"Splendid!" cry the people, approving the orator's deduction, and Tyapa bellows all the time, scratching his breast. He always bellows like this as he drinks his first glass of vodki, when he has a drunken headache. The Captain beams with joy. They next read the correspondence. This is, for the Captain, "an abundance of drinks," as he himself calls it. He always notices how the merchants make this life abominable, and how cleverly they spoil everything. His speeches thunder at and annihilate merchants. His audience listens to him with the greatest pleasure, because he swears atrociously. "If I wrote for the papers," he shouts, "I would show up the merchant in his true colours ... I would show that he is a beast, playing for a time the role of a man. I understand him! He is a rough boor, does not know the meaning of the words 'good taste,' has no notion of patriotism, and his knowledge is not worth five kopecks." Abyedok, knowing the Captain's weak point, and fond of making other people angry, cunningly adds: "Yes, since the nobility began to make acquaintance with hunger, men have disappeared from the world ..." "You are right, you son of a spider and a toad. Yes, from the time that the noblemen fell, there have been no men. There are only merchants, and I hate them." "That is easy to understand, brother, because you, too, have been brought down by them ..." "I? I was ruined by love of life ... Fool that I was, I loved life, but the merchant spoils it, and I cannot bear it, simply for this reason, and not because I am a nobleman. But if you want to know the truth, I was once a man, though I was not noble. I care now for nothing and nobody ... and all my life has been tame--a sweetheart who has jilted me--therefore I despise life, and am indifferent to it." "You lie!" says Abyedok. "I lie?" roars Aristid Kuvalda, almost crimson with anger. "Why shout?" comes in the cold sad voice of Martyanoff. "Why judge others? Merchants, noblemen ... what have we to do with them?" "Seeing that we are" ... puts in Deacon Taras. "Be quiet, Abyedok," says the teacher, goodnaturedly. "Why do you provoke him?" He does not love either discussion or noise, and when they quarrel all around him his lips form into a sickly grimace, and he endeavours quietly and reasonably to reconcile each with the other, and if he does not succeed in this he leaves the company. Knowing this, the Captain, if he is not very drunk, controls himself, not wishing to lose, in the person of the teacher, one of the best of his listeners. "I repeat," he continues, in a quieter tone, "that I see life in the hands of enemies, not only enemies of the noble but of everything good, avaricious and incapable of adorning existence in any way." "But all the same," says the teacher, "merchants, so to speak, created Genoa, Venice, Holland--and all these were merchants, merchants from England, India, the Stroyanoff merchants ..."