"And a very good thing too!" declared Promtov with lively satisfaction. "Such he is and ought to be, and such as he is, and only so, he is indispensable to us all like the very air. For what is the muzhik? The muzhik is for us all the means of nutriment, that is to say, he is an edible creature. Look at me for instance! Would it be possible for me to exist upon this earth but for the muzhik? Four things are indispensable for the existence of man: the sun, water, air, and the muzhik. "And the land?" "Granted the muzhik--and you have the land as well. You have but to command him. Hie, you there! create the land, and there the land will be. He cannot disobey." This merry vagrant loved talking! We had long since passed the village, left behind us many farms, and once more another village stood before us, submerged in the orange foliage of autumn. Promtov chattered on--as merrily as a finch--and I listened to him, and thought about the muzhik and this new kind of parasite, unknown to me before, participating in the illusory prosperity of the muzhik.... When will the muzhik be well repaid for all the evil with which he has been so liberally requited? Here, alongside of me, marched the product of town life--a cynical and sensible vagrant, living on the vital juices of this poor muzhik, a wolf fully conscious of his lupine strength. "Listen now"--a circumstance had suddenly occurred to me--"we meet under conditions which induce me strongly to doubt the efficacy of your bit of paper--how do you explain it?" "Aye, aye!" laughed Promtov, "very simply. I had already passed through that place, and it is not always convenient to bring yourself back to people's recollection as you know." His candour pleased me. Candour is always a good quality, and it is a great pity that it is so rarely to be met with among respectable people. And I listened attentively to the random chatter of my comrade, trying to make up my mind whether the picture he drew of himself was the real one. "Here is a village in front of us! If you like I will show you the power of my bit of paper--what do you say?" proposed Promtov. I objected to the experiment, proposing instead that he should tell me how he had really earned this piece of paper. "Well, that is a long, long story," said he, waving his hand. "But I'll tell you--one day. Meantime let us rest and have a snack. We have an ample store of food, which means that it is not necessary at present to go into the village and trouble our neighbour." Quitting the road, we sat down on the ground and began to eat. Then, made lazy by the warm beams of the sun and the breath of the soft wind of the steppe, we lay down and slept.... When we awoke, the sun purple and large was already on the horizon, and on the steppe the mists of the southern evening were encamping. "Now you shall see," declared Promtov. "Fate is content that we should pass the night in that little village." "Let us go while there is still light," I proposed.