What pay
do you get?"
"Not much, Vasily Stepanych--twelve rubles."
"And I, thirteen and a half rubles. Why? By the regulations the
company should give us fifteen rubles a month with firing and
lighting. Who decides that you should have twelve rubles, or I
thirteen and a half? Ask yourself! And you say a man can live on that?
You understand it is not a question of one and a half rubles or three
rubles--even if they paid us each the whole fifteen rubles. I was at
the station last month. The director passed through. I saw him. I had
that honour. He had a separate coach. He came out and stood on the
platform... I shall not stay here long; I shall go somewhere,
anywhere, follow my nose."
"But where will you go, Stepanych? Leave well enough alone. Here you
have a house, warmth, a little piece of land. Your wife is a worker."
"Land! You should look at my piece of land. Not a twig on it--nothing.
I planted some cabbages in the spring, just when the inspector came
along. He said: 'What is this? Why have you not reported this? Why
have you done this without permission? Dig them up, roots and all.' He
was drunk. Another time he would not have said a word, but this time
it struck him.
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