Anastasy's bent figure. "'That is my wife,' said he. 'When was
your wedding?' Nikolay Matveyitch asked him, and Pyotr answered,
'We were married at Kulikov's restaurant.'"

His Reverence's eyes flashed wrathfully and the colour came into
his temples. Apart from his sinfulness, Pyotr was not a person he
liked. Father Fyodor had, as they say, a grudge against him. He
remembered him a boy at school--he remembered him distinctly,
because even then the boy had seemed to him not normal. As a
schoolboy, Petrushka had been ashamed to serve at the altar, had
been offended at being addressed without ceremony, had not crossed
himself on entering the room, and what was still more noteworthy,
was fond of talking a great deal and with heat--and, in Father
Fyodor's opinion, much talking was unseemly in children and pernicious
to them; moreover Petrushka had taken up a contemptuous and critical
attitude to fishing, a pursuit to which both his Reverence and the
deacon were greatly addicted. As a student Pyotr had not gone to
church at all, had slept till midday, had looked down on people,
and had been given to raising delicate and insoluble questions with
a peculiarly provoking zest.

"What would you have?" his Reverence asked, going up to the deacon
and looking at him angrily. "What would you have? This was to be
expected! I always knew and was convinced that nothing good would
come of your Pyotr! I told you so, and I tell you so now. What you
have sown, that now you must reap! Reap it!"

"But what have I sown, Father Fyodor?" the deacon asked softly,
looking up at his Reverence.