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Updated: May 26, 2025
Vanka's mouth worked, he rubbed his eyes with his black fist, and gave a sob. "I will powder your snuff for you," he went on. "I will pray for you, and if I do anything you can thrash me like Sidor's goat. And if you think I've no job, then I will beg the steward for Christ's sake to let me clean his boots, or I'll go for a shepherd-boy instead of Fedka.
My dear friend, haven't you in your library Tagantsev's "Criminal Law"? If you have, couldn't you send it me? I would buy it, but I am now "a poor relation" a beggar and as poor as Sidor's goat. Would you telephone to your shop, too, to send me, on account of favours to come, two books: "The Laws relating to Exiles," and "The Laws relating to Persons under Police Control."
"Do whip me, grandfather, do; beat me like Sidor's goat, but only take me to mammy, for God's mercy!..." "Come, come, grandson, come!" the coachman said kindly. "It's all right, don't be frightened....I am frightened myself.... Say your prayers!" The door creaked and the porter's head appeared. "Aren't you asleep, Stepan?" he asked. "I shan't get any sleep all night," he said, coming in.
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