The old man rose and held out his hand. Olénin pressed it and turned to go. “Give us your mug, your mug!” And the old man took Olénin by the head with both hands and kissed him three times with wet moustaches and lips, and began to cry. “I love you, good-bye!” Olénin got into the cart. “Well, is that how you’re going? You might give me something for a remembrance. Give me a gun! What do you want two for?” said the old man, sobbing quite sincerely. Olénin got out a musket and gave it to him. “What a lot you’ve given the old fellow,” murmured Vanyúsha, “he’ll never have enough! A regular old beggar. They are all such irregular people,” he remarked, as he wrapped himself in his overcoat and took his seat on the box. “Hold your tongue, swine!” exclaimed the old man, laughing. “What a stingy fellow!” Maryánka came out of the cowshed, glanced indifferently at the cart, bowed and went towards the hut. “_La fille!_” said Vanyúsha, with a wink, and burst out into a silly laugh. “Drive on!” shouted Olénin, angrily. “Good-bye, my lad! Good-bye. I won’t forget you!” shouted Eróshka. Olénin turned round. Daddy Eróshka was talking to Maryánka, evidently about his own affairs, and neither the old man nor the girl looked at Olénin.