Almost choking, he muttered: "To town--to
Moscow--to the head office."
"Head office? Ah, you are going to complain, I suppose. Give it up!
Vasily Stepanych, forget it."
"No, mate, I will not forget. It is too late. See! He struck me in the
face, drew blood. So long as I live I will not forget. I will not
leave it like this!"
Semyon took his hand. "Give it up, Stepanych. I am giving you good
advice. You will not better things..."
"Better things! I know myself I shan't better things. You were right
about Fate. It would be better for me not to do it, but one must stand
up for the right." "But tell me, how did it happen?"
"How? He examined everything, got down from the trolley, looked into
the hut. I knew beforehand that he would be strict, and so I had put
everything into proper order. He was just going when I made my
complaint. He immediately cried out: 'Here is a Government inquiry
coming, and you make a complaint about a vegetable garden. Here are
privy councillors coming, and you annoy me with cabbages!' I lost
patience and said something--not very much, but it offended him, and
he struck me in the face.
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