What an insolent fellow your friend is!’ I said to Punin, directly the door had closed behind me. Almost with horror, Punin turned his plump face to me. ‘To whom did you apply that expression?’ he asked me, with round eyes. ‘Why, to him, of course.... What’s his name? that ... Baburin.’ ‘Paramon Semyonevitch?’ ‘Why, yes; that ... blackfaced fellow.’ ‘Eh ... eh ... eh ...!’ Punin protested, with caressing reproachfulness. ‘How can you talk like that, little master! Paramon Semyonevitch is the most estimable man, of the strictest principles, an extraordinary person! To be sure, he won’t allow any disrespect to him, because--he knows his own value. That man possesses a vast amount of knowledge--and it’s not a place like this he ought to be filling! You must, my dear, behave very courteously to him; do you know, he’s ...’ here Punin bent down quite to my ear,--‘a republican!’ I stared at Punin. This I had not at all expected. From Keidanov’s manual and other historical works I had gathered the fact that at some period or other, in ancient times, there had existed republicans, Greeks and Romans. For some unknown reason I had always pictured them all in helmets, with round shields on their arms, and big bare legs; but that in real life, in the actual present, above all, in Russia, in the province of X----, one could come across republicans--that upset all my notions, and utterly confounded them! ‘Yes, my dear, yes; Paramon Semyonitch is a republican,’ repeated Punin; ‘there, so you’ll know for the future how one should speak of a man like that! But now let’s go into the garden. Fancy what I’ve found there! A cuckoo’s egg in a redstart’s nest! a lovely thing!’ I went into the garden with Punin; but mentally I kept repeating: ‘republican! re ... pub ... lican!’ ‘So,’ I decided at last--‘that’s why he has such a blue chin!’ * * * * *