"Very true," remarked Adrian; "however, if the live man has not got wherewith to pay for his boots, one cannot take it amiss in him if he goes barefooted, but a dead beggar has a coffin gratis."
In this manner they conversed for some time. At last the bootmaker rose, and taking leave of the undertaker, renewed his invitation.
The next day at twelve o'clock precisely, the undertaker and his daughters passed through the wicket of the newly bought house on their way to neighbour Schulz. I shall not describe either the Russian caftan[1] of Adrian Próhoroff, or the European attire of Akoulina and Daria, departing in this respect from the now so prevalent custom among novelists. I do not, however, consider it superfluous to remark, that both young ladies wore yellow bonnets and red shoes; this they did only on grand occasions.
The small dwelling of the bootmaker was filled with guests, who chiefly consisted of German artisans, their wives, and their workmen; of Russian employés there was but one, the Esthonian, Yoorko the watchman, who had, in spite of his lowly calling, managed to secure the special good-will of his host. He had served in this capacity for five-and-twenty years, faithfully and honestly, like the postman[2] of Pogarelsky. The fire of 1812, which destroyed the chief capital, annihilated also his yellow watch-box. But as soon as the enemy was expelled, a new one appeared in its stead: it was gray,
