ough my poverty
I was--in appearance, I mean--not a man to be relied upon, not a man of
any worth, we were both brought to trial; he was sent to prison, but,
praise God! I was acquitted on all points. They read a notice, you know,
in the court. And they were all in uniforms--in the court, I mean. I
can tell you, your honor, my duties for anyone not used to them are
terrible, absolutely killing; but to me it is nothing. In fact, my feet
ache when I am not walking. And at home it is worse for me. At home one
has to heat the stove for the clerk in the _volost_ office, to fetch
water for him, to clean his boots."

"And what wages do you get?" Lyzhin asked.

"Eighty-four roubles a year."

"I'll bet you get other little sums coming in. You do, don't you?"

"Other little sums? No, indeed! Gentlemen nowadays don't often give
tips. Gentlemen nowadays are strict, they take offense at anything.
If you bring them a notice they are offended, if you take off your cap
before them they are offended. 'You have come to the wrong entrance,'
they say. 'You are a drunkard,' they say. 'You smell of onion; you are a
blockhead; you are the son of a bitch.' There are kind-hearted ones, of
course; but what does one get from them? They only laugh and call one
all sorts of names. Mr. Altuhin, for instance, he is a good-natured
gentleman; and if you look at him he seems sober and in his right mind,
but so soon as he sees me he shouts and does not know what he means
himself. He gave me such a name 'You,' said he,..." The constable
uttered some word, but in such a low voice that it was impossible to
make out what he said.

"What?" Lyzhin asked. "Say it again."

"'Administration,'" the constable repeated aloud. "He has been
calling me that for a long while, for the last six years. 'Hullo,
Administration!' But I don't mind; let him, God bless him! Sometimes a
lady will send one a glass of vodka and a bit of pie and one drinks to
her health. But peasants give more; peasants are more kind-hearted,
they have the fear of God in their hearts: one will give a bit of bread,
another a drop of cabbage soup, another will stand one a glass. The
village elders treat one to tea in the tavern. Here the witnesses have
gone to their tea. 'Loshadin,' they said, 'you stay here and keep watch
for us,' and they gave me a kopeck each. You see, they are frightened,
not being used to it, and yesterday they gave me fifteen kopecks and
offered me a glass."

"And you,