position; or he would suddenly go off into some corner, and flinging a long way off the broom or the spade, throw himself on his face on the ground, and lie for hours together without stirring, like a caged beast.  But man gets used to anything, and Gerasim got used at last to living in town.  He had little work to do; his whole duty consisted in keeping the courtyard clean, bringing in a barrel of water twice a day, splitting and dragging in wood for the kitchen and the house, keeping out strangers, and watching at night.  And it must be said he did his duty zealously.  In his courtyard there was never a shaving lying about, never a speck of dust; if sometimes, in the muddy season, the wretched nag, put under his charge for fetching water, got stuck in the road, he would simply give it a shove with his shoulder, and set not only the cart but the horse itself moving.  If he set to chopping wood, the axe fairly rang like glass, and chips and chunks flew in all directions.  And as for strangers, after he had one night caught two thieves and knocked their heads together—­knocked them so that there was not the slightest need to take them to the police-station afterwards—­every one in the neighborhood began to feel a great respect for him; even those who came in the daytime, by no means robbers, but simply unknown persons, at the sight of the terrible porter, waved and shouted to him as though he could hear their shouts.  With all the rest of the servants, Gerasim was on terms hardly friendly—­they were afraid of him—­but familiar; he regarded them as his fellows.  They explained themselves to him by signs, and he understood them, and exactly carried out all orders, but knew his own rights too, and soon no one dared to take his seat at the table.  Gerasim was altogether of a strict and serious temper, he liked order in everything; even the cocks did not dare to fight in his presence, or woe betide them!  Directly he caught sight of them, he would seize them by the legs, swing them ten times round in the air like a wheel, and throw them in different directions.  There were geese, too, kept in the yard; but the goose, as is well known, is a dignified and reasonable bird:  Gerasim felt a respect for them, looked after them, and fed them; he was himself not unlike a gander of the steppes.  He was assigned a little garret over the kitchen; he arranged it himself to his own liking, made a bedstead in it of oak boards on four stumps of wood for legs—­a truly Titanic bedstead; one might have put a ton or two on it—­it would not have bent under the load; under the bed was a solid chest; in a corner stood a little table of the same strong kind, and near the table a three-legged stool, so solid and squat that Gerasim himself would sometimes pick it up and drop it again with a smile of delight.  The garret was locked up by means of a padlock that looked like a kalatch or basket-shaped loaf, only black; the key of this padlock Gerasim always carried about him in his girdle.  He did not like people to come to his garret.