The lad listened to Chelkash at first with wide-open mouth, with puzzled rapture writ large on his rotund physiognomy; but, presently, understanding that this ragamuffin was joking, he closed his lips with a snap and laughed aloud. Chelkash preserved a serious countenance, concealing his smile in his moustaches. "Rum card that you are! you spoke as if it were true, and I listened and believed you. Now, God knows, formerly...." "But I count for something, don't I? I tell you that formerly...." "Go along!" said the lad, waving his hand. "I suppose you're a cobbler?--or are you a tailor? _What_ are you?" "What am I?" repeated Chelkash, reflecting a little--"I'm a fisherman!" he said at last. "A fisherman! really?--you really catch fish?" "Why fish? The fishermen here don't only catch fish. There's more than that. There are drowned corpses, old anchors, sunken ships--everything! There are hooks for fishing up all sorts...." "Nonsense, nonsense! I suppose you mean the sort of fishermen who sang of themselves: "'Our nets we cast forth abroad On the river bank so high, And in storehouse and grain loft so high....'" "And you have seen such like, eh?" inquired Chelkash, looking at him with a smile and thinking to himself that this fine young chap was really very stupid. "No, where could I see them? But I've heard of them...." "Like the life, eh?" "Like their life? Well, how shall I put it?--they are not bothered with kids ... they live as they like ... they are free...." "What do you know about freedom? Do you love it?" "Why of course. To be your own master ... to go where you like ... to do what you like. Still more, if you know how to keep straight, and have no stone about your neck ... then it's splendid! You may enjoy yourself as you like, if only you don't forget God...." Chelkash spat contemptuously, ceased from questioning, and turned away from the youth.