After his misfortune with the forged coupon, Ivan Mironov took to drink;
and all he possessed would have gone on drink if it had not been for his
wife, who locked up his clothes, the horses' collars, and all the rest
of what he would otherwise have squandered in public-houses. In his
drunken state Ivan Mironov was continually thinking, not only of the man
who had wronged him, but of all the rich people who live on robbing
the poor. One day he had a drink with some peasants from the suburbs
of Podolsk, and was walking home together with them. On the way the
peasants, who were completely drunk, told him they had stolen a horse
from a peasant's cottage. Ivan Mironov got angry, and began to abuse the
horse-thieves.

"What a shame!" he said. "A horse is like a brother to the peasant. And
you robbed him of it? It is a great sin, I tell you. If you go in for
stealing horses, steal them from the landowners. They are worse than
dogs, and deserve anything."

The talk went on, and the peasants from Podolsk told him that it
required a great deal of cunning to steal a horse on an estate.

"You must know all the ins and outs of the place, and must have somebody
on the spot to help you."

Then it occurred to Ivan Mironov that he knew a landowner--Sventizky;
he had worked on his estate, and Sventizky, when paying him off, had
deducted one rouble and a half for a broken tool. He remembered well the
grey horses which he used to drive at Sventizky's.

Ivan Mironov called on Peter Nikolaevich pretending to ask for