"Learn ... It is not that, my dear sir; but don't you see there is no freedom? Don't you see what a life I lead? I live in fear and trembling ... I am refused the freedom so desirable to me in my movements, and I fear this ghost of a teacher will write about me in the papers. Sanitary inspectors will be called for ... fines will have to be paid ... or else your lodgers will set fire to the place or rob and kill me ... I am powerless against them. They are not the least afraid of the police, and they like going to prison, because they get their food for nothing there." "But then we will have them turned out if we come to terms with you," promised Petunikoff. "What shall we arrange, then?" asked Vaviloff, sadly and seriously. "Tell me your terms." "Well, give me the six hundred mentioned in the claim." "Won't you take a hundred roubles?" asked the merchant, calmly, looking attentively at his companion, and smiling softly. "I will not give you one rouble more," ... he added. After this, he took out his eye-glasses, and began cleaning them with his handkerchief. Vaviloff looked at him sadly and respectfully. The calm face of Petunikoff, his grey eyes and clear complexion, every line of his thickset body betokened self-confidence and a well-balanced mind. Vaviloff also liked Petunikoff's straightforward manner of addressing him without any pretensions, as if he were his own brother, though Vaviloff understood well enough that he was his superior, he being only a soldier. Looking at him, he grew fonder and fonder of him, and, forgetting for a moment the matter in hand, respectfully asked Petunikoff: "Where did you study?" "In the technological institute. Why?" answered the other, smiling: "Nothing. Only ... excuse me!" The soldier lowered his head, and then suddenly exclaimed, "What a splendid thing education is! Science--light. My brother, I am as stupid as an owl before the sun ... Your honour, let us finish this job." With an air of decision he stretched out his hand to Petunikoff and said: "Well, five hundred?" "Not more than one hundred roubles, Egor Terentievitch." Petunikoff shrugged his shoulders as if sorry at being unable to give more, and touched the soldier's hairy hand with his long white fingers. They soon ended the matter, for the soldier gave in quickly and met Petunikoff's wishes. And when Vaviloff had received the hundred roubles and signed the paper, he threw the pen down on the table and said, bitterly: "Now I will have a nice time! They will laugh at me, they will cry shame on me, the devils!" "But you tell them that I paid all your claim," suggested Petunikoff, calmly puffing out clouds of smoke and watching them float upwards. "But do you think they will believe it? They are as clever swindlers if not worse ..."