“Look at this fellow! He has found his master,” he said, stammering out the words with a voice strangled by weakness, for he had now not long to live. Tchekounoff, much annoyed, turned round. “Who is the fellow?” he asked, looking at Usteantseff, with contempt. “Why, you are a flunkey,” replied Usteantseff, as confidently as if he had possessed the right of calling Tchekounoff to order. “I a fellow?” “Yes, you are a flunkey; a true flunkey. Listen, my good friends. He won’t believe me. He is quite astonished, the brave fellow.” “What can that matter to you? You see when they don’t know how to make use of their hands that they are not accustomed to be without servants. Why should I not serve him, buffoon with a hairy snout?” “Who has a hairy snout?” “You!” “I have a hairy snout?” “Yes; certainly you have.” “You are a nice fellow, you are. If I have a hairy snout, you have a face like a crow’s egg.” “Hairy snout! The merciful Lord has settled your account. You would do much better to keep quiet and die.” “Why? I would rather prostrate myself before a boot than before a slipper. My father never prostrated himself, and never made me do so.” He would have continued, but an attack of coughing convulsed him for some minutes. He spat blood, and a cold sweat broke out on his low forehead. If his cough had not prevented him from speaking, he would have continued to declaim. One could see that from his look; but in his powerlessness he could only move his hand, the result of which was that Tchekounoff spoke no more about the matter. I quite understood that the consumptive patient hated me much more than Tchekounoff. No one would have thought of being angry with him or of looking down upon him by reason of the services he was rendering me, and the few kopecks that he tried to get from me. Every one understood that he did it all in order to get himself a little money. The Russian people are not at all susceptible on such points, and know perfectly well how to take them. I had displeased Usteantseff, as my tea had also displeased him. What irritated him was that, in spite of all, I was a gentleman, even with my chains; that I could not do without a servant, though I neither asked for nor desired one. In reality I tried to do everything for myself, in order not to appear a white-handed, effeminate person, and not to play the part which excited so much envy. I even felt a little pride on this point; but, in spite of every thing--I do not know why--I was always surrounded by officious, complaisant people, who attached themselves to me of their own free will, and who ended by governing me. It was I rather who was their servant; so that, whether I liked it or not, I was made to appear to every one a noble, who could not do without the services of others, and who gave himself airs. This exasperated me.