The silence was, however, of short duration. A pleasanter topic had been started, and the conversation grew lively. “I don’t quite understand—allow me to ask, do hens have souls?” slowly and deliberately inquired one of the silhouettes, with the evident intention of starting a long discussion. “Kindly explain to me on what you base that opinion. A soul is bound to be Christian; and there is surely nothing said in the Holy Scriptures about hens’ and fishes’ souls.”... “I grant you there is really nothing about it in the Scriptures; but I, you see me, Selivèrstov, poultry-farmer—_I_ tell you—yes! You can believe me or not, as you like, but I assure you that when I get to really understand the affairs of fishes, and especially of poultry, then I began to believe in the Almighty Creator. Up till then I was just a dead log! You can think what you like. Yes!...” There was great animation in the tone of the poultry-farmer’s voice, but it was evident that the immensity of the theme which so deeply interested him rendered his position embarrassing and perplexed him in speaking. “Yes,” he continued, repeating the words he had already said, “it was through the poultry that I grew to recognise the wisdom of God. You must make what you can of that.” There was a short silence. “And do poultry have souls?” inquired one of the silhouettes, in a tone of evident irony. The poultry-farmer hesitated a moment, then, as it were, gave himself a little shake, plucked up his courage, and growled, in a deep bass— “They do!” “What! Hens have souls?” “Yes, sir.” This answer was evidently given in blind recklessness, and the poultry-farmer, seeing that he could no longer draw back, continued loudly and rapidly— “I tell you, positively, I would swear it before the Lord Himself—fowls do have souls, may I die to-night if they don’t! There!” Silence. “They do!” cried the poultry-farmer again. Once more there was silence. “Yes! They do, indeed they do!” “There! there! friend.... It strikes me, my man, that you ... you know....” “Not, ‘you know,’ at all! What’s the use of ‘you know’? It’s the truth I’m telling you; not ‘you know.’ ... Now I’ll just catechise you, and you see if you can answer me.” “Why shouldn’t I be able to answer you? If you talk like a human being, I’ll answer you like a human being.” “You didn’t suppose I was going to bark at you?” “Well, if you don’t bark, I won’t cry: ‘cock-a-doodle-doo!’... Fire away!” “Very well, then; if you can answer me, I’ll put questions to you.... First of all: we were just talking about the destroying of souls.... Now, tell me, why did the publican throw himself under the train?” “’Twas the devil’s doing, and nothing else,” again interposed the decided voice from the group of silhouettes, before the person addressed had time to answer.