The old man, without speaking, gave Egór Miháylovitch a significant look.

“He can’t escape,” said Egór Miháylovitch, in answer to that look.

“We’d be glad enough to buy a substitute, but have not the means, Egór Miháylovitch. Two horses went to the knacker’s this summer, and then there was my nephew’s wedding.⁠ ⁠… Evidently it’s our fate⁠ ⁠… for living honestly. It’s very well for him to talk!” (He was thinking of Resoún.)

Egór Miháylovitch rubbed his face with his hand and yawned. He was evidently tired of the subject; besides, he was ready for his tea.

“Eh, old fellow! Don’t you be mean!” said he. “Have a hunt in the cellar; I dare say you’ll turn up some four hundred old rouble notes, and I’ll get you a substitute⁠—a regular wonder!⁠ ⁠… The other day a fellow came offering himself.”