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"Whom do you mean?" asked my father. "To Hrisanf Lukitch," my aunt articulated, with slight hesitation. "To Hrisashka?" asked my father, and with a wave of his hand, he added: "It's all one to me. You can throw it in the stove, if you like." He buttoned up his open vest and went out, writhing from his coughing.
I would not allow that cursed Hrisashka to jeer at me.... He would put on the watch, let the chain hang over his stomach, would neigh with delight; no, indeed! "Quite so, but how was it to be done, how to prevent it?" I determined to steal the watch from my aunt.
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