"Now I am at home," he said, taking his seat by the door, without taking any notice of those present. "Ah! to what a length Satan made the road stretch. I went on and on, and there was no end. My legs are quite broken. Woman, bring me my fur blanket to lie down on. There it is in the corner; but mind you don't upset the little pot of snuff. But no; better not touch it! Leave it alone! You are really quite drunk—I had better get it myself."
Kalenik tried to rise, but an invincible power fettered him to his seat.
"That's a nice business!" said the headman. "He comes into a strange house, and behaves as though he were at home! Push him out, in heaven's name!"
"Let him rest a bit, friend!" said the distiller, seizing the headman's arm. "The man is very useful; if we had only plenty of this kind, our distillery would get on grandly. . . ." For the rest, it was not good-nature which inspired these words. The distiller was full of superstition, and to turn out a man who had already sat down, seemed to him to be tantamount to invoking the devil.
"That comes of being old," grumbled Kalenik, stretching himself out along the seat. "People might say I was drunk, but no, I am not! Why should I lie? I am ready to tell the headman to his face! Who is the headman
