"So you think he's gone back to the old house, Pavloushka?" he asked. "Undoubtedly, Ardasha," replied Volodin. Peredonov rose and shouted: "Well, we'll have a drink, Pavloushka!" Volodin sniggered. "That's a possibility, Ardasha," he said. "It's always possible to take a drink." "We must get that cat back," decided Peredonov. "A treasure," replied Varvara sarcastically. "I'll send Klavdiushka for it after dinner." They sat down to dinner. Volodin was in a cheerful mood and chattered and laughed a great deal. His laughter sounded to Peredonov like the bleating of the ram he had met in the street. "Why has he got evil intentions against me?" thought Peredonov. "What does he want?" And Peredonov thought that he would get Volodin on his side. "Listen, Pavloushka," he said, "if you'll stop trying to injure me, then I'll buy you a pound of the best sugar-candy every week--you can suck it to my good health." Volodin laughed, but immediately afterwards looked hurt and said: "Ardalyon Borisitch, I have no idea of injuring you, and I don't want your sugar-candy because I don't like it." Peredonov became depressed. Varvara said sneeringly: "You've made a big enough fool of yourself, Ardalyon Borisitch. How can he do you any injury?" "Any fool can do you harm," said Peredonov dejectedly. Volodin thrust out an offended lip, shook his head and said: "If you have such an idea about me, Ardalyon Borisitch, then I can only say one thing: I thank you most humbly. If you think that way about me, what have I to say? What shall I understand by this, in what sense?" "Take a drink, Pavloushka, and pour me one too," said Peredonov. "Don't pay any attention to him, Pavel Vassilyevitch," said Varvara consolingly. "He's only talking, his heart doesn't know what his tongue blabs." Volodin said nothing, and preserving his injured look began to pour the vodka from the decanter into the glasses. Varvara said sarcastically: "How is it, Ardalyon Borisitch, that you're not afraid to drink vodka when he pours it out? Perhaps he's exorcising it--don't you see his lips moving?" Peredonov's face bore an expression of terror. He caught the glass which Volodin had filled and flung the vodka on to the floor, shouting: "Chure me! Chure--chure--chure![2] A spell against the spell-weaver--may the evil tongue die of thirst, may the black eye burst. To him Karachoun [death], to me chure-perechure!" Then he turned to Volodin with a malignant face, snapped his fingers and said: "That's for you. You're cunning, but I'm more cunning." Varvara laughed uproariously. Volodin bleating in an offended, trembling voice said: "It's you, Ardalyon Borisitch, who know and pronounce all sorts of magic words, but I never occupied myself with black magic. I hadn't any idea of bedevilling your vodka or anything else, but it's possible that it's you who've bewitched my brides from me."