Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume XIV).djvu/239

Rh with us. I should like to make acquaintance with the brigadier.'

'As you like. Only, as far as acquaintance goes you needn't expect much satisfaction from it, sir; he's grown very weak in his head, and in conversation he's silly as a little child. As well he may be; he's past his eightieth year.'

'What's his name?'

'Vassily Fomitch. Guskov's his surname.'

'And the deacon?'

'The deacon? his nickname's Cucumber. Every one about here calls him so; but what his real name is—God knows! A foolish creature! A regular ne'er-do-weel.'

'Do they live together?'

'No; but there—the devil has tied them together, it seems.'

approached the platform. The brigadier cast one glance upon us and promptly fixed his eyes on the float; Cucumber jumped up, pulled back his rod, took off his worn-out clerical hat, passed a trembling hand over his rough yellow hair, made a sweeping bow, and gave vent to a feeble little laugh. His bloated face betrayed him an inveterate drunkard; his staring little eyes blinked humbly. He gave