“They will. So you won’t swap the gun, Ivan Nikiforovich?”

“It’s a strange thing to me, Ivan Ivanovich, that you, who seem to be a man distinguished for sense, should talk such nonsense. What a fool I should be!”

“Sit down, sit down. God be with it! let it burst! I won’t mention it again.”

At this moment, lunch was brought in.

Ivan Ivanovich drank a glass, and ate a pie with sour cream. “Listen, Ivan Nikiforovich: I will give you, besides the sow, two sacks of oats; you did not sow any oats. You’ll have to buy oats this year, in any case.”

“By Heaven, Ivan Ivanovich, I must tell you, you are very green! [This is nothing: Ivan Nikiforovich does not even stop at such phrases.] Who ever heard of swapping a gun for two sacks of oats? Never fear, you don’t offer your coat.”

“But you forget, Ivan Nikiforovich, that I am to give you the sow too.”

“What! two sacks of oats and a sow for a gun?”

“Why, is it too little?”

“For a gun?”

“Of course, for a gun.”

“Two sacks for a gun?”

“Two sacks, not empty, but filled with oats; and you’ve forgotten the sow.”

“Kiss your sow; and, if you don’t like that, then go to the Evil One!”

“Oh, get angry now, do! See here: they’ll stick your tongue full of red-hot needles in the other world, for such godless words. After a conversation with you, one has to wash his face and hands, and fumigate himself.”

“Permit me, Ivan Ivanovich: my gun is a noble thing, the most curious toy; and, besides, it is a very agreeable decoration in a room.”…

“You go on like a fool about that gun of yours, Ivan Nikiforovich,” said Ivan Ivanovich with vexation; for he was beginning to be really angry.

“And you, Ivan Ivanovich, are a regular goose!”

If Ivan Nikiforovich had not uttered that word, then they would have quarrelled, but would have parted friends as usual; but now things took quite another turn. Ivan Ivanovich flew into a rage.

“What was that you said, Ivan Nikiforovich?” he asked, raising his voice.

“I said you were like a goose, Ivan Ivanovich!”

“How dare you, sir, forgetful of decency, and the respect due a man’s rank and family, insult him with such a disgraceful name!”

“What is there disgraceful about it? And why are you flourishing your hands so, Ivan Ivanovich?”