Zourine never ceased pouring out drinks for me; advising me to
become accustomed to the service. Rising from table, I could
scarcely stand. At midnight Zourine brought me back to the inn.

Saveliitch met us at the door, and uttered a cry of horror when he
saw the unmistakable signs of my "zeal for the service."

"What has happened to thee?" said he, in heart-broken accents;
"where have you been filling yourself like a sack? Oh! heavenly
father! a misfortune like this never came before."

"Silence! old owl," said I, stammering, "I am sure you are drunk
yourself; go to bed, but first put me there."

I awoke next morning with a severe headache; the events of the
evening I recalled vaguely, but my recollections became vivid at
the sight of Saveliitch who came to me with a cup of tea.

"You begin young, Peter Grineff," said the old men, shaking his head.
"Eh! from whom do you inherit it? Neither your father nor grandfather
were drunkards. Your mother's name can not be mentioned; she never
deigned to taste any thing but cider. Whose fault is it then? That
cursed Frenchman's; he taught three fine things, that miserable dog--
that pagan--for thy teacher, as if his lordship, thy father, had not
people of his own."

I was ashamed before the old man; I turned my face away saying, "I
do not want any tea, go away, Saveliitch." It was not easy to stop
Saveliitch, once he began to preach.