We did not like the _bulochniks_,
because we envied them. Their work was easier than ours, they were
better paid, they were given better meals, theirs was a spacious,
light workshop, and they were all so clean and healthy--repulsive to
us; while we were all yellow, and gray, and sickly. During holidays
and whenever they were free from work they put on nice coats and
creaking boots; two of them had harmonicas, and they all went to the
city park; while we had on dirty rags and burst shoes, and the city
police did not admit us into the park--could we love the _bulochniks_?
One day we learned that one of their bakers had taken to drink, that
the proprietor had discharged him and hired another one in his place,
and that the other one was a soldier, wearing a satin vest and a gold
chain to his watch. We were curious to see such a dandy, and in the
hope of seeing him we, now and again, one by one, began to run out
into the yard.
But he came himself to our workshop. Kicking the door open with his
foot, and leaving it open, he stood on the threshold, and smiling,
said to us:
"God help you! Hello, fellows!" The cold air, forcing itself in at
the door in a thick, smoky cloud, was whirling around his feet; he
stood on the threshold, looking down on us from above, and from under
his fair, curled moustache, big, yellow teeth were flashing.
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