Then I should have a chance for myself. But no,
nothing has come my way, I've failed in everything! So now it's
necessary to enter a family, be a slave, because I can't get along with
what I have--impossible! Ehe! . . ."
The lad detested the idea of becoming the husband of some rich girl who
would remain at home. His face grew dull and sad. He moved restlessly
about on the ground; this roused Tchelkache from the reflections in
which his speech had plunged him.
Tchelkache felt that he had no more desire to talk, but he nevertheless
asked:
"Where are you going, now?"
"Where am I going? Home, of course!"
"Why of course? . . . Perhaps you'd like to go to Turkey."
"To Turkey?" drawled the boy. "Do Christians go there? What do you
mean by that?"
"What an imbecile you are!" sighed Tchelkache, and he again turned his
back on his interlocutor, thinking this time that he would not
vouchsafe him another word. This robust peasant awakened something
obscure within him.
A confused feeling was gradually growing up, a kind of vexation was
stirring the depths of his being and preventing him from concentrating
his thoughts upon what he had to do that night.
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