Skouchayev regaled him--as he did everything else--very solidly, as if he were conducting an important affair. At the same time he tried to introduce some ingenious tricks into his hospitality. They brought punch in large glasses like coffee, and the host called it his "little coffee." The vodka glasses looked as if the foot had been broken off and the stem sharpened so that they would not stand upright on the table.
"Now I call these, 'Pour in and pour out,'" exclaimed the host.
Then the merchant Tishkov arrived, a small, grey-haired, brisk and cheerful man in very long boots. He drank a great deal of vodka and said all sorts of absurdities in rhyme[1], briskly and gaily, and it was obvious that he was very satisfied with himself.
Peredonov decided at last that it was time to go home, and he rose to take his leave.
"Don't be in such a hurry," said the host, "stay a while."
"Stay a while and help us smile," said Tishkov.
"No, it's time to leave," replied Peredonov with a preoccupied air.
"It's time to leave or his cousin'll grieve," said Tishkov and winked at Skouchayev.
"Just now I'm a busy man," said Peredonov.
"He who's a busy man we praise him all we can," answered Tishkov promptly.
Skouchayev escorted Peredonov to the hall. They embraced and kissed each other at parting. Peredonov was pleased with his visit. "The Mayor's on my side," he thought confidently.
When he returned to Tishkov, Skouchayev said:
"They may gossip about that youth, but they don't know the truth," Tishkov caught him up immediately, deftly pouring himself a glass of English bitter.
It was evident that he was not paying attention to what was said to him, but that he only caught up words for the sake of rhyme.
"He's not a bad fellow," said Skouchayev. "He's a hearty chap and he's not a fool at drinking," continued Skouchayev as he poured himself a drink, paying no attention to Tishkov's rhyming.
"If he's not a fool at drinking, then he's not an ass at thinking," shouted Tishkov gaily, swallowing his drink at one gulp.
"That he's fussing around with a Mam'zell--what does that matter!" said Skouchayev.
"Well, he's got a Mam'zell, but she may be a damn sell," replied Tishkov.
"He who has not sinned against God is not responsible to the Tsar."