“No!  You don’t say so!”

“Yes, I used it to pay for a cartload of firewood I bought from a peasant.”

And Eugene Mihailovich related with great indignation to the company present—­his wife adding more details to his narrative—­how his wife had been cheated by two unscrupulous schoolboys.

“Well, and now let us sit down to work,” he said, taking his place at one of the whist-tables when his turn came, and beginning to shuffle the cards.

VI

Eugene Mihailovich had actually used the coupon to buy firewood from the peasant Ivan Mironov, who had thought of setting up in business on the seventeen roubles he possessed.  He hoped in this way to earn another eight roubles, and with the twenty-five roubles thus amassed he intended to buy a good strong horse, which he would want in the spring for work in the fields and for driving on the roads, as his old horse was almost played out.

Ivan Mironov’s commercial method consisted in buying from the stores a cord of wood and dividing it into five cartloads, and then driving about the town, selling each of these at the price the stores charged for a quarter of a cord.  That unfortunate day Ivan Mironov drove out very early with half a cartload, which he soon sold.  He loaded up again with another cartload which he hoped to sell, but he looked in vain for a customer; no one would buy it.  It was his bad luck all that day to come across experienced towns-people, who knew all the tricks of the peasants in selling firewood, and would not believe that he had actually brought the wood from the country as he assured them.  He got hungry, and felt cold in his ragged woollen coat.  It was nearly below zero when evening came on; his horse which he had treated without mercy, hoping soon to sell it to the knacker’s yard, refused to move a step.  So Ivan Mironov was quite ready to sell his firewood at a loss when he met Eugene Mihailovich, who was on his way home from the tobacconist.

“Buy my cartload of firewood, sir.  I will give it to you cheap.  My poor horse is tired, and can’t go any farther.”

“Where do you come from?”

“From the country, sir.  This firewood is from our place.  Good dry wood, I can assure you.”

“Good wood indeed!  I know your tricks.  Well, what is your price?”

Ivan Mironov began by asking a high price, but reduced it once, and finished by selling the cartload for just what it had cost him.

“I’m giving it to you cheap, just to please you, sir.—­Besides, I am glad it is not a long way to your house,” he added.

Eugene Mihailovich did not bargain very much.  He did not mind paying a little more, because he was delighted to think he could make use of the coupon and get rid of it.  With great difficulty Ivan Mironov managed at last, by pulling the shafts himself, to drag his cart into the courtyard, where he was obliged to unload the firewood unaided and pile it up in the shed.  The yard-porter was out.  Ivan Mironov hesitated at first to accept the coupon, but Eugene Mihailovich insisted, and as he looked a very important person the peasant at last agreed.