The dark man's clothing was still richer: a silk beshmet of blue silk, embroidered with gold lace. In his belt, a great silver dagger; handsome morocco slippers embroidered with silver, and over the fine slippers he wore a larger pair of stout ones. His cap was tall, of white lamb's wool. The red Tatar came in, muttered something, gave vent to some abusive language, and then stood leaning against the wall, fingering his dagger, and scowling under his brows at Zhilin, like a wolf. But the dark Tatar, nervous and active, and always on the go, as though he were made of springs, came straight up to Zhilin, squatted down on his heels, showed his teeth, tapped him on the shoulder, began to gabble something in his own language, winked his eyes, and, clucking his tongue, kept saying, "A fine Russ, a fine Russ!"[99] [Footnote 99: _Urus_ in Tatar.] Zhilin did not understand him, and said, "Drink; give me some water." The dark one grinned. "A fine Russ!" and all the time he kept babbling. Zhilin signified by his hands and lips that they should give him water. The dark one understood, grinned, put his head out of the door, and cried, "Dina!" A young girl came running in,--a slender, lean creature of thirteen, with a face like the dark man's. Evidently she was his daughter. She was dressed in a long blue shirt with wide sleeves and without a belt. On the bottom, on the breast, and on the cuffs it was relieved with red trimmings. She wore on her legs pantalettes and slippers, and over the slippers another pair with high heels. On her neck was a necklace wholly composed of half-ruble pieces. Her head was uncovered; she had her hair in a black braid, and on the braid was a ribbon, and to the ribbon were attached various ornaments and a silver ruble. Her father gave her some command. She ran out, and quickly returned, bringing a little tin pitcher. After she had handed him the water, she also squatted on her heels in such a way that her knees were higher than her shoulders. She sits that way, and opens her eyes, and stares at Zhilin while he drinks, as though he were some wild beast. Zhilin offered to return the pitcher to her. She darted away like a wild goat. Even her father laughed. He sent her after something else. She took the pitcher, ran out, and brought back some unleavened bread on a small round board, and again squatted down, and stared without taking her eyes from him. The Tatars went out, and again bolted the door. After a while the Nogáï also comes to Zhilin, and says, "_Aï-da, khozyáïn, aï-da!_" But he does not know Russian either. Zhilin, however, perceived that he wished him to go somewhere. Zhilin hobbled out with his clog; it was impossible to walk, so he had to drag one leg. The Nogáï led the way for him. He sees before him a Tatar village, of half a score of houses, and the native mosque with its minaret.