The Tartars talked awhile, and then the interpreter said, “Three thousand roubles.”
“No,” said Zhílin, “I can’t pay so much.”
Abdul jumped up and, waving his arms, talked to Zhílin, thinking, as before, that he would understand. The interpreter translated: “How much will you give?”
Zhílin considered, and said, “Five hundred roubles.” At this the Tartars began speaking very quickly, all together. Abdul began to shout at the red-bearded one, and jabbered so fast that the spittle spurted out of his mouth. The red-bearded one only screwed up his eyes and clicked his tongue.
They quietened down after a while, and the interpreter said, “Five hundred roubles is not enough for the master. He paid two hundred for you himself. Kazi-Mohammed was in debt to him, and he took you in payment. Three thousand roubles! Less than that won’t do. If you refuse to write, you will be put into a pit and flogged with a whip!”
“Eh!” thought Zhílin, “the more one fears them the worse it will be.”
So he sprang to his feet, and said, “You tell that dog that if he tries to frighten me I will not write at all, and he will get nothing. I never was afraid of you dogs, and never will be!”
The interpreter translated, and again they all began to talk at once.
They jabbered for a long time, and then the dark man jumped up, came to Zhílin, and said: “ Dzhigit Russ, dzhigit Russ! ” ( Dzhigit in their language means “brave.”) And he laughed, and said something to the interpreter, who translated: “One thousand roubles will satisfy him.”
Zhílin stuck to it: “I will not give more than five hundred. And if you kill me you’ll get nothing at all.”