right? Take some, help yourself!'
'Tell me, please, Ivan Nikiforovich, going back to the gun: What are you going to do with it? You have no need for it.'
'How, no need for it? What if I have occasion to shoot?'
'God help you, Ivan Nikiforovich, when are you going to shoot? Maybe after the Second Coming. As far as I know or any- one else remembers, you've never shot so much as a single duck, and your whole nature has not been fashioned by the Lord God for hunting. Your shape and posture are imposing. How can you go dragging yourself about the swamps, if your clothes, which could not decently be called by name in every conversation, are still being aired out, what then? No, you need peace, repose.' (Ivan Ivanovich, as was mentioned earlier, could speak extremely picturesquely when he needed to convince somebody. How he could speak! God, how he could speak!) 'Yes, and so you need suitable activities. Listen, give it to me!'
'How can I! It's an expensive gun. You won't find such a gun anywhere now. I bought it off a Turk when I was still intending to join the militia. And now I should suddenly up and give it away? How can I? It's a necessity.'
'Why a necessity?'
'Why? And when robbers attack the house… Of course it's a necessity. Thank God, I'm at ease now and not afraid of anybody. And why? Because I know I've got a gun in the closet.'
'A real good gun! Look, Ivan Nikiforovich, the lock's broken!'
'So what if it's broken? It can be fixed. It just needs to be oiled with hempseed oil to keep it from rusting.'
'From your words, Ivan Nikiforovich, I don't see any friendly disposition toward me. You don't want to do anything for me as a token of good will.'
'How can you say I don't show you any good will, Ivan Ivanovich? Shame on you! Your oxen graze on my steppe, and I've never once borrowed them from you. When you go to Poltava, you always ask for the loan of my cart, and what-did I ever refuse? Children from your yard climb over the fence into mine and play with my dogs, and I say nothing: let them play, so long as they don't touch anything! let them play!'
'If you don't want to give it to me, maybe we can make a trade.'
'And what will you give me for it?' With that, Ivan Nikiforovich leaned on his arm and looked at Ivan Ivanovich.
'I'll give you the brown sow, the one I fattened in the pen. A fine sow! You'll see if she doesn't produce a litter for you next year.'
'I don't know how you can say it, Ivan Ivanovich. What do I need your sow for? To feast the devil's memory?'
'Again! You just can't do without some devil or other! It's a sin on you, by God, it's a sin, Ivan Nikiforovich!'
'But really, Ivan Ivanovich, how can you go offering devil knows what-some sow-for a gun!'
'Why is it devil knows what, Ivan Nikiforovich?'
'What else? You can judge pretty well for yourself. Here we have a gun, a known thing; and there, devil knows what-a sow! If it wasn't you talking, I might take it in an offensive way.'
'What do you find so bad in a sow?'
'Who do you really take me for? That some sow…'
'Sit down, sit down! I won't… Let the gun stay yours, let it rot and rust away standing in a corner of the closet-I don't want to talk about it anymore.'
After which silence ensued.
'They say,' Ivan Ivanovich began, 'three kings have declared war on our tsar.'
'Yes, Pyotr Fyodorovich told me. What is this war? and why?'
'It's impossible to say for certain what it's about, Ivan Nikiforovich. I suppose the kings want us all to embrace the Turkish faith.'
'Some fools to want that!' said Ivan Nikiforovich, raising his head.
'You see, and our tsar declared war on them for it. No, he says, you can embrace the Christian faith!'
'And so? Ours will beat them, Ivan Ivanovich!'
'Yes, they will. So, then, Ivan Nikiforovich, don't you want to trade me your little gun?'
'I find it strange, Ivan Ivanovich: you're a man known for his learning, it seems, yet you speak like an oaf. What a fool I'd be if…'
'Sit down, sit down. God help it! let it perish, I won't say any more!…'
Just then the snack was brought in.
Ivan Ivanovich drank a glass and followed it with pie and sour cream.
'Listen, Ivan Nikiforovich, besides the sow, I'll give you two sacks of oats, since you didn't sow any oats. This year you'll need to buy oats anyway.'
'By God, Ivan Ivanovich, a man has to eat a lot of peas before he talks with you.' (That's nothing, Ivan Nikiforovich can come out with much better phrases.) 'Has anybody ever seen a gun traded for two sacks of oats? No fear you'll go offering me your bekesha.'
'But you've forgotten, Ivan Nikiforovich, that I'm also giving you the sow.'
'What! a sow and two sacks of oats for a gun?'
