od mercy, Misha!"--I shouted: "Have the fear of God before thine
eyes! How dreadful is thine aspect, in what a condition thou art! And
thou wishest another drink! And to sell such a fine estate for a
song!..."

"I always fear God and remember him," he caught me up.--"And he 's
good--God, I mean.... He'll forgive! And I also am good.... I have never
injured any one in my life as yet. And a drink is good also; and as for
hurting ... it won't hurt anybody, either. And as for my looks, they are
all right.... If thou wishest, uncle, I'll walk a line on the floor. Or
shall I dance a bit?"

"Akh, please drop that!--What occasion is there for dancing? Thou hadst
better sit down."

"I don't mind sitting down.... But why don't you say something about my
greys? Just look at them, they're regular lions! I'm hiring them for the
time being, but I shall certainly buy them together with the coachman.
It is incomparably cheaper to own one's horses. And I did have the
money, but I dropped it last night at faro.--Never mind, I'll retrieve
my fortunes to-morrow. Uncle ... how about that drink?"

I still could not collect myself.--"Good gracious! Misha, how old art
thou? Thou shouldst not be occupying thyself with horses, or with
gambling ... thou shouldst enter the university or the service."

Misha first roared with laughter again, then he emitted a prolonged
whistle.

"Well, uncle, I see that thou art in a melancholy frame of mind just
now. I'll call another time.--But see here: just look in at Sokolniki[6]
some evening. I have pitched my tent there. The Gipsies sing.... Well,
well! One can hardly restrain himself! And on the tent there is a
pennant, and on the pennant is written in bi-i-ig letters: 'The Band of
Polteva[7] Gipsies.' The pennant undulates like a serpent; the letters
are gilded; any one can easily read them. The entertainment is whatever
any one likes!... They refuse nothing. It has kicked up a dust all over
Moscow ... my respects.... Well? Will you come? I've got a Gipsy
there--a regular asp! Black as my boot, fierce as a dog, and eyes ...
regular coals of fire! One can't possibly make out whether she is
kissing or biting.... Will you come, uncle?... Well, farewell for the
present!"

And abruptly embracing me and kissing me with a smack on my shoulder,
Misha darted out into the court to his calash, waving his cap over his
head, and uttering a yell; the monstrous coachman[8] bestowed upon him
an oblique glance acr