"And that is true enough," responded Mokei Budirin after the
fashion of a clarionet.

From that time forth, Ossip of the curly, silvered head, bright
eyes, and shadowy soul became an object of agreeable interest
for me. Indeed, there grew up between us a species of
friendship, even though I could see that a civil bearing towards
me in public was a thing that it hurt him to maintain. At all
events, in the presence of others he avoided my glance, and his
eyes, clear, unsullied, and fight blue in tint, wavered
unsteadily, and his lips twitched and assumed an artificially
unpleasant expression, while he uttered some such speech as:

"Hi, you Makarei, see that you keep your eyes open, and cam
your pay, or that pig of a soldier will be making away with more
nails!"

But at other times, when we were alone together, he would speak
to me kindly and instructively, while his eyes would dance and
gleam with a faint, grave, knowing smile, and dart blue rays
direct into mine, while for my part, as I listened to his words,
I took every one of them to be absolutely true and balanced,
despite their strange delivery.

"A man's duty consists in being good," I remarked on one
occasion.

"Yes, of course," assented Ossip, though the next moment he
veiled his eyes with a smile, and added in an undertone: