The public understands it. They understand the morale of the creature
who was once a man, the morale of the public-house and much misfortune.

"Well, brother Yashka, did you understand? See how true it is!"

Yakov understood that to beat her incautiously might be injurious to
his wife. He is silent, replying to his companions' jokes with
confused smiles.

"Then again, what is a wife?" philosophises the baker, Mokei Anisimoff.
"A wife ... is a friend ... if we look at the matter in that way. She
is like a chain, chained to you for life ... and you are both just like
galley slaves. And if you try to get away from her, you cannot, you
feel the chain ..."

"Wait," says Yakovleff; "but you beat your wife too."

"Did I say that I did not? I beat her... There is nothing else
handy... Do you expect me to beat the wall with my fist when my
patience is exhausted?"

"I feel just like that too..." says Yakov.

"How hard and difficult our life is, my brothers! There is no real
rest for us anywhere!"

"And even you beat your wife by mistake," some one remarks humorously.
And thus they speak till far on in the night or till they have
quarrelled, the usual result of drink or of passions engendered by such
discussions.

The rain beats on the windows, and outside the cold wind is blowing.
The eating-house is close with tobacco smoke, but it is warm, while the
street is cold and wet. Now and then, the wind beats threateningly on
the windows of the eating-house, as if bidding these men to come out
and be scattered like dust over the face of the earth. Sometimes a
stifled and hopeless groan is heard in its howling which again is
drowned by cold, cruel laughter. This music fills one with dark, sad
thoughts of the approaching winter, with its accursed short, sunless
days and long nights, of the necessity of possessing warm garments and
plenty to eat. It is hard to sleep through the long winter nights on
an empty stomach. Winter is approaching. Yes, it is approaching...
How to live?

These gloomy forebodings created a strong thirst among the inhabitants
of the main street, and the sighs of the "creatures that once were men"
increased with the wrinkles on their brows, their voices became thick
and their behaviour to each other more blunt. And brutal crimes were
committed among them, and the roughness of these poor unfortunate
outcasts was apt to increase at the approach of that inexorable enemy,
who transformed all