They say that he's utterly worthless, that his uncle got him a court job,
but he won't stay with it. He was gone a whole week, they say, somewhere or
other about three miles down the highroad, near the tavern, fishing. Yes,
and that he is a drunkard beyond his years. But whose business is it? He
must be worthy of it, since you ask it.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. I've never heard that. I've never seen him drunk; but I
spoke to the chief of police on his behalf, because he's my godson. I take
his mother's place.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. I know, benefactress, I know; every one knows that
if you take a notion, you, my benefactress, can make a man out of mud; but
if you don't take a notion to do so, he'll fall into insignificance no
matter how brainy he may be. He's to blame himself, because he didn't
deserve it!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. I'm sure I never did any one any harm.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Harm? You, who because of your angelic heart
wouldn't hurt even a fly! Of course all we mortals are not without sins;
you have done many things; you can't please everybody. Indeed, to tell the
truth, my dear benefactress, there are people enough who complain about
you.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Who complains about me? What a lie!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. It's impossible for you to know everything, dear
benefactress. And it's not worth while for you, in your gentility, to
trouble yourself about every low-lived person. And though they do complain,
what's the use of paying attention; are they worth your notice? Since you