"There, dog, swallow them!" he cried trembling with mingled feelings of
anger, pity and hate for this greedy slave. Now that he had thrown him
the money, he felt himself a hero. His eyes, his whole person, beamed
with conscious pride.
"I meant to have given you more. I pitied you yesterday. I thought of
the village. I said to myself: 'I'll help this boy.' I was waiting to
see what you'd do, whether you'd ask me or not. And now, see!
tatterdemalion, beggar, that you are! . . . Is it right to work
oneself up to such a state for money . . . to suffer like that?
Imbeciles, greedy devils who forget . . . who would sell themselves for
five kopeks, eh?"
"Friend . . . Christ's blessing on you! What is this? What?
Thousands? . . . I'm a rich man, now!" screamed Gavrilo, in a frenzy of
delight, hiding the money in his blouse. "Ah! dear man! I shall, never
forget this! never! And I'll beg my wife and children to pray for you."
Tchelkache listened to these cries of joy, gazed at this face,
irradiated and disfigured by the passion of covetousness; he felt that
he himself, the thief and vagabond, freed from all restraining
influence, would never become so rapacious, so vile, so lost to all
decency.
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