“What a lot of people!” sighed Nevyrazimov, looking down into the street, where shadows of men flitted one after another by the illumination lamps. “They’re all hurrying to the midnight service.⁠ ⁠… Our fellows have had a drink by now, you may be sure, and are strolling about the town. What a lot of laughter, what a lot of talk! I’m the only unlucky one, to have to sit here on such a day: And I have to do it every year!”

“Well, nobody forces you to take the job. It’s not your turn to be on duty today, but Zastupov hired you to take his place. When other folks are enjoying themselves you hire yourself out. It’s greediness!”

“Devil a bit of it! Not much to be greedy over⁠—two roubles is all he gives me; a necktie as an extra.⁠ ⁠… It’s poverty, not greediness. And it would be jolly, now, you know, to be going with a party to the service, and then to break the fast.⁠ ⁠… To drink and to have a bit of supper and tumble off to sleep.⁠ ⁠… One sits down to the table, there’s an Easter cake and the samovar hissing, and some charming little thing beside you.⁠ ⁠… You drink a glass and chuck her under the chin, and it’s first-rate.⁠ ⁠… You feel you’re somebody.⁠ ⁠… Ech-h-h!⁠ ⁠… I’ve made a mess of things! Look at that hussy driving by in her carriage, while I have to sit here and brood.”

“We each have our lot in life, Ivan Danilitch. Please God, you’ll be promoted and drive about in your carriage one day.”

“I? No, brother, not likely. I shan’t get beyond a ‘titular,’ not if I try till I burst. I’m not an educated man.”

“Our General has no education either, but⁠ ⁠…”