As usual, faceless, uncompleted icons were propped against the wall; the glass balls were fixed to the ceiling. It was long since we had had to work with a light, and the balls, not being used, were covered with a gray coating of soot and dust. I remember the surroundings so vividly that if I shut my eyes, I can see in the darkness the whole of that basement room: all the tables, and the jars of paint on the windowsills, the bundles of brushes, the icons, the slop-pail under the brass washstand-basin which looked like a fireman's helmet, and, hanging from the ceiling, Golovev's bare foot, which was blue like the foot of a drowned man. I wanted to get away quickly, but in Russia they love long-drawn-out, sad moments. When they are saying good-by, Russian people behave as if they were hearing a requiem mass. Jikharev, twitching his brows, said to me: "That book--the devil's book--I can't give it back to you. Will you take two _greven_ for it?" The book was my own,--the old second lieutenant of the fire-brigade had given it to me--and I grudged giving Lermontov away. But when, somewhat offended, I refused the money, Jikharev calmly put the coins back in his purse, and said in an unwavering tone: "As you like; but I shall not give you back the book. It is not for you. A book like that would soon lead you into sin." "But it is sold in shops; I have seen it!" But he only said with redoubled determination: "That has nothing to do with the matter; they sell revolvers in shops, too--" So he never returned Lermontov to me. As I was going upstairs to say good-by to my mistress, I ran into her niece in the hall. "Is it true what they say--that you are leaving?" "Yes." "If you had not gone of your own accord, you would have been sent away," she assured me, not very kindly, but with perfect frankness. And the tipsy mistress said: "Good-by, Christ be with you! You are a bad boy, an impudent boy; although I have never seen anything bad in you myself, they all say that you are a bad boy!" And suddenly she burst out crying, and said through her tears: "Ah, if my dead one, my sweet husband, dear soul, had been alive, he would have known how to deal with you; he would have boxed your ears and you would have stayed on. We should not have had to send you away! But nowadays things are different; if all is not exactly as you like, away you go! Och! And where will you be going, boy, and what good will it do you to stroll from place to place?" CHAPTER XVI I was in a boat with my master, passing along the market-place between shops which were flooded to the height of the second story. I plied the oars, while my master sat in the stern. The paddle wheel, which was useless as a rudder, was deep in the water, and the boat veered about awkwardly, meandering from street to street on the quiet, muddily sleepy waters.