"I know--every one tries to adorn himself with something, but it's only a mask. I see my uncle try and bargain with God, like the shopman with his master. Your papa gives one or two weathercocks to churches. I conclude from that that he either has swindled some one or is going to; and so they all behave, as far as I can see; there's your penny they say, but give me back five. I read the other day in the paper of Migunov the merchant, who gave three hundred roubles to a hospital, and then petitions the town council to knock off the arrears of his taxes, just a thousand roubles--and so they all do, trying to throw dust in one another's eyes and put themselves in the right. My view is, if you've sinned, willingly or unwillingly, take your punishment!" "You're right there," said Jakov thoughtfully. "What you said of father and the hunchback, that was right too. Ah! we're both born under an evil star. You have your wickedness at any rate, you comfort yourself by judging everybody, but I have not even that. Oh! if only I could go away somewhere, away from here." His speech ended with a cry of distress. "Away from here. Where d'you want to go?" asked Ilya with a faint smile. "It's all the same. I don't know." They sat at the table opposite one another, gloomy and silent, and there lay the big red-brown book with the steel clasp. Suddenly there was a rustling in the passage, a low voice was heard and a hand fumbled at the door for the latch. The friends waited in silence. The door opened slowly, and Perfishka staggered in: he stumbled on the threshold and fell on his knees, holding up his harmonica. "Prr,"--he said, and laughed drunkenly. Immediately behind him Matiza crept into the room. She bent over the cobbler, took his arm and tried to lift him up, saying with stammering tongue: "Ah! How drunk he is! Oh, you soaker!" "Don't touch me, jade! I'll stand alone, quite alone." He swayed hither and thither, but got on his legs with difficulty, and came up to the two friends: he stretched out his left hand and cried: "Welcome to my house!" Matiza laughed, a deep, silly laugh. "Where do you come from?" asked Ilya. Jakov looked at the two with a smile and said nothing. "Where? From the deep sea! Ha! ha! my dear, good boys. Oh! yes!" Perfishka stamped his feet on the floor and sang: "Oh little bones, dear little bones, I weep for you in piteous tones. For hardly are you grown at all Before the shopman cracks you small." "Sing, you jade, sing too," he screamed, turning to Matiza, "or let's sing the song you taught me, go ahead!" He leant his back against the stove, where Matiza had already found support, and dug his elbow into her ribs, while his fingers wandered over the harmonica keys. "Where is Mashutka?" asked Ilya suddenly, in a harsh voice. "Yes, tell us," cried Jakov, and sprang from his chair. "Where is she? Tell us!" But the drunken pair paid no heed to the question. Matiza leant her head to one side and sang: