"Nothing." "Why should anything come of it?" "Yet it's a good remedy?" "Yes, it's a good remedy." "I'll try it. Thanks!" "To your good health!" said Promtov perfectly seriously. There was a long silence amidst the crunching of the water-melons and the whispering of the children. "Hark ye," began the owner of the hut, "maybe you have heard all about it at Moscow--I mean about Siberia--is it possible to settle there or not? Our district magistrate said--but no doubt he lies--that it is quite impossible!" "Impossible!" observed Promtov with an air of astonishment. The _khokhli_ glanced at each other, and the master of the house murmured in his beard: "May a toad crawl into his stomach!" "Impossible!" repeated Promtov, and suddenly his face glowed with enthusiasm; "it is impossible, but why go to Siberia at all when there is so much land everywhere--as much as you please?" "Well, truly there's enough for the dead and to spare--but it is the living who stand in need of it," remarked one of the _khokhli_ sadly. "In Petersburg it has been decided," continued Promtov triumphantly, "to take all the land belonging to the gentry and the peasantry and make crown property of it." The _khokhli_ looked at him with wild wide-open eyes and were silent Promtov regarded them severely and asked: "Yes, make crown property of it--and do you know why?" The silence assumed an intense character, and the poor _khokhli,_ apparently, were almost bursting with anxiety and expectation. I looked at them, and was scarce able to restrain the anger excited in me by the practical joke which Promtov was thus malting at the poor creatures' expense. But to have betrayed his audacious falsehood to them would have meant a whacking for him, so I held my peace, overwhelmed by this foolish dilemma. "Speak out, good man, and tell us!" asked one of the _khokhli_ quietly and timidly, with a stifled voice. "They are going to take away the land in order to redistribute it more fairly among the peasants. It has been decided there"--here Promtov waved his hand vaguely to one side--"that the true owner of the land is the peasant, and so it has been ordered that there shall be no emigration to Siberia, but people are to wait till the land is divided...." One of the _khokhli_ let his slice of melon fall out of his mouth in his excitement. All of them looked intently at Promtov's mouth with greedy eyes and were silent, being much impressed by the strange intelligence. And then--a few seconds afterwards--four expressions were heard almost simultaneously: "Most holy mother!"--from the woman almost hysterically. "But ... maybe you are lying!" "Nay, but tell us more, good man!" "Ah, that's why we have had such bright dawns and sunsets!" exclaimed the _khokhol_ whose backbone had ached, with conviction. "It is only a rumour," said I. "No doubt all this sounds very much like falsehood...." Promtov regarded me with genuine amazement and exclaimed fiercely: