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I walked with Yermolai along beside the pond; but, in the first place, the duck is a wary bird, and is not to be met quite close to the bank; and secondly, even when some straggling and inexperienced teal exposed itself to our shots and lost its life, our dogs were not able to get it out of the thick reeds; in spite of their most devoted efforts they could neither swim nor tread on the bottom, and only cut their precious noses on the sharp reeds for nothing.
It turned out that Yermolai had spoken the truth: the shaft-horse really could not put its hoof to the ground. I promptly gave orders for it to have the shoe taken off, and to be stood on damp clay. 'Then do you wish me to hire horses to go to Tula? Yermolai persisted. 'Do you suppose we can get horses in this wilderness? I exclaimed with involuntary irritation.
It appeared that Yermolai, on engaging Filofey, had stated that he could be sure that, fool as he was, he'd be paid... and nothing more! Filofey, fool as he was in Yermolai's words was not satisfied with this statement alone. He demanded, of me fifty roubles an exorbitant price; I offered him ten a low price.
She can read and write; in their business it's of use. I suppose he liked her. 'And have you known her long? 'Yes. I used to go to her master's. Their house isn't far from here. 'And do you know the footman Petrushka? 'Piotr Vassilyevitch? Of course, I knew him. 'Where is he now? 'He was sent for a soldier. We were silent for a while. 'She doesn't seem well? I asked Yermolai at last.
'Yes, replied Yermolai with his habitual equanimity; 'what you said about this village is true enough; but there used to be living in this very place one peasant a very clever fellow! rich too! He had nine horses. He's dead, and his eldest son manages it all now. The man's a perfect fool, but still he's not had time to waste his father's wealth yet. We can get horses from him.
That is the meaning of 'stand-shooting. And so I had gone out stand- shooting with Yermolai; but excuse me, reader: I must first introduce you to Yermolai. Picture to yourself a tall gaunt man of forty-five, with a long thin nose, a narrow forehead, little grey eyes, a bristling head of hair, and thick sarcastic lips.
It's dark out of doors. 'To Tchaplino. 'But what's taking you to Tchaplino, ten miles away? 'I am going to stay the night at Sophron's there. 'But stay the night here. 'No, I can't. And Yermolai, with his Valetka, would go off into the dark night, through woods and water-courses, and the peasant Sophron very likely did not let him into his place, and even, I am afraid, gave him a blow to teach him 'not to disturb honest folks. But none could compare with Yermolai in skill in deep-water fishing in spring-time, in catching crayfish with his hands, in tracking game by scent, in snaring quails, in training hawks, in capturing the nightingales who had the greatest variety of notes. ... One thing he could not do, train a dog; he had not patience enough.
He buried himself again in his feather-bed, and the next morning, when they came to wake me, he was no longer in the room. He had left before daylight. One hot summer day I was coming home from hunting in a light cart; Yermolai sat beside me dozing and scratching his nose. The sleeping dogs were jolted up and down like lifeless bodies under our feet.
Vladimir had assumed an air of languor; he leaned his head on one side, and spoke little. Yermolai was cleaning our guns.
Little, black-eyed, sharp-nosed fellows, they certainly produced the impression of 'smart chaps'; they talked a great deal, very fast 'clacked away, as Yermolai expressed it but obeyed the elder brother. They dragged the coach out of the shed and were busy about it and the horses for an hour and a half; first they let out the traces, which were of cord, then pulled them too tight again!
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