Gabriel wrapped the hair torn from his beard in a paper, and went to the District Court to have the law of Iván. “I didn’t grow my beard,” said he, “for pockmarked Iván to pull it out!” And his wife went bragging to the neighbours, saying they’d have Iván condemned and sent to Siberia. And so the feud grew.

The old man, from where he lay on the top of the oven, tried from the very first to persuade them to make peace, but they would not listen. He told them, “It’s a stupid thing you are after, children, picking quarrels about such a paltry matter. Just think! The whole thing began about an egg. The children may have taken it⁠—well, what matter? What’s the value of one egg? God sends enough for all! And suppose your neighbour did say an unkind word⁠—put it right; show her how to say a better one! If there has been a fight⁠—well, such things will happen; we’re all sinners, but make it up, and let there be an end of it! If you nurse your anger it will be worse for you yourselves.”

But the younger folk would not listen to the old man. They thought his words were mere senseless dotage. Iván would not humble himself before his neighbour.