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Updated: May 12, 2025
'What are you calling me for?... Who's waiting for me? 'What am I calling you for? repeated the man in the frieze coat reproachfully. You're a queer fish, Blinkard: we call you to come to the tavern, and you ask what for? Here are honest folks all waiting for you: Yashka the Turk, and the Wild Master, and the booth-keeper from Zhizdry.
'Come, come, no nonsense begin! protested the Wild Master, and he looked down. The booth-keeper thought a minute, shook his head, and stepped forward. Yakov's eyes were riveted upon him. But before I enter upon a description of the contest itself, I think it will not be amiss to say a few words about each of the personages taking part in my story.
'There, I said you'd begin, cried the Gabbler; 'didn't I say so? 'There, there, don't cluck, remarked the Wild Master contemptuously. 'Begin, he went on, with a nod to the booth-keeper. 'What song am I to sing? asked the booth-keeper, beginning to be nervous. 'What you choose, answered the Blinkard; 'sing what you think best.
The booth-keeper softly rose and went up to Yakov. 'You... yours... you've won, he articulated at last with an effort, and rushed out of the room. His rapid, decided action, as it were, broke the spell; we all suddenly fell into noisy, delighted talk.
But, in spite of the unanimously expressed desire, neither began; the booth-keeper did not even get up from the bench they all seemed to be waiting for something. 'Begin! said the Wild Master sharply and sullenly. Yashka started. The booth-keeper pulled down his girdle and cleared his throat.
They dragged him to the bar; he beckoned the weeping peasant up to it, and sent the innkeeper's little son to look after the booth-keeper, who was not found, however; and the festivities began. 'You'll sing to us again; you're going to sing to us till evening, the Gabbler declared, flourishing his hands in the air. I took one more look at Yakov and went out.
What especially struck me in him was the combination of a sort of inborn natural ferocity, with an equally inborn generosity a combination I have never met in any other man. And so the booth-keeper stepped forward, and, half shutting his eyes, began singing in high falsetto.
The Wild Master alone did not change countenance, and stood motionless as before; but his eyes, fastened on the booth-keeper, looked somewhat softened, though the expression of his lips was still scornful.
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