'Don't look down on the old fellow, but come round,' pursued Mr. Ratsch.
'But now...' (he pulled a fat silver watch out of his pocket and put it
up to one of his goggle eyes)'I'd better be toddling on, I suppose. I've
another chick expecting me.... Devil knows what I'm teaching him,...
mythology, by God! And he lives a long way off, the rascal, at the Red
Gate! No matter; I'll toddle off on foot. Thanks to your brother's
cutting his lesson, I shall be the fifteen kopecks for sledge hire to
the good! Ha-ha! A very good day to you, gentlemen, till we meet
again!... Eh?... We must have a little duet!' Mr. Ratsch bawled from the
passage putting on his goloshes noisily, and for the last time we heard
his metallic laugh.


V


'What a strange man!' I said, turning to Fustov, who had already set to
work at his turning-lathe. 'Can he be a foreigner? He speaks Russian so
fluently.'

'He is a foreigner; only he's been thirty years in Russia. As long ago
as 1802, some prince or other brought him from abroad... in the capacity
of secretary... more likely, valet, one would suppose. He does speak
Russian fluently, certainly.'

'With such go, such far-fetched turns and phrases,' I put in.

'Well, yes. Only very unnaturally too. They're all like that, these
Russianised Germans.'