lse can he do?
But look here, Egorka, mind you don't go in for doing it on the cheap.
They are sure to try to buy you off. Don't sell yourself cheap. They
will probably use threats, but rely upon us..."

The Captain's eyes were alight with happiness, and his face red with
excitement. He worked upon Vaviloff's greed, and urging upon him the
importance of immediate action in the matter, went away in a very
joyful and happy frame of mind.

* * * * *

In the evening everyone was told of the Captain's discovery, and they
all began to discuss Petunikoff's future predicament, painting in vivid
colours his excitement and astonishment on the day the court messenger
handed him the copy of the summons. The Captain felt himself quite a
hero. He was happy and all his friends highly pleased. The heap of
dark and tattered figures that lay in the courtyard made noisy
demonstrations of pleasure. They all knew the merchant, Petunikoff, who
passed them very often, contemptuously turning up his eyes and giving
them no more attention than he bestowed on the other heaps of rubbish
lying on the ground. He was well fed, and that exasperated them still
more; and now how splendid it was that one of themselves had struck a
hard blow at the selfish merchant's purse! It gave them all the
greatest pleasure. The Captain's discovery was a powerful instrument
in their hands. Every one of them felt keen animosity towards all
those who were well fed and well dressed, but in some of them this
feeling was only beginning to develop. Burning interest was felt by
those "creatures that once were men" in the prospective fight between
Kuvalda and Petunikoff, which they already saw in imagination.

For a fortnight the inhabitants of the dosshouse awaited the further
development of events, but Petunikoff never once visited the building.
It was known that he was not in town and that the copy of the petition
had not yet been handed to him. Kuvalda raged at the delays of the
civil court. It is improbable that anyone had ever awaited the
merchant with such impatience as did this bare-footed brigade.

"He isn't even thinking of coming, the wretch! ..."

"That means that he does not love me!" sang Deacon Taras, leaning his
chin on his hand and casting a humorous glance towards the mountain.

At last Petunikoff appeared. He came in a respectable cart with his
son playing the role of groom. The latter was a red-checked,
n