Chapter 28 - Page 2

shwine!--Don't want them!--Have come to you.'

'And where did you get your balalayka asked Olenin, still writing.

'I've been beyond the river and got it there, brother mine,' he
answered, also very quietly. 'I'm a master at it. Tartar or
Cossack, squire or soldiers' songs, any kind you please.'

Olenin looked at him again, smiled, and went on writing.

That smile emboldened the old man.

'Come, leave off, my lad, leave off!' he said with sudden
firmness.

'Well, perhaps I will.'

'Come, people have injured you but leave them alone, spit at them!
Come, what's the use of writing and writing, what's the good?'

And he tried to mimic Olenin by tapping the floor with his thick
fingers, and then twisted his big face to express contempt.

'What's the good of writing quibbles. Better have a spree and show
you're a man!'

No other conception of writing found place in his head except that
of legal chicanery.

Olenin burst out laughing and so did Eroshka. Then, jumping up
from the floor, the latter began to show off his skill on the
balalayka and to sing Tartar songs.

'Why write, my good fellow! You'd better listen to what I'll sing
to you. When you're dead you won't hear any more songs. Make merry
now!'

First he sang a song of his own composing accompanied by a dance:

'Ah, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, Say where did they last see
him? In a booth, at the fair, He was selling pins, there.'

Then he sang a song he had learnt from his former sergeant-major:

'Deep I fell in love on Monday, Tuesday nothing did but sigh,
Wednesday I popped the question, Thursday waited her reply.
Friday, late, it came at last, Then all hope for me was past!
Saturday my life to take I determined like a man, But for my
salvation's sake Sunday morning changed my plan!'

Then he sang again:

'Oh dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, Say where did they last see
him?'

And after that, winking, twitching his shoulders, and footing it
to the tune, he sang:

'I will kiss you and embrace, Ribbons red twine round you; And
I'll call you little Grace. Oh, you little Grace now do Tell me,
do you love me true?'

And he became so excited that with a sudden dashing movement he
started dancing around the room accompanying himself the while.

Songs like 'Dee, dee, dee'--'gentlemen's songs'--he sang for
Olenin's benefit, but after drinking three more tumblers of
chikhir he remembered old times and began singing real Cossack and
Tartar songs. In the midst of one of his favourite songs his voice
suddenly trembled and he ceased singing, and only continued
strumming on the balalayka.

'Oh, my dear friend!' he said.

The