After that night when he beat his wife, he had gone to the landowner whose wood was for sale, but he was unsuccessful: the wood had already been sold. So he returned to Moscow, and there took to drink. Before this he used to drink at times, but now he drank for a fortnight on end. When he came to himself he went south to buy cattle. His purchase proved unlucky, and he lost money. He went again, but lost a second time; and in a year his three thousand roubles had dwindled to twenty-five, and he was obliged to work for an employer instead of being his own master. From that time onwards he drank more and more often. For a year he lived as assistant to a cattle-dealer, but had a drinking bout while on the road, and the dealer dismissed him. Then, through a friend, he got a place as shopman at a wine and spirit dealer’s, but did not stay there long, either, for his accounts got wrong, and he was dismissed. Shame and anger prevented his returning home.

“Let them live without me! Maybe the boy is not mine, either,” thought he.