“Yákov Alpátych, discharge me! Take the keys from me and discharge me, for Christ’s sake!”

“Stop that!” cried Alpátych sternly. “I see through you and three yards under you,” he repeated, knowing that his skill in beekeeping, his knowledge of the right time to sow the oats, and the fact that he had been able to retain the old prince’s favor for twenty years had long since gained him the reputation of being a wizard, and that the power of seeing three yards under a man is considered an attribute of wizards.

Dron got up and was about to say something, but Alpátych interrupted him.

“What is it you have got into your heads, eh?⁠ ⁠… What are you thinking of, eh?”

“What am I to do with the people?” said Dron. “They’re quite beside themselves; I have already told them⁠ ⁠…”

“ ‘Told them,’ I dare say!” said Alpátych. “Are they drinking?” he asked abruptly.