They spread some old clothes on the ground, setting the delicacies and the drink on them, and sat around the feast, solemnly and quietly, but almost unable to control the craving for drink that was shining in their eyes. The evening began to fall, and its shadows were cast on the human refuse of the earth in the courtyard of the dosshouse; the last rays of the sun illumined the roof of the tumble-down building. The night was cold and silent. "Let us begin, brothers!" commanded the Captain. "How many cups have we? Six . . . and there are thirty of us! Aleksei Maksimovitch, pour it out. Is it ready? Now then, the first toast . . . Come along!" They drank and shouted, and began to eat. "The teacher is not here . . . I have not seen him for three days. Has anyone seen him?" asked Kuvalda. "No one." "It is unlike . . . Let us drink to the health of Aristid Kuvalda . . . the only friend who has never deserted me for one moment of my life! Devil take him all the same! I might have had something to wear had he left my society at least for a little while." "You are bitter . . ." said Abyedok, and coughed. The Captain, with his feeling of superiority to the others, never talked with his mouth full. Having drunk twice, the company began to grow merry; the food was grateful to them. Paltara Taras expressed his desire to hear a tale, but the Deacon was arguing with Kubaroff over his preferring thin women to stout ones, and paid no attention to his friend's request. He was asserting his views on the subject to Kubaroff with all the decision of a man who was deeply convinced in his own mind. The foolish face of Meteor, who was lying on the ground, showed that he was drinking in the Deacon's strong words. Martyanoff sat, clasping his large hairy hands round his knees, looking silently and sadly at the bottle of vodki and pulling his moustache as if trying to bite it with his teeth, while Abyedok was teasing Tyapa. "I have seen you watching the place where your money is hidden!" "That is your luck," shouted Tyapa. "I will go halves with you, brother." "All right, take it and welcome." Kuvalda felt angry with these men. Among them all there was not one worthy of hearing his oratory or of understanding him. "I wonder where the teacher is?" he asked loudly. Martyanoff looked at him and said, "He will come soon.. . ." "I am positive that he will come, but he won't come in a carriage. Let us drink to your future health. If you kill any rich man go halves with me . . . then I shall go to America, brother. To those . . . what do you call them? Limpas? Pampas?