A SPORTSMAN'S SKETCHES
the poor, and I don't act against my conscience.'
'You don't take from them now; but when you are badly off yourself, then you will. You don't act against your conscience—fie on you! Of course, they are all saints whom you defend! . . . Have you forgotten Borka Perehodov? Who was it looked after him? Who took him under his protection—eh?'
'Perohodov suffered through his own fault, certainly.'
'He appropriated the public moneys. . . . That was all!'
'But, consider, uncle: his poverty, his family.'
'Poverty, poverty. . . . He's a drunkard, a quarrelsome fellow; that's what it is!'
'He took to drink through trouble,' said Mitya, dropping his voice.
'Through trouble, indeed! Well, you might have helped him, if your heart was so warm to him, but there was no need for you to sit in taverns with the drunken fellow yourself. Though he did speak so finely . . . a prodigy, to be sure!'
'He was a very good fellow.'
'Every one is good with you. . . . But did you send him?' . . . pursued Ovsyanikov, turning to his wife; 'come; you know?'
Tatyana Ilyinitchna nodded.
'Where have you been lately?' the old man began again.
'I have been in the town.'
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