ion, the
accursed reporter!"

"Why the reporter?"

"He writes for the papers ... He is one of your lodgers ... there they
all are outside ... Clear them away, for Christ's sake! The robbers!
They disturb and annoy everyone in the street. One cannot live for
them ... And they are all desperate fellows ... You had better take
care, or else they will rob or burn you ..."

"And this reporter, who is he?" asked Petunikoff, with interest.

"He? A drunkard. He was a teacher but was dismissed. He drank
everything he possessed ... and now he writes for the papers and
composes petitions. He is a very wicked man!"

"H'm! And did he write your petition, too? I suppose it was he who
discovered the flaws in the building. The beams were not rightly put
in?"

"He did! I know it for a fact! The dog! He read it aloud in here and
boasted, 'Now I have caused Petunikoff some loss!'"

"Ye--es... Well, then, do you want to be reconciled?"

"To be reconciled?" The soldier lowered his head and thought. "Ah!
This is a hard life!" said he, in a querulous voice, scratching his
head.

"One must learn by experience," Petunikoff reassured him, lighting a
cigarette.

"Learn ... It is not that, my dear sir; but don't you see there is no
freedom? Don't you see what a life I lead? I live in fear and
trembling ... I am refused the freedom so desirable to me in my
movements, and I fear this ghost of a teacher will write about me in
the papers. Sanitary inspectors will be called for ... fines will have
to be paid ... or else your lodgers will set fire to the place or rob
and kill me ... I am powerless against them. They are not the least
afraid of the police, and they like going to prison, because they get
their food for nothing there."

"But then we will have them turned out if we come to terms with you,"
promised Petunikoff.

"What shall we arrange, then?" asked Vaviloff, sadly and seriously.

"Tell me your terms."

"Well, give me the six hundred mentioned in the claim."

"Won't you take a hundred roubles?" asked the merchant, calmly, looking
attentively at his companion, and smiling softly. "I will not give you
one rouble more," ... he added.

After this, he took out his eye-glasses, and began cleaning them with
his handkerchief. Vaviloff looked at him sadly and respectfully. The
calm face of Petunikoff, his grey eyes and clear complexion, every line
of his thickset body betokened self-confidence and a well