neighbour, the starosta, of his third son who had sent him no present for the feast, although he had sent his wife a very nice French kerchief.
"Our young folks are getting out of hand," said the old man.
"Getting out of hand indeed! everything is out of gear nowadays," said the starosta. "We are all so frightfully knowing! Look at that Dravotchkin fellow, for instance, who has just broken his father's arm. It all comes of having too much mind, forsooth — that's quite plain."
Nikita listened, and looked in the faces of the talkers, and it was plain that he also wanted to take part in the conversation; but his mouth was full of tea, so he only nodded his head approvingly. He drank glass after glass, and began to grow ever warmer and warmer, and more and more friendly. The conversation continued to turn for a long time round one and the same subject, viz., the mischief of the division of property. It was no abstract discussion, that was plain. They were discussing the evil of the division of the property of that very family; a division demanded by the second son, who was actually sitting there, listening in moody silence. This was evidently a sore point. It was a question which occupied all the people in the house; but out of regard for the stranger they did not emphasize their own personal interests. But at last the old man could stand it no longer, and, with tears in his voice, began to say that he would not give in to the proposed division. So long as he lived his house should remain his to the glory of God." Once begin with
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