their lives into one cruel farce. But this enemy
could not be captured because it was invisible.

Then they began beating each other brutally, and drank till they had
drunk everything which they could pawn to the indulgent Vaviloff. And
thus they passed the autumn days in open wickedness, in suffering which
was eating their hearts out, unable to rise out of this vicious life
and in dread of the still crueller days of winter.

Kuvalda in such cases came to their assistance with his philosophy.

"Don't lose your temper, brothers, everything has an end, this is the
chief characteristic of life. The winter will pass, summer will follow
... a glorious time, when the very sparrows are filled with rejoicing."
But his speeches did not have any effect--a mouthful of even the
freshest and purest water will not satisfy a hungry man.

Deacon Taras also tried to amuse the people by singing his songs and
relating his tales. He was more successful, and sometimes his
endeavours ended in a wild and glorious orgy at the eating-house. They
sang, laughed and danced, and for hours behaved like madmen. After
this they again fell into a despairing mood, sitting at the tables of
the eating-house, in the black smoke of the lamp and the tobacco; sad
and tattered, speaking lazily to each other, listening to the wild
howling of the wind, and thinking how they could get enough vodki to
deaden their senses.

And their hand was against every man, and every man's hand against them.

PART II.

All things are relative in this world, and a man cannot sink into any
condition so bad that it could not be worse. One day, towards the end
of September, Captain Aristid Kuvalda was sitting, as was his custom,
on the bench near the door of the dosshouse, looking at the stone
building built by the merchant Petunikoff close to Vaviloff's
eatinghouse, and thinking deeply. This building, which was partly
surrounded by woods, served the purpose of a candle factory.

Painted red, as if with blood, it looked like a cruel machine which,
though not working, opened a row of deep, hungry, gaping jaws, as if
ready to devour and swallow anything. The grey wooden eating-house of
Vaviloff, with its bent roof covered with patches, leaned against one
of the brick walls of the factory, and seemed as if it were some large
form of parasite clinging to it. The Captain was thinking that they
would very soon be making new houses to replace the old building.
"They