"I'm different from the rest," answered Perfishka, with philosophical calm. "I think this way: keep quiet!--Fate gives what it will, and if a man is hollow and empty, so that nothing can be put in him, then, what can Fate do? Once, I admit, I wanted things, while my dead one was alive--I knew of Jeremy's pile. I'd have liked to have a fist in that. 'If I don't rob him,' I thought, 'some one else will.' Well, thank God, two others actually got in before me. I don't complain, but then I understood that one must learn, too, how to wish." The cobbler laughed, climbed down from the stove, and added: "Now give me the five kopecks. My inside's on fire. I can't stand it any more." "There! Have your glass," said Ilya. Then he looked at Perfishka with a smile, and asked: "Shall I tell you something?" "Well, what?" "You're a humbug, and a good-for-nothing, and a miserable drunkard. That's all certain." "Yes, it's certain," confessed the cobbler, standing before Ilya with the five-kopeck piece in his hand. "And yet," Ilya went on seriously and thoughtfully, "I don't believe I know a better man than you, by God, I don't." Perfishka smiled incredulously, and looked at Lunev's serious but friendly face. "You're joking?" "Believe it or not, it is so. I don't say it to praise you, but only because, so far as I can see, that's my opinion." "Wonderful! my head's too stupid I'm afraid; did I understand you to say----But let me have a mouthful, perhaps then I'll be cleverer." "Not so fast!" said Ilya, and caught him by the shirt sleeve. "I want to ask you one thing--do you fear God?" Perfishka shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and said in a voice that sounded a little hurt: "I have no reason to fear God. I do no harm to anyone--never have." "And now, do you pray?" "Oh, I pray, of course--not often." Ilya saw that the cobbler had no desire to talk, and that his whole soul was longing for the tap room. "There you are, Perfishka--ten more!" "My word! that's what I call treating!" cried Perfishka and beamed with joy. "But tell me, how do you pray?" Lunev pressed him again. "I? Quite simply. I don't know any prayers. I knew 'the Virgin Mother of God' once, but I forgot it long ago. There's a beggar's prayer: 'O Lord Jesus,' and so on, I know that by heart right to the end. Perhaps when I'm old I'll use it. But now I just pray in my own way. 'Lord have mercy,' I say." Perfishka looked at the ceiling, nodded with conviction, and went on. "He'll understand up there. Can I go now? I've an awful thirst." "Go on--go on," said Ilya, and looked at Perfishka thoughtfully. "But see here, when the day comes, when the Lord asks you, How have you lived?" "Then I'll say, 'when I was born I was small, and when I died I was dead drunk. So I don't know.' Then He'll laugh and forgive me." The cobbler smiled pleasantly and hurried away.