"
"Tatiana?"
And Kapiton opened his eyes, and moved a little away from the wall.
"Well, what are you in such a taking for? . . . Isn't she to your taste,
hey?"
"Not to my taste, do you say, Gavrila Andreitch? She's right enough, a
hard-working steady girl. . . But you know very well yourself, Gavrila
Andreitch, why that fellow, that wild man of the woods, that monster of
the steppes, he's after her, you know. . ."
"I know, mate, I know all about it," the butler cut him short in a tone
of annoyance: "but there, you see . . ."
"But upon my soul, Gavrila Andreitch! why, he'll kill me, by God, he
will, he'll crush me like some fly; why, he's got a fist--why, you
kindly look yourself what a fist he's got; why, he's simply got a fist
like Minin Pozharsky's. You see he's deaf, he beats and does not hear
how he's beating! He swings his great fists, as if he's asleep. And
there's no possibility of pacifying him; and for why? Why, because, as
you know yourself, Gavrila Andreitch, he's deaf, and what's more, has no
more wit than the heel of my foot. Why, he's a sort of beast, a heathen
idol, Gavrila Andreitch, and worse . . . a block of wood; what have I done
that I should have to suffer from him now? Sure it is, it's all over me
now; I've knocked about, I've had enough to put up with, I've been
battered like an earthenware pot, but still I'm a man, after all, and
not a worthless pot.
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