"It can't be allowed, young man, it can't be allowed under any consideration," said Bogdanov shaking his head stiffly. "But please, Sergey Potapitch, a schoolmaster without a badge is like the British lion without a tail," protested Machigin. "He's only a caricature." "What's a tail got to do with it, eh? Why drag in the tail, eh?" said Bogdanov excitedly. "Why are you mixing it up with politics, eh? What business is it of yours to discuss politics, eh? No, young man, you'd better dispense with the badge. For Heaven's sake, give it up. No, it's impossible. How could it be possible. God preserve us, we can't tell who might find it out!" Machigin shrugged his shoulders and was about to say something else, but Bogdanov interrupted him--what Bogdanov considered a brilliant idea flashed into his head. "But you came to me without the badge, without the badge, eh? You yourself feel that it's not the right thing to do." Machigin was nonplussed for a moment, but found an answer even to this: "As we are rural schoolmasters we need this privilege in the country, but in town we are known to belong to the intellectual classes." "No, young man, you know very well that this is not allowed. And if I hear of it again we shall have to get rid of you." * * * * * From time to time Grushina arranged evening parties for young people, from among whom she hoped to find another husband. To conceal her purpose she also invited married people. The guests came early to one of these parties. Pictures covered in thick muslin hung on the walls of Grushina's drawing-room. There was really nothing indecent in them. When Grushina, with an arch, wanton smile, raised these curtains, the guests gazed at badly-drawn figures of naked women. "Why is this woman so crooked?" asked Peredonov morosely. "She's not crooked at all," Grushina defended the picture warmly. "She's only bending over." "She is crooked," repeated Peredonov, "and her eyes are not the same--like yours." "Much you understand about it," said Grushina offendedly. "These pictures are very good and very expensive. Artists always prefer such models." Peredonov suddenly burst out laughing: he recalled the advice he had given Vladya a few days ago. "What are you neighing at?" asked Grushina. "Nartanovitch, the schoolboy, is going to singe Marta's dress. I advised him to," he explained. "Let him just do it! He's not such a fool," said Grushina. "Of course he'll do it," said Peredonov confidently. "Brothers always quarrel with their sisters. When I was a kid I always played tricks on my sisters--I pummelled the little ones and I used to spoil the older ones' clothes." "Everyone doesn't," said Routilov. "I don't quarrel with my sisters." "Well, what do you do? Kiss them?" asked Peredonov. "You are a swine and a scoundrel, Ardalyon Borisitch, I'll give you a black eye," said Routilov calmly. "I don't like such jokes," said Peredonov, and moved away from Routilov.