"Get up and wash yourself--but be quick."
"Why, what's the matter?" asked Ilya, sleepily.
"It's a place for you. Something has turned up, thank God! You're to go into a fishmonger's."
Ilya's heart sank with unpleasant anticipation. The wish to leave this house, where he knew everything and was used to everything, suddenly disappeared, and Terenti's room, which he had never liked, all at once seemed so clean and bright. With downcast eyes he sat on his bed and had no inclination to dress. Jakov came in, unkempt and grey in the face, his head bent towards his left shoulder. He gave a fleeting glance at his friend, and said:
"Come on! Father's waiting. You'll come here often?"
"But I'm not going away for altogether," cried Ilya, crossly.
Masha came in herself at this point. She stood by the door, looked at Ilya, and said sorrowfully:----
Ilya tugged at his jacket, got into it somehow, and swore. Masha and Jakov both sighed deeply.
"All right, all right!" answered Ilya, crossly.
"See how he begins to stick it on--mister shopman!" remarked Masha.
"Oh you silly goose!" answered Ilya, softly and reproachfully.
Two minutes later he was going along the street beside Petrusha, who was dressed in his best clothes, with a long overcoat and creaking boots.
"I'm taking you to a most worthy man, that all the town respects," said Petrusha, in an impressive tone, "to Kiril Ivanitch Strogany. He has been decorated and all sorts of things for his goodness and his benevolence; he is on the Town Council, and may be chosen Burgomaster. Serve him well and properly, and he may do something for you. You're a serious lad, and not a spoiled darling, and for him to do anyone a good turn's as easy as spitting."
Ilya listened, and tried to picture the merchant Strogany. He imagined in an odd way that he must be like Jeremy, as withered up and as good-hearted and sociable. But when he reached the fish-shop, he saw behind the desk a tall man with a big belly. There was not a single hair on his head, but from his eyes to his neck, his face was covered with a thick red beard. His eyebrows too, were red and thick, and from underneath them a pair of little greenish eyes looked angrily round about.
"Bow to him," whispered Petrusha to Ilya, indicating the red-bearded man with his eyes. Disillusioned, Ilya let his head sink on his breast.