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Updated: June 20, 2025
And Misha began at once digging in the ground, while Timofay stood by, his chin propped in his hand, repeating: 'It's all that's left for you and me, master! Misha dug and dug, from time to time observing: 'Life's not worth living, is it, Timofay? 'It's not indeed, master. The hole was already of a good depth. People saw what Misha was about, and ran to tell the new owner about it.
My sweet Misha, if you ever have any children, which I have no doubt you will, the advice I bequeath to them is not to run after cheap goods. Cheapness in Russian goods is the label of worthlessness. To my mind it is better to go barefoot than to wear cheap boots. Picture my agony! I keep getting out of the chaise, sitting down on damp ground and taking off my boots to rest my heels.
On another occasion still, Mísha is riding along the road by night with his comrades.... And they see yawning, right by the side of the road, a narrow ravine in the nature of a cleft, dark, very dark, and the bottom of it not visible. "Here now," says one comrade, "Mísha is reckless enough about some things, but he will not leap into this ravine." "Yes, I will!"
And with a sudden embrace, and a smacking kiss on my shoulder, Misha darted away into the courtyard, and into the carriage, waved his cap over his head, hallooed, the monstrous coachman leered at him over his beard, the greys dashed off, and all vanished! The next day I like a sinner set off to Sokolniki, and did actually see the tent with the streamer and the inscription.
You will have to ride off now for ropes and lanterns. And in the meanwhile, so that I may not find the waiting tedious, toss me down a flask...." And so Mísha had to sit for five hours at the bottom of the ravine; and when they dragged him out, it appeared that he had a dislocated shoulder. But this did not daunt him in the least.
And we shall both be simply new men, my dear boy; we shall enjoy ourselves so, we shall come back so fat that we shall be proof against the darts of love! 'You are always joking, Misha! 'I'm not joking at all. It was a brilliant idea of yours. 'No; nonsense! Volintsev shouted again. 'I want to fight him, to fight him!... 'Again! What a rage you are in!
'Climb out! shouted his comrades. 'Climb out, I dare say! echoed Misha. 'A likely story! I should like to see you climb out. You'll have to go for torches and ropes now. And, meanwhile, to keep up my spirits while I wait, fling down a flask.... And so Misha had to stay five hours at the bottom of the ravine; and when they dragged him out, it turned out that his shoulder was dislocated.
Misha got up and flung down the spade.... 'Well, Timosha, said he to his old nurse; 'let's do honour to our host.... Come along. 'Yes, sir, answered the old man. And all three started off to the house together. The money-lender knew the man he had to deal with. Some time passed again, and I heard nothing of Misha.... God knows what he was doing.
"What?" "Let me go, or I shall commit a crime, set the house on fire or cut some one's throat." Mísha suddenly fell to shaking. "Order them to restore my garments, and give me a cart to carry me to the highway, and give me a trifling sum of money!" "But art thou dissatisfied with anything?" I began. "I cannot live thus!" he roared at the top of his voice.
On the ground, on an outspread rug, sat the Gipsy men and Gipsy women, singing, and thumping tambourines; and in the middle of them, with a guitar in his hands, clad in a red-silk shirt and full trousers of velvet, Mísha was gyrating like a whirligig. "Gentlemen! Respected sirs! Pray enter! The performance is about to begin! Free!" he was shouting in a cracked voice. "Hey there! Champagne! Bang!
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