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We have nothing more to wait for . . . except the reward that I shall get out out of Egorka, . . ." said the Captain, looking angrily at the eating-house. "So our peaceful life under the roof of Judas has come to an end. "Judas will now turn us out . . . So do not say that I have not warned you." Kanets smiled sadly. "What are you laughing at, jailer?" Kuvalda asked. "Where shall I go then?"
Go and get a place for yourself, and see that it is not other people's, or else they will blow you up. The people that live here are particular." "Don't you sell tea, bread, or anything to eat?" "I trade only in walls and roofs, for which I pay to the swindling proprietor of this hole Judas Petunikoff, merchant of the second guild five roubles a month," explained Kuvalda in a business-like tone.
Besides that, whenever he fought or quarrelled, he was assisted by Martyanoff, who was accustomed during a general fight to stand silently and sadly back to back with Kuvalda, when he became an all destroying and impregnable engine of war. Once when Simtsoff was drunk, he rushed at the teacher for no reason whatever, and getting hold of his head tore out a bunch of hair.
"Just look at the old devil!" swore Abyedok, looking at Simtsoff, who was smiling in a self-satisfied way. "And do you know why they love me? Because I know how to cheer up their souls." "Do you?" inquired Kuvalda. "And I can make them pity me.... And a woman, when she pities! Go and weep to her, and ask her to kill you ... she will pity you and she will kill you."
Now then, the first toast... Come along!" They drank and shouted, and began to eat. "The teacher is not here... I have not seen him for three days. Has anyone seen him?" asked Kuvalda. "No one." "It is unlike ... Let us drink to the health of Aristid Kuvalda ... the only friend who has never deserted me for one moment of my life! Devil take him all the same!
"I shall not go any further." "They are coming here!" shouted the Captain. "The police!" someone whispered in great alarm. "In a droshky! Fool!" said Martyanoff, quietly. Kuvalda got up and went to the entrance. "Is this a lodging-house?" asked someone, in a trembling voice. "Yes. Belonging to Aristid Kuvalda ..." said the Captain, roughly. "Oh! Did a reporter, one Titoff, live here?" "Aha!
"It is quite time for that!" said the Captain, gloomily. "It is," Tyapa agreed. "You ought to die too... Anything is better than this..." "But perhaps death might be worse? How do you know?" "It could not be worse. When you die you have only God to deal with ... but here you have to deal with men ... and men what are they?" "Enough! ... Be quiet!" interrupted Kuvalda, angrily.
For all this they were paid with vodki and flattering admiration of their talents. The inhabitants of the street were divided into two parties according to their sympathies. One was in favor of Kuvalda, who was thought "a good soldier, clever, and courageous"; the other was convinced of the fact that the teacher was "superior" to Kuvalda.
Tall, gray, and imposing, Kuvalda spoke in half whispers, and his deep bass voice rang through the house Vaviloff always feared him because he was not only a retired military man, but a man who had nothing to lose. But now Kuvalda appeared before him in a new role. He did not speak much, and jocosely as usual, but spoke in the tone of a commander, who was convinced of the other's guilt.
All things are relative in this world, and a man cannot sink into any condition so bad that it could not be worse. One day, toward the end of September, Captain Aristid Kuvalda was sitting, as was his custom, on the bench near the door of the dosshouse, looking at the stone building built by the merchant Petunikoff close to Vaviloff's eating-house, and thinking deeply.
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