"But if it does happen, then what? Such things do occur."
"Maybe these things happen elsewhere, only not with us," said the old man.
Everybody was silent. The clerk moved forward restlessly, and, apparently not wishing to be behind the others, smiled and said:
"Yes, there was once a scandal with a fellow of our set. It is pretty hard to make it out. His wife happened to be a loose woman, and off she went, gallivanting. He was a sober kind of a fellow, with great ability. At first it was with a clerk. Her husband tried to check her with kind treatment,—but she did not stop. She did all kinds of unseemly things, and began to steal his money. Then he beat her. Well? She got worse and worse. She began intrigues with an infidel Jew, excuse me for mentioning it. What could he do? He gave her up entirely. And so he lives single, and she walks the streets."
"Because he is a fool," said the old man. "If he had not given her the reins at first, but had checked her in, she would have been all right. You must not give them their liberty at first. Don't trust a horse in the field, nor a woman in the house!"
Just then the conductor came to ask for the tickets to the next station. The old man gave up his.
"Yes, you must check in the women at the start, or else all is lost."
"What about the jollification married men have at the Kunávin Fair, of which you were telling awhile ago?" I asked, having lost my patience.
"That is a different matter," said the merchant, and buried himself in silence.
When the whistle blew, the merchant got up, got his bag out from under the bench, wrapped himself in his coat, and, raising his cap, went out on the brake platform.
