The orator finished his speech and looked upon his hearers with
his dark, pathetic eyes, seeming to apologise to them for some
unknown crime.

The public understands it. They understand the morale of the
creature who was once a man, the morale of the public-house and
much misfortune.

"Well, brother Yashka, did you understand? See how true it is!"

Yakov understood that to beat her incautiously might be injurious
to his wife. He is silent, replying to his companions' jokes
with confused smiles.

"Then again, what is a wife?" philosophises the baker, Mokei
Anisimoff. "A wife . . . is a friend . . . if we look at the
matter in that way. She is like a chain, chained to you for life
. . . and you are both just like galley slaves. And if you try
to get away from her, you cannot, you feel the chain . . ."

"Wait," says Yakovleff; "but you beat your wife too."

"Did I say that I did not? I beat her. . . There is nothing
else handy. . . Do you expect me to beat the wall with my fist
when my patience is exhausted?"

"I feel just like that too. . ." says Yakov.

"How hard and difficult our life is, my brothers! There is no