go home.”
Michael laughed, but made no reply to his wife’s humane request. Finally he said to her:
“You’ve not been whipped for a very long time, and now you have become bold enough to interfere in affairs that are not your own.”
“Mishinka,” she persisted, “I have had a frightful dream concerning you. You had better let the muzhiks go.”
“Yes,” said he; “I perceive that you have gained so much flesh of late that you think you would not feel the whip. Look out!”
Rudely thrusting his hot pipe against her cheek, Michael chased his wife from the room, after which he ordered his dinner. After eating a hearty meal consisting of cabbage-soup, roast pig, meat-cake, pastry with milk, jelly, sweet cakes, and vodka, he called his woman cook to him and ordered her to be seated and sing songs, Simeonovitch accompanying her on the guitar.