then looked at each other. hey? Till you’re spoken to. Arkady Pavlitch flew into a rage at once. and. Sofron Yakovlitch has taken a dislike to me.. Two hours later I was at Ryabovo. this is simply mutiny! No.’ Arkady Pavlitch turned his back on them. There. for some reason he dislikes me — God be his judge! He will ruin me utterly. and him he. ‘Nothing but vexation. upon my word.’ (The peasants did not rise.beyond my strength. Pyenotchkin’s at all.’ ‘You don’t say so!’ . ‘Have pity.. What’s the meaning of it? Silence. mon cher .. The village constable opened his eyes wide. accompanied by Anpadist.. haven’t I told you . went on their way.. You can go. the last boy .. The bailiff drove a duck away from the puddle. The suppliants remained as they were a little.. you couldn’t find another brute like him between here and Kursk.. I don’t advise you to mutiny on my domain . defend us!’ ‘And it’s not us only.. without turning their heads.’ he said. but probably recollected my presence. looking as if he were just about to take a tremendous leap into space.......’ he muttered between his teeth. a peasant I knew well. turned round.. I tell you. Why. The last . ugh!’ ‘What sort of man is he?’ ‘He’s not a man. ‘And who asked your opinion. dropping his voice significantly.. he’s a dog. and asked him whether he knew the agent there. Sofron’s the master.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Why. Pyenotchkin had been out of humour with Sofron up to the time I left. that’ll do.. I began talking to Anpadist about the Shipilovka peasants.... that’ll do. (Arkady Pavlitch stepped forward... with a forced smile. I tell you... your honour. not looking at the peasants: ‘I say . and strode with long steps homewards. gracious lord. my friend. that’ll do. hold your tongue.’ (A tear glistened in the old man’s wrinkled yellow eyes). on my .. that’ll do. here . Pyenotchkin.. Shipilovka’s hardly reckoned as — what’s his name?— Mr. ‘C’est le mauvais côté de la médaille . silence!.. Sofron followed him. and making ready to begin shooting.’ the young peasant began.. you can go.) ‘Je vous demande bien pardon... ‘Sofron Yakovlitch? .’ he went on.

’ ‘They haven’t much land. unlucky chap. Such a poor. truly.’ commented Anpadist. a dog. the master’d be pleased! There’s no arrears. and one thing and the other. he’ll send one off with the waggons. another way. and butter.‘He’s master.. come to think of it! And what’s his offence?. A great matter.’ he added. he’d let you know.. the agent. He had some wrangle in meeting with him.. not a man. you’d better try it on. he’s such a dog. I suppose. ‘he will eat him up now... I tell you. a cur. The old men that are a bit richer..’ I thought of Antip. so what does he care? Yes. awfully sharp. yes. he does a trade in horses and stock. No. the beast! But what’s bad — he beats them. The peasants all about are in debt to him... .... ‘I should advise you to complain! No. Antip. to make so much of! So he began pecking at him. and told him what I had seen. just as if it were his own. Now he’ll eat him up altogether. He’s sharp... and of course he wouldn’t stand it.. there’s more than three hundred and seventy-five acres he’s got. and pitch.. and hemp. ‘There. and rich too. he’ll simply eat the man up. they work for him like slaves. a regular cur.. and he lost all patience. Such a cur — God forgive my transgressions!— he knows whom to fall upon. You see. I suppose?’ ‘Not much land! He rents two hundred acres from the Hlinovsky peasants alone. He’s a brute. after a brief pause. another. he’d let you know . He harries them out of their lives... you’d better. the red-headed devil! but there’s all the difference here! Why he’s sent Antip’s sons for recruits out of turn. and two hundred and eighty from our folks. And he doesn’t only traffic in land. he doesn’t touch. The bailiff will beat him now.. that’s what he is!’ ‘How is it they don’t make complaints of him?’ ‘I dare say. or’ve more children. the heartless ruffian. the cur! God forgive my transgressions!’ We went on our way.