“One must judge according to one’s conscience, my dear friend,” spoke the good-humoured Hrapkóf, repeating Kopýlof’s words, and pulling Doútlof by his sheepskin.

“That was the proprietor’s will, and not the decision of the Commune.”

“That’s right! That’s what it is,” said others.

“What drunkard is drivelling?” Resoún retorted to Doútlof. “Did you stand me any drinks? Or is your son, whom they pick up by the roadside, going to reproach me with drink?⁠ ⁠… Friends, we must decide! If you want to spare Doútlof, choose not only out of families with two men, but even the one man of a family, and he will have the laugh of us!”

“Doútlof’s will have to go! What’s the good of talking?”

“It’s evident the three-men families must be the first to draw lots,” began different voices.