And, true enough, five versts or so further up the road we came to an inn which could certainly not have been described as small – it looked like a staging-post. There was light in two of the windows. One of the tradesmen banged the knocker, the dogs in the hallway began to bark, but nobody came to the door. The tradesman knocked again. This time we heard someone come out of the interior of the house and call to us; we could tell it was a woman’s voice. “Who are you?” she asked, and the tradesman said: “Friends.” “Friends from where?” “Some from here and some from there.” Then the door was unbolted. The hallway was pitch dark. The woman bolted the door behind us and led us into the interior. There were no men to be seen anywhere – there was only the woman who had let us in and another, pock-marked woman who was teasing flax. “Well, good evening, chieftainess!” the tradesman said to the one who had let us in. “Good evening,” the woman replied, and suddenly she started giving me the eye. I looked back at her. She was a big, sturdy woman of about thirty; she was fair-complexioned, the rogue, with rosy cheeks and bossy eyes. “Where did you get this young fellow from?” she asked. That was me she was talking about, you see. “We’ll tell you later,” they said. “But first give us something to get our teeth around, or else they’ll fall out from lack of use.” We were served with pressed beef, horseradish, some pies and a bottle of vodka. “Eat!” the tradesmen said to me. “No,” I said, “I don’t eat meat.” “Well, have a cottage-cheese pie, then.” I took one. “Have a glass of vodka,” they said. I drank a glassful. “Have another,” they said; and I had another. “How would you like to live with us?” they said. “How do you mean – live with you?” I asked. “Well, it’s as you see: it’s inconvenient for us being just the pair – if you join us on the road you can eat and drink with us, too … all you have to do is obey the chieftainess … How would you like that?” These men are up to no good, I thought. I’ve fallen into bad company. “No, fellows; I don’t want to live with you.” “Why ever not?” they asked. And they started to ply me with vodka again, and kept on at me, saying: “Drink, drink.” “Do you know how to fight?” one of them asked me. “I never learned,” I said. “Well, if you never learned, here’s a lesson for you,” one of them said, and landed me a whistling blow on the ear.