Polikéy began telling him how a peasant gave the doctor a five-rouble note and got rejected.

Elijah drew nearer the oven, and started talking.

“No, Polikéy, it’s all up now! I don’t wish to stay myself. Uncle has done for me. As if we could not have bought a substitute!⁠ ⁠… No, he pities his son, and grudges the money, so they send me. No! I don’t want to stay myself.” He spoke gently, confidingly, under the influence of quiet sorrow. “One thing only⁠—I am sorry for mother, dear heart!⁠ ⁠… How she grieved! And the missus, too!⁠ ⁠… They’ve ruined the woman just for nothing; now she’ll perish⁠—in a word, she’ll be a soldier’s wife! Better not have married. Why did they marry me?⁠ ⁠… They’ll come here tomorrow.”

“But why have they brought you so soon?” asked Polikéy; “nothing was heard about it, and then, all of a sudden⁠ ⁠…”