Having got through the unloading and veterinary inspection, Malahin and Yasha take up their quarters in a dirty, cheap hotel in the outskirts of the town, in the square in which the cattle-market is held.Their lodgings are filthy and their food is disgusting, unlike what they ever have at home; they sleep to the harsh strains of a wretched steam hurdy-gurdy which plays day and night in the restaurant under their lodging.
The old man spends his time from morning till night going about looking for purchasers, and Yasha sits for days in the hotel room, or goes out into the street to look at the town.He sees the filthy square heaped up with dung, the signboards of restaurants, the turreted walls of a monastery in the fog.
Sometimes he runs across the street and looks into the grocer's shop, admires the jars of cakes of different colors, yawns, and lazily saunters back to his room.The city does not interest him.
At last the bullocks are sold to a dealer.Malahin hires drovers.
The cattle are divided into herds, ten in each, and driven to the other end of the town.The bullocks, exhausted, go with drooping heads through the noisy streets, and look indifferently at what they see for the first and last time in their lives.The tattered drovers walk after them, their heads drooping too.They are bored....Now and then some drover starts out of his brooding, remembers that there are cattle in front of him intrusted to his charge, and to show that he is doing his duty brings a stick down full swing on a bullock's back.The bullock staggers with the pain, runs forward a dozen paces, and looks about him as though he were ashamed at being beaten before people.
After selling the bullocks and buying for his family presents such as they could perfectly well have bought at home, Malahin and Yasha get ready for their journey back.Three hours before the train goes the old man, who has already had a drop too much with the purchaser and so is fussy, goes down with Yasha to the restaurant and sits down to drink tea.Like all provincials, he cannot eat and drink alone: he must have company as fussy and as fond of sedate conversation as himself.
"Call the host!" he says to the waiter; "tell him I should like to entertain him."The hotel-keeper, a well-fed man, absolutely indifferent to his lodgers, comes and sits down to the table.
"Well, we have sold our stock," Malahin says, laughing."I have swapped my goat for a hawk.Why, when we set off the price of meat was three roubles ninety kopecks, but when we arrived it had dropped to three roubles twenty-five.They tell us we are too late, we should have been here three days earlier, for now there is not the same demand for meat, St.Philip's fast has come...
.Eh? It's a nice how-do-you-do! It meant a loss of fourteen roubles on each bullock.Yes.But only think what it costs to bring the stock! Fifteen roubles carriage, and you must put down six roubles for each bullock, tips, bribes, drinks, and one thing and another...."The hotel-keeper listens out of politeness and reluctantly drinks tea.Malahin sighs and groans, gesticulates, jests about his ill-luck, but everything shows that the loss he has sustained does not trouble him much.He doesn't mind whether he has lost or gained as long as he has listeners, has something to make a fuss about, and is not late for his train.
An hour later Malahin and Yasha, laden with bags and boxes, go downstairs from the hotel room to the front door to get into a sledge and drive to the station.They are seen off by the hotel-keeper, the waiter, and various women.The old man is touched.He thrusts ten-kopeck pieces in all directions, and says in a sing-song voice:
"Good by, good health to you! God grant that all may be well with you.Please God if we are alive and well we shall come again in Lent.Good-by.Thank you.God bless you!"Getting into the sledge, the old man spends a long time crossing himself in the direction in which the monastery walls make a patch of darkness in the fog.Yasha sits beside him on the very edge of the seat with his legs hanging over the side.His face as before shows no sign of emotion and expresses neither boredom nor desire.He is not glad that he is going home, nor sorry that he has not had time to see the sights of the city.
"Drive on!"
The cabman whips up the horse and, turning round, begins swearing at the heavy and cumbersome luggage.
---- * On many railway lines, in order to avoid accidents, it is against the regulations to carry hay on the trains, and so live stock are without fodder on the journey.-- Author's Note.
**The train destined especially for the transport of troops is called the troop train; when they are no troops it takes goods, and goes more rapidly than ordinary goods train.-- Author's Note.
