"You think too much.... That's what's the matter!" said Sereja in a convinced tone of voice, tossing away his cigarette. "And when one thinks, one becomes disgusted with life.... One must be always moving, always in the midst of people ... who must be made to feel that one is really alive. One must knock life about, or it will become mouldy. Move about in life, here and there, as long as you are able, and then you won't be bored." Malva grew gay. "It's perhaps true what you say. Sometimes I think that if one set fire one night to one of the huts ... that might make things lively!" "That's a capital idea!" cried the other one, tapping her on the shoulder. "Do you know what I would advise you ... we might have some fun together if you would like?" "What is it?" asked Malva, interested. "Have you warmed up Jakoff well?" "He bums like a clear fire," she said delighted. "Is it possible? Set him on to his father. Wouldn't it be a queer sight?... They would go for each other like two bears ... Warm the old fellow up a little, and this other one still more ... and then we will set them on each other." Malva looked hard into his freckled face, as he smiled gaily. Lighted up by the moon it seemed less ugly than by daylight It expressed neither hatred nor anything but good humour and vivacity, in the expectation of a reply. "Why do you hate them?" Malva asked suspiciously. "I? Vassili is a good sort of fellow for a peasant. But Jakoff is not worth anything. Generally speaking, you see, I don't like peasants; they are all knaves. They know how to pretend to be unfortunate, get bread and everything given to them. And all the time they have a municipality which looks after them. They have land and cattle. I was coachman to a municipal doctor--and I saw something of those peasants then! Then for a long time I was a tramp. When I got to a village and asked for bread--'Oh! Oh! Who are you? what are you doing? show your passport!...' I was beaten more than once; sometimes they took me for a horse-thief; sometimes without any reason they put me in prison.... They groan and pretend that they can't live, although they have land of their own. And I, what could I do against them?" "Are you not a peasant?" "I am citizen," replied Sereja with pride. "A citizen of the town of Ouglitch." "And I of Pavlitcha," said Malva dreamily. "I have no one to protect me. But those devils of peasants, they can live well. They have a municipality and everything." "What is a municipality?" asked Malva. "A municipality? Devil take me if I know!... It's something made for peasants; it's their council.... Don't let's talk any more of that. Let's talk of our own business. Will you arrange this matter, tell me? No harm will come of it. They will just knock each other about a little.... I will help you.... Vassili beat you, did he?... Then let his son give you back the blows that you have received." "Why not?" said Malva, smiling. "It wouldn't be a bad thing."