"They are getting up," said Iakov. "And I wanted to start to town
early. I've lost time with you."
"One does nothing good in my company," she said, half in jest, half
seriously.
"What a habit you have of scaring people," replied Iakov.
"You'll see when your father--."
This allusion to his father angered him.
"What about my father? I'm not a boy. And I'm not blind, either. He's
not a saint, either; he deprives himself of nothing. If you don't mind
I'll steal you from my father."
"You?"
"Do you think I wouldn't dare?"
"Really?"
"Now, look you," he began furiously, "don't defy me. I--."
"What now?" she asked with indifference.
"Nothing."
He turned away with a determined look on his face.
"How brave you are," she said, tauntingly. "You remind me of the
inspector's little dog. At a distance he barks and threatens to bite,
but when you get near him he puts his tail between his legs and runs
away."
"All right," cried Iakov, angrily. "Wait! you'll see what I am."
Advancing towards them came a sunburnt, tattered and muscular-looking
individual. He wore a ragged red shirt, his trousers were full of
holes, and his feet were bare.
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