It seemed clear to Peredonov that the Princess was dissatisfied with him. Why couldn't she have sent him for his wedding an ikon or cake. He thought: Oughtn't he to earn her favour? But how? By falsehood? Should he slander someone, calumniate someone, inform against someone? He knew that all women love tittle-tattle--and so couldn't he invent something, something pleasant and _risqué_ about Varvara and write it to the Princess? She would laugh and give him the place. But Peredonov was not able to write the letter, and felt apprehensive about writing to a Princess. And later he forgot all about this scheme. Peredonov gave ordinary visitors vodka and the cheapest port-wine. But he bought a three-rouble bottle of Madeira for the Head-Master. He considered this wine extremely expensive, kept it in his bedroom and showed it to his visitors, saying: "It's for the Head-Master!" Routilov and Volodin were once sitting at Peredonov's. Peredonov showed them the Madeira. "What's the good of looking at the outside, it doesn't taste well," said Routilov with a snigger, "you might treat us to some of your expensive Madeira." "What an idea!" exclaimed Peredonov angrily. "What should I give the Head-Master?" "The Head-Master could drink a glass of vodka," said Routilov. "Head-Masters don't drink vodka, they have to drink Madeira," said Peredonov reasonably. "But suppose he likes vodka?" persisted Routilov. "Good heavens! You don't suppose a general would like vodka!" said Peredonov with conviction. "All the same you'd better give us some of it," insisted Routilov. But Peredonov quickly took away the bottle and they heard the click of the lock on the little cupboard in which he kept the wine. When he came back to his guests he began to talk about the Princess to change the conversation. He said quite gravely: "The Princess! Why she sold rotten apples in the market and managed to get hold of a Prince." Routilov burst out laughing and shouted: "Do Princes walk about markets?" "Oh, she knew how to entice him in," said Peredonov. "You're making it up, Ardalyon Borisitch, it's a cock-and-bull story," argued Routilov. "The Princess is a born lady." Peredonov looked at him malignantly and thought: "He's defending her. That means he's siding with the Princess. It's clear that she's bewitched him although she lives at a distance." And the nedotikomka wriggled about him, laughed noiselessly and shook all over with laughter. It reminded Peredonov of various dreadful circumstances. He looked around timidly and whispered: "In every town there's a sergeant of the gendarmes in the secret service. He wears civilian clothes, sometimes he's in the civil service, sometimes he's a tradesman, or he does something else, but at night when everyone is asleep he puts on his blue uniform and suddenly becomes a sergeant of the gendarmes." "But why the uniform?" inquired Volodin reasonably.