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Updated: May 29, 2025
Vaviloff did not understand at all; but the Captain spoke in such a serious and convincing tone that the sergeant's eyes burned with curiosity, and, telling him that he would see if the papers were in his desk, he went through the door behind the bar. Two minutes later he returned with the papers in his hand, and an expression of extreme astonishment on his face.
"That is true," Vaviloff nodded "I knew that before." "Well, what then?" asked the merchant loudly. "Nothing . . . let us be friends!" "It is nice to see that you have decided so quickly. Look here, I have already prepared a notification to the court of the withdrawal of the summons against my father. Here it is; read it, and sign it."
The eating-house of Vaviloff was the club of the main street, and the "creatures that once were men" were its most intellectual members. On Saturday evenings or Sunday mornings, when the eating-house was packed, the "creatures that once were men" were only too welcome guests.
"Show it me!" shouted the Captain, striking the bar with his fist and sitting down on a stool close by. "But why?" asked Vaviloff, knowing that it was better to keep his wits about him when Kuvalda got excited. "You fool! Bring it at once." Vaviloff rubbed his forehead, and turned his eyes to the ceiling in a tired way. "Where are those papers of yours?"
You rotten pimple of the earth!" shouted the Captain, rolling his eyes. "He has punished me enough already in forcing me to have conversation with you.... I will kill you on the spot like a fly!" He shook his fist in Vaviloff's face and ground his teeth till they nearly broke. After he had gone Vaviloff began smiling and winking to himself. Then two large drops rolled down his cheeks.
He wrote petitions for them and published various remarks in the newspapers. For instance, on one occasion Vaviloff's customers noticed that the herrings and other provisions of the eating-house were not what they should be, and after a day or two they saw Vaviloff standing at the bar with the newspaper in his hand making a public apology.
After this, he took out his eye-glasses, and began cleaning them with his handkerchief. Vaviloff looked at him sadly and respectfully. The calm face of Petunikoff, his grey eyes and clear complexion, every line of his thickset body betokened self-confidence and a well-balanced mind.
The place of the merchant Judas Petunikoff ought to be in penal servitude, but he still walks through the streets in daylight, and even intends to build a factory. The place of our teacher ought to be beside a wife and half-a-dozen children, but he is loitering in the public-house of Vaviloff. And then, there is yourself.
Even now, for instance, I should advise you to open a small shop for tobacco, you know, bread, cucumbers, and so on . . . All these are sure to be in great demand." Vaviloff listened, and being a clever man, knew that to throw himself upon the enemy's generosity was the better plan.
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. And Vaviloff felt that the Captain could and would ruin him with the greatest pleasure.
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