are bad! The
gentleman is a good soul, excellent, and you are a beast, bad! The
gentleman is alive, but you are a dead carcass.... God created man to
be alive, and to have joy and grief and sorrow; but you want nothing,
so you are not alive, you are stone, clay! A stone wants nothing and you
want nothing. You are a stone, and God does not love you, but He loves
the gentleman!"

Everyone laughed; the Tatar frowned contemptuously, and with a wave
of his hand wrapped himself in his rags and went to the campfire. The
ferrymen and Semyon sauntered to the hut.

"It's cold," said one ferryman huskily as he stretched himself on the
straw with which the damp clay floor was covered.

"Yes, its not warm," another assented. "It's a dog's life...."

They all lay down. The door was thrown open by the wind and the snow
drifted into the hut; nobody felt inclined to get up and shut the door:
they were cold, and it was too much trouble.

"I am all right," said Semyon as he began to doze. "I wouldn't wish
anyone a better life."

"You are a tough one, we all know. Even the devils won't take you!"

Sounds like a dog's howling came from outside.

"What's that? Who's there?"

"It's the Tatar crying."

"I say.... He's a queer one!"

"He'll get u-used to it!" said Semyon, and at once fell asleep.

The others were soon asleep too. The door remained unclosed.

THE CATTLE-DEALERS

THE long goods train has been standing for hours in the little station.
The engine is as silent as though its fire had gone out; there is not a
soul near the train or in the station yard.

A pale streak of light comes from one of the vans and glides over the
rails of a siding. In that van two men are sitting on an outspread cape:
one is an old man with a big gray beard, wearing a sheepskin coat and a
high lambskin hat, somewhat like a busby; the other a beardless youth
in a threadbare cloth reefer jacket and muddy high boots. They are the
owners of the goods. The old man sits, his legs stretched out before
him, musing in silence; the young man half reclines and softly strums
on a cheap accordion. A lantern with a tallow candle in it is hanging on
the wall near them.

The van is quite full. If one glances in through the dim light of
the lantern, for the first moment the eyes receive an impression of
something shapeless, monstrous, and unmistakably alive, something very
much like gigantic crabs which move their claws and feelers, crowd
together,