“He’ll bribe them,” the grim, grey-headed convict, who had by now finished his soup, brought out jerkily.

“To be sure he will,” said another. “He’s grabbed money enough! He had a battalion before he came to us. The other day he was wanting to marry the head priest’s daughter.”

“But he didn’t⁠—they showed him the door, he was too poor. He’s not much of a match! When he gets up from a chair he takes all he’s got with him. He lost all his money gambling at Easter. Fedka said so.”

“Yes; the lad’s not one to spend, but he gets through cash no end.”

“Ah, brother, I was married too. It’s no use for a man to be married: when you are married the night’s too short,” remarked Skuratov, putting his word in.