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Updated: June 17, 2025
Am I right, Martyanoff? Let us therefore drink . . . while we still have life!" The rain began to fall. Thick, close darkness covered the figures that lay scattered over the ground, half drunk, half asleep. The light in the windows of the dosshouse flickered, paled, and suddenly disappeared. Probably the wind blew it out or else the oil was exhausted.
Probably Kuvalda arranged the matter intentionally so that the teacher could not leave the dosshouse, though he desired to do so with all his heart. We can pity our own faults in others. This teacher had once taught at an institution in one of the towns on the Volga, but in consequence of some story was dismissed. After this he was a clerk in a tannery, but again had to leave.
It was only with him that Aristid Kuvalda could philosophise with the certainty of being understood. He valued this, and when the reformed teacher prepared to leave the dosshouse in order to get a corner in town for himself, then Aristid Kuvalda accompanied him so sorrowfully and sadly that it ended, as a rule, in their both getting drunk and spending all their money.
And the Captain felt that if he could only make the life of such an enemy miserable, even temporarily, oh! with what pleasure he would do it! Yesterday, Ivan Andreyevitch Petunikoff was in the dosshouse yard with his son and an architect.
"That, my soul, is a question that fate will settle for you, so do not worry," said the Captain, thoughtfully, entering the dosshouse. "The creatures that once were men" followed him. "We can do nothing but await the critical moment," said the Captain, walking about among them.
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