carrying you now? Did you have a bad time with Plyushkin, or is it simply to please yourselves that you are wandering in the forest and robbing travellers? Are you in prison or have you found other masters and are tilling the land? Yeremy Karyakin, Nikita Flitter and his son, Anton Flitter. One can see by their very names that they were nimble-footed gentry. Popov, a house-serf. … He must have been able to read and write: I bet he never took a knife in his hand, but did his thieving in a gentlemanly way. But then a police-captain caught you without a passport. You stood your ground boldly when you were examined. "Whose man are you?" says the police-captain, flinging some strong language at you on this appropriate occasion. "Mr. So-an-so's," you answer smartly. "Why are you here?" says the police-captain. "Away on leave for a fixed payment," you answer without hesitation. "Where is your passport?" "My employer, Pimenov, has it." "Call Pimenov." "Are you Pimenov?" "I am Pimenov." "Did he give you his passport?" "No, he never gave me a passport." "Why are you lying?" says the police-captain, with the addition of some strong language. "Just so," you answer boldly, "I did not give it to him because I got home late, but gave it to Antip Prohorov, the bell-ringer, to take care of." "Call the bell-ringer. Did he give you his passport?" "No, I took no passport from him."
'"Why are you lying again?" says the police-captain, fortifying his words with more strong
