“What for?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

“Tell me now.”

“Well, let’s go. I will tell you.…We’ll get there, and…we’ll rob Matvey Ivanovich. Honest!”

“Go to the devil!” said Vanyushka with fear and irritation.

But Salakin, pressed tight against him, began to whisper into his ear:

“Listen. It’s simple enough. We’ll do what has to be done and get back here. Who will suspect us? I know everything there, all the ins and outs. And where the money is kept. And there is silver. Spoons. Goblets in a cabinet behind glass.…”

Salakin’s hot breath warmed Vanyushka’s cheek and his terror began to melt away. Nevertheless, he repeated quietly:

“Get out, I say, you devil!”

“No, but wait!…What a life we could have! Just think! First of all, we eat, we have shoes, we have clothes!”

Vanyushka lay silent, and Salakin kept breathing into his ear and into his brain hot, confident words.

Finally, Vanyushka asked him:

“Is there much money in it?”

V

Two days later, early in the morning, they were walking along the highroad, shoulder to shoulder, and Salakin was talking excitedly to his companion, looking into his eyes.

“You understand? First thing we do, we set fire to the shed! And when it catches, everybody will run to the fire, and he too, Matvey, that is! He will run off, and we’ll get into his house! And we’ll clean him out.…”

“And if they catch us?” asked Vanyushka reflectively.

“They can’t!” said Salakin. “Who would catch us?” And he added in a severe tone of voice: “You have to put out the fire, not catch thieves! Understand?”

Vanyushka nodded.

This was at the beginning of March. Soft, fluffy, heavy snowflakes were lazily dropping from the invisible sky and were fast obliterating the footsteps of the men, who were walking on the road between two rows of aged birches with broken boughs.

“If only we could do it!” said Vanyushka, sighing heavily.

“You’ll see, we’ll have it our way!” Salakin promised confidently.

“God grant it! I mean, if only we succeeded—Lord, I would never undertake anything like that again.…”

The comrades walked fast, because they were very poorly clothed. Salakin wore his woman’s jacket embellished with innumerable holes from which dirty cotton peeped out; his feet swam in huge felt boots; and