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Updated: June 28, 2025
Matvey, who has not tasted food or drink all day, trudges up the hill again. Lazy as Seryozhka is, he makes the pegs with his own hands. He knows that those pegs have a miraculous power: whoever gets hold of a peg after the blessing of the water will be lucky for the whole year. Such work is really worth doing. But the real work begins the following day.
In his hands there is a heavy crowbar. "Well, are we going to stand like this till evening with our arms folded?" says Seryozhka, breaking the silence and turning his angry eyes on Matvey. "Have you come here to stand about, old fool, or to work?" "Well, you . . . er . . . show me . . ." Matvey mutters, blinking mildly. "Show you. . . . It's always me: me to show you, and me to do it.
"I am not obliged to work for you! You are employed in the church, you do it!" He obviously enjoys the peculiar position in which he has been placed by the fate that has bestowed on him the rare talent of surprising the whole parish once a year by his art. Poor mild Matvey has to listen to many venomous and contemptuous words from him. Seryozhka sets to work with vexation, with anger. He is lazy.
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