day, to the tavern; in old days he had come to see Yakov Ivanitch,
now he came to see Matvey. He was continually reckoning on the
beads, while his face perspired and looked strained, or he would
ask for money or, stroking his whiskers, would describe how he had
once been in a first-class station and used to prepare champagne-punch
for officers, and at grand dinners served the sturgeon-soup with
his own hands. Nothing in this world interested him but refreshment
bars, and he could only talk about things to eat, about wines and
the paraphernalia of the dinner-table. On one occasion, handing a
cup of tea to a young woman who was nursing her baby and wishing
to say something agreeable to her, he expressed himself in this
way:

"The mother's breast is the baby's refreshment bar."

Reckoning with the beads in Matvey's room, he asked for money; said
he could not go on living at Progonnaya, and several times repeated
in a tone of voice that sounded as though he were just going to
cry:

"Where am I to go? Where am I to go now? Tell me that, please."

Then Matvey went into the kitchen and began peeling some boiled
potatoes which he had probably put away from the day before. It was
quiet, and it seemed to Yakov Ivanitch that the waiter was gone.
It was past the time for evening service; he called Aglaia, and,
thinking there was no one else in the house sang out aloud without
embarrassment. He sang and read, but was inwardly pronouncing other
words, "Lord, forgive me! Lord, save me!" and, one after another,
without ceasing, he made low bows to the ground as though he wanted