Stepan Trofimovitch was still walking, they had not yet taken him into the cart. A guess that was a stroke of genius flashed through his mind.

“You think perhaps that I am⁠ ⁠… I’ve got a passport and I am a professor, that is, if you like, a teacher⁠ ⁠… but a head teacher. I am a head teacher. Oui, c’est comme ça qu’on peut traduire. I should be very glad of a lift and I’ll buy you⁠ ⁠… I’ll buy you a quart of vodka for it.”

“It’ll be half a rouble, sir; it’s a bad road.”

“Or it wouldn’t be fair to ourselves,” put in the woman.

“Half a rouble? Very good then, half a rouble. C’est encore mieux; j’ai en tout quarante roubles mais ⁠ ⁠…”