ys a fact
that the depraved man from the city is immeasurably worse than the
depraved man from the village. This fact was strikingly illustrated by
the contrast between the formerly well-educated men and the mujiks who
were living in Kuvalda's shelter.

The representative of the latter class was an old mujik called Tyapa.
Tall and angular, he kept his head in such a position that his chin
touched his breast. He was the Captain's first lodger, and it was said
of him that he had a great deal of money hidden somewhere, and for its
sake had nearly had his throat cut some two years ago: ever since then
he carried his head thus. Over his eyes hung greyish eyebrows, and,
looked at in profile, only his crooked nose was to be seen. His shadow
reminded one of a poker. He denied that he had money, and said that
they "only tried to cut his throat out of malice," and from that day he
took to collecting rags, and that is why his head was always bent as if
incessantly looking on the ground. When he went about shaking his
head, and minus a walking-stick in his hand, and a bag on his back--the
signs of his profession--he seemed to be thinking almost to madness,
and, at such times, Kuvalda spoke thus, pointing to him with his finger:

"Look, there is the conscience of Merchant Judas Petunikoff. See how
disorderly, dirty, and low is the escaped conscience."

Tyapa, as a rule, spoke in a hoarse and hardly audible voice, and that
is why he spoke very little, and loved to be alone. But whenever a
stranger, compelled to leave the village, appeared in the dosshouse,
Tyapa seemed sadder and angrier, and followed the unfortunate about
with biting jeers and a wicked chuckling in his throat. He either put
some beggar against him, or himself threatened to rob and beat him,
till the frightened mujik would disappear from the dosshouse and never
more be seen. Then Tyapa was quiet again, and would sit in some corner
mending his rags, or else reading his Bible, which was as dirty, worn,
and old as himself. Only when the teacher brought a newspaper and
began reading did he come from his corner once more. As a rule, Tyapa
listened to what was read silently and sighed often, without asking
anything of anyone. But once when the teacher, having read the paper,
wanted to put it away, Tyapa stretched out his bony hand, and said,
"Give it to me ..."

"What do you want it for?"

"Give it to me ... Perhaps there is something in it about us ..."