It was hard for Klimkov to believe that Yakov was a Socialist, though at the same time he wanted to believe it. The envy his cousin aroused was transformed again into irritation against him for having put himself in his way. Yevsey now also recalled the blows his cousin had bestowed upon him. In the evening, with eyes turned aside, he informed Piotr of his acquaintance. "Well, what of it?" asked Piotr angrily. "Nothing." "You don't know what you must do? Then what the devil is the use of teaching you fellows?" Piotr hastened off, crumpled, lean, with dark stains under his eyes. "Evidently lost again at cards," thought Yevsey gloomily. CHAPTER XX The next day Sasha learned of Yevsey's success. He questioned him in detail. After reflecting awhile he smiled his putrid smile, and gave Klimkov instructions. "Wait a little. Then you'll tell him in a careful way that you have gotten a position as clerk in a printing office, do you hear? Ask as few questions as possible, let them speak for themselves. Very likely they'll ask you whether you can't get them type. Tell them you can, but learn to say it simply, so that they should see it's all the same to you whether you get it or don't get it. Don't ask what for, behave like a little fool, as you actually are. Only I want you to know that if you botch this matter, it will be bad for you. After every meeting report to me what you have heard." In intercourse with Sasha Yevsey felt like a little dog on a strap. He looked at the spy's pimply yellow face, and thought of nothing but the moment when he would be permitted to depart from the cloud of disgusting odors, which nauseated him and ate into the skin of his face and hands. He went to meet Yakov as empty as a pipe. But when he saw his cousin with a cigarette between his teeth and his hat cocked to one side, he gave him a pleasant smile, while something unpleasant stirred within him. "How's business?" shouted Yakov merrily. "So, so." "Gotten a job?" "Yes." The next instant Yevsey thought, "I said it too soon." "What?" "Clerk in a printing office." Yakov whistled. "Capital! What do you get?" "Twenty-five." "In a printing office? Indeed!" said Yakov thoughtfully, then suddenly became animated. "What do you say--I'll take you to pay a visit this evening. Good company, coz. Two girls, one a milliner, the other a spool girl in a thread factory. There'll be a locksmith there, too, a young fellow. He sings and plays the guitar. Two more, also good people. All people are good, only they have no time to pay attention to themselves." Yakov spoke quickly, and his eyes smiled joyously at everything he saw. He stopped in front of the shop-windows, and examined their contents with the gaze of a man to whom all articles are pleasant, and everything is interesting.