PIKE [in the voice of a convalescent]. I never had any business to leave
Indiana!

VASILI. I am sorry, my friend.

[PIKE takes another large forkful of caviar.]

VASILI [observing this]. But I thought you did not like the caviar?

PIKE. It's to take away the taste of the vodka.

VASILI [laughing]. I lift my hat to you.

PIKE. You never worked on a farm in your own country, Doc?

VASILI. That has been denied me.

PIKE. I expect so. Talk about things to drink! Harvest-time, and the
women folks coming out from the house with a two-gallon jug of ice-cold
buttermilk!

[Sets down the glass and whistles softly with delight.]

[HORACE shows increasing signs of annoyance.]

VASILI. You still enjoy those delights?

PIKE. Not since I moved up to our county-seat ten years ago and began to
practice law. Things don't taste the same in the city.