"You refer to your brother. But he was not sent by the Commune, but the master sent him because of his good-for-nothingness; so he's no excuse for you." Gerásim had no chance to say another word, for the tall, yellow Feódor Melnitchnui leaning forward began to speak in a gloomy tone:-- "Well, masters send whomever they please; then let the Commune make the best of it. The Commune tells your son to go; and if you don't like it, ask the mistress: she has the right to command me or any of my children to wear the uniform. A fine law!" said he bitterly; and, again waving his hand, took his former place. The red-haired Román, whose son had been drafted, lifted his head, and said, "That's so, that's so," and sat down morosely on the step. But there were many other voices that also joined suddenly in the hubbub. Besides those who stood in the background and talked about their affairs, there were the babblers, who did not forget their duty. "Certainly, O orthodox Commune," said the little Zhidkof, slightly varying Dutlofs words, "it is necessary to decide according to Christianity; according to Christianity, my brethren, it is necessary to decide." "It is necessary to decide on our consciences, my dearly beloved friend," said the good-natured Khrapkof, slightly varying Kopilof's words, and taking hold of Dutlofs sheepskin coat; "it is according to the will of our lady, and not the decision of the Commune." "Indeed, how is that?" exclaimed several. "What's that drunken fellow barking about?" retorted Rézun. "Did you get me drunk, or was it your son whom they have found rolling round in the road, and does he dare to fling at me about drink? I tell you, brethren, we must act more wisely. If you want to let Dutlof off, though he is not of those who have two grown men, then name some one who has only one son; but he will laugh at us." "Let Dutlof go. What's to be said?" "Of course. We must cast lots for the men of large family[9] first," said several voices. "Just as the mistress commands. Yégor Mikháiluitch said she wanted to send one of the household servants," said some one's voice. This observation raised a great hubbub; but it quickly subsided, and single individuals again got the floor. Ignat, who, according to Rerun's remark, had been found drunk in the street, began to accuse Rézun of having stolen a saw of some passing carpenter, and of having beaten his wife almost to death during a drunken spree. Rézun replied that he beat his wife when he was sober as well as when he was drunk, and very little anyway; and this made every one laugh. Referring to the saw he suddenly lost his temper, and pressing nearer to Ignat began to question him:-- "Who was it stole the saw?" "You did," replied the strong Ignat, boldly advancing still nearer to him. "Who stole it? Wasn't it yourself?" "No, you!" screamed Ignat.