oremost of our enemies within
is Bacchus." The pen squeaked, executing upon the paper flourishes like
fish-hooks. Yegor hastened and read over every line several times.
He sat on a stool sprawling his broad feet under the table, well-fed,
bursting with health, with a coarse animal face and a red bull neck.
He was vulgarity itself: coarse, conceited, invincible, proud of having
been born and bred in a pot-house; and Vasilisa quite understood the
vulgarity, but could not express it in words, and could only look
angrily and suspiciously at Yegor. Her head was beginning to ache,
and her thoughts were in confusion from the sound of his voice and his
unintelligible words, from the heat and the stuffiness, and she said
nothing and thought nothing, but simply waited for him to finish
scribbling. But the old man looked with full confidence. He believed in
his old woman who had brought him there, and in Yegor; and when he
had mentioned the hydropathic establishment it could be seen that he
believed in the establishment and the healing efficacy of water.

Having finished the letter, Yegor got up and read the whole of it
through from the beginning. The old man did not understand, but he
nodded his head trustfully.

"That's all right; it is smooth..." he said. "God give you health.
That's all right...."

They laid on the table three five-kopeck pieces and went out of the
tavern; the old man looked immovably straight before him as though he
were blind, and perfect trustfulness was written on his face; but as
Vasilisa came out of the tavern she waved angrily at the dog, and said
angrily:

"Ugh, the plague."

The old woman did not sleep all night; she was disturbed by thoughts,
and at daybreak she got up, said her prayers, and went to the station to
send off the letter.

It was between eight and nine miles to the station.

II

Dr. B. O. Mozelweiser's hydropathic establishment worked on New Year's
Day exactly as on ordinary days; the only difference was that the
porter, Andrey Hrisanfitch, had on a uniform with new braiding, his
boots had an extra polish, and he greeted every visitor with "A Happy
New Year to you!"

It was the morning; Andrey Hrisanfitch was standing at the door, reading
the newspaper. Just at ten o'clock there arrived a general, one of
the habitual visitors, and directly after him the postman; Andrey
Hrisanfitch helped the general off with his great-coat, and said:

"A Happy New Year to your Excellency!