“Yes, for a rouble I will.”

“Seventy kopecks is plenty.”

“There, now! He’s stuffed his own paunch, but wants to squeeze thirty kopecks out of a poor man!”

“Well, all right, then⁠ ⁠… drive up!” said Kornéy.

And, placing his portmanteau and bundle in the small sledge, he sat down, filling the whole of the back seat. Kouzmá remained on the box in front.

“All right, drive on.”

They drove across the ruts near the station and reached the smooth high road.

“Well, and how go things in the village⁠—with you, I mean?” asked Kornéy.

“Why, not up to much.”

“How’s that?⁠ ⁠… And is my old mother still alive?”