And though this same Ossip was an artelui, and a director of the
artel, his senior co-members bore him no affection, but, rather,
looked upon him as a wag or trifler, and treated him as of no
importance. And, similarly, the younger members of the artel
liked well enough to listen to his tales, but declined to take
him seriously, and, in some cases, regarded him with
ill-concealed, or openly expressed, distrust.

Once the Morduine, a man of education with whom, on occasions, I
held discussions on intimate subjects, replied to a question of
mine on the subject of Ossip:

"I scarcely know. Goodness alone knows! No, I do not know
anything about him."

To which, after a pause, he added:

"Once a fellow named Mikhailo, a clever fellow who is now dead,
insulted Ossip by saying to him: 'Do you call yourself a man?
Why, regarded as a workman, you're as lifeless as a doornail,
while, seeing that you weren't born to be a master, you'll all
your life continue chattering in corners, like a plummet
swinging at the end of a string!' Yes, and that was true enough."

Lastly. after another pause the Morduine concluded:

"No matter. He is not such a bad sort."

My own position among these men was a position of some