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Updated: June 18, 2025
"He writes for the papers . . . He is one of your lodgers . . . there they all are outside . . . Clear them away, for Christ's sake! The robbers! They disturb and annoy everyone in the street. One cannot live for them . . . And they are all desperate fellows . . . You had better take care, or else they will rob or burn you. "And this reporter, who is he?" asked Petunikoff, with interest. "He?
They measured the yard and put small wooden sticks in various places, which, after the exit of Petunikoff and at the order of the Captain, Meteor took out and threw away. To the eyes of the Captain this merchant appeared small and thin. He wore a long garment like a frock-coat, a velvet cap, and high, well-cleaned boots.
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.
After this, he took out his eyeglasses and began cleaning them with his handkerchief. Vaviloff looked at him sadly and respectfully. The calm face of Petunikoff, his gray eyes and clear complexion, every line of his thickset body betokened self-confidence and a well-balanced mind.
"You are the proof of that," said Petunikoff quietly, while his eyes shot forth poisonous glances. And he went away, leaving Kuvalda under the pleasant impression that the merchant was afraid of him. If he were not afraid of him he would long ago have evicted him from the dosshouse. But then he would think twice before turning him out, because of the five roubles a month.
"Of course you already know me, and I presume you guess what I am going to say to you," began Petunikoff. "About the lawsuit? . . . I presume?" remarked the ex-sergeant respectfully. "Exactly! I am glad to see that you are not beating about the bush, but going straight to the point like a business man," said Petunikoff encouragingly. "I am a soldier," answered Vaviloff, with a modest air.
"You can do nothing to me without witnesses . . . Your son cannot give evidence on your side" . . . the Captain warned him. "Look out all the same, you old wretch, you may be found guilty too!" And Petunikoff shook his fist at him. His son, deeply engrossed in his calculations, took no notice of the dark group of men, who were taking such a wicked delight in adding to his father's discomfiture.
With money it would be possible even for Elia to destroy the whole of Europe and to take Judas Petunikoff for his valet. He would go . . . Give him a hundred roubles a month and he would go! But he would be a bad valet, because he would soon begin to steal. . . ." "Now, besides that, the thin woman is better than the stout one, because she costs one less," said the Deacon, convincingly.
At the door facing him stood an old man with a stick in his hand and a large bag on his back, a horrible old man in rags and tatters, which covered his bony figure. He bent under the weight of his burden, and lowered his head on his breast, as if he wished to attack the merchant. "What are you? Who are you?" shouted Petunikoff. "A man ..." he answered in a hoarse voice.
Every one of them was disappointed, because they all knew that something they did not expect had taken place between Petunikoff and Vaviloff, and they all felt that they had been insulted. The feeling that one is unable to injure anyone is worse than the feeling that one is unable to do good, because to do harm is far easier and simpler. "Well, why are we loitering here?
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