_Zhev._ Not one. And mind, I am not speaking of the nobles, and what they call the Signors—those are their officers, you know—but just pick out any common peasant that brings loads on his head, and try him; just say: “Dai, bràtetz, khlyeba,”[6] he won’t understand—I assure you he won’t understand. But if you say in French: “Dateci del pane,” or “Portate vino,” he’ll understand you, and he’ll run and bring it at once. _Yaìch._ This same Sicily must be a very interesting country, I think. You were talking about the peasants. What are they like? Do they have broad shoulders, and plough the land like our Russian peasants? _Zhev._ That I can’t tell you; I didn’t notice whether they ploughed or not. But about the question of taking snuff, I can inform you that they not only smell snuff, but even put it in their mouths. The carriage of goods is very cheap there, too; you see there’s water everywhere, and gondolas ... and in the gondola there’ll sit a sweet little rosebud of an Italian girl, beautifully dressed, with the daintiest little kerchief and camisole.... There were some English officers with us—sailors like ourselves.... It seemed so strange at first; we couldn’t understand each other. But after a bit, when we got to know each other well, we began to understand all right. You just point to a bottle or a glass, you know, and the Englishman knows at once that that means “Drink;” then you put your fist up to your mouth, and just do so with your lips—“Puff, puff,” and he knows you mean “Smoke a pipe.” Indeed, I assure you, it’s rather an easy language; the crews got to understand each other in about three days. _Yaìch._ Life must be very interesting in foreign parts. It is a great pleasure to me to become acquainted with a travelled gentleman. Allow me to ask whom I have the honour of addressing? _Zhev._ Zhevàkin, retired lieutenant. Permit me, on my side, to ask with whom I have the pleasure to converse. _Yaìch._ Ivàn Pàvlovich Yaìchnitza, government usher. _Zhev._ (_not hearing well_). Thank you, I have already lunched. It’s cold weather, and I knew I had a long walk before me, so I had a marinated herring. _Yaìch._ You have not quite understood me, I think; I said my name is Yaìchnitza. _Zhev._ (_bows_). Oh! I beg your pardon; I am a little hard of hearing. I ... really ... understood you to say ... that you had lunched on an omelette. _Yaìch._ Yes; it’s very unfortunate. I thought of asking the General to allow me to change my name to Yaìchnitzyn; but my friends dissuaded me; they said it would sound like Sobachi Syn.[7]