“Where is he?”

“You see, I took him first thing at dawn,” Tíkhon continued, spreading out his flat feet with outturned toes in their bast shoes. “I took him into the forest. Then I see he’s no good and think I’ll go and fetch a likelier one.”

“You see?⁠ ⁠… What a wogue⁠—it’s just as I thought,” said Denísov to the esaul . “Why didn’t you bwing that one?”

“What was the good of bringing him?” Tíkhon interrupted hastily and angrily⁠—“that one wouldn’t have done for you. As if I don’t know what sort you want!”

“What a bwute you are!⁠ ⁠… Well?”