  Some time passed again, and I heard nothing of Misha.... God knows what he was doing. But one day, as I sat over the samovar at a posting-station on the T—— highroad, waiting for horses, I suddenly heard under the open window of the station room a hoarse voice, uttering in French the words: ‘Monsieur ... monsieur ... prenez pitiÉ d’un pauvre gentil-homme ruinÉ.’ ... I lifted my head, glanced.... The mangy-looking fur cap, the broken ornaments on the ragged Circassian dress, the dagger in the cracked sheath, the swollen, but still rosy face, the dishevelled, but still thick crop of hair.... Mercy on us! Misha! He had come then to begging alms on the high-roads. I could not help crying out. He recognised me, started, turned away, and was about to move away from the window. I stopped him ... but what could I say to him? Give him a lecture? ... In silence I held out a five-rouble note; he, also in silence, took it in his still white and plump, though shaking and dirty hand, and vanished round the corner of the house. It was a good while before they gave me horses, and I had time to give myself up to gloomy reflections on my unexpected meeting with Misha; I felt ashamed of having let him go so unsympathetically. At last I set off on my way, and half a mile from the station I observed ahead of me, in the road, a crowd of people moving along with a curious, as it seemed rhythmic, step. I overtook this crowd—and what did I see? Some dozen or so beggars, with sacks over their shoulders, were walking two by two, singing and leaping about, while in front of them danced Misha, stamping time with his feet, and shouting, ‘Natchiki-tchikaldy, tchuk, tchuk, tchuk! ... Natchiki-tchikaldy, tchuk, tchuk, tchuk!’ Directly my carriage caught them up, and he saw me, he began at once shouting, ‘Hurrah! Stand in position! right about face, guard of the roadside!’ The beggars took up his shout, and halted; while he, with his peculiar laugh, jumped on to the carriage step, and again yelled: Hurrah! ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ I asked with involuntary astonishment. ‘This? This is my company, my army—all beggars, God’s people, friends of my heart. Every one of them, thanks to you, has had a glass; and now we are all rejoicing and making merry! ... Uncle! Do you know it’s only with beggars, God’s people, that one can live in the world ... by God, it is!’ I made him no answer ... but at that moment he struck me as such a kind good creature, his face expressed such childlike simple-heartedness.... A light seemed suddenly as it were to dawn upon me, and I felt a pang in my heart.... ‘Get into the carriage,’ I said to him. He was taken aback.... ‘What? Into the carriage?’ ‘Yes, get in, get in,’ I repeated; ‘I want to make you a suggestion. Sit down.... Come along with me.’ ‘Well, as you will.’ He sat down. ‘Well, and you, my honoured friends, my dear comrades,’ he added, addressing the beggars, ‘fare-well, till we meet again.’ Misha took off his high cap, and bowed low. The beggars all seemed overawed.... I told the coachman to whip up the horses, and the carriage rolled off. The suggestion I wanted to make Misha was this: the idea suddenly occurred to me to take him with me to my home in the country, about five-and-twenty miles from that station, to rescue him, or at least to make an effort to rescue him. ‘Listen, Misha,’ I said; ‘will you come along and live with me? ... You shall have everything provided you; you shall have clothes and linen made you; you shall be properly fitted out, and you shall have money to spend on tobacco, and so on, only on one condition, that you give up drink.... Do you agree?’ Misha was positively aghast with delight; he opened his eyes wide, flushed crimson, and suddenly falling on my shoulder, began kissing me, and repeating in a broken voice, ‘Uncle ... benefactor ... God reward you.’ ... He burst into tears at last, and taking off his cap fell to wiping his eyes, his nose, his lips with it. ‘Mind,’ I observed; ‘remember the condition, not to touch strong drink.’ ‘Damnation to it!’ he cried, with a wave of both arms, and with this impetuous movement, I was more than ever conscious of the strong smell of spirits with which he seemed always saturated.... ‘Uncle, if you knew what my life has been.... If it hadn’t been for sorrow, a cruel fate.... But now I swear, I swear, I will mend my ways, I will show you.... Uncle, I’ve never told a lie—you can ask whom you like.... I’m honest, but I’m an unlucky fellow, uncle; I’ve known no kindness from any one....’ Here he broke down finally into sobs. I tried to soothe him, and succeeded so far that when we reached home Misha had long been lost in a heavy sleep, with his head on my knees.
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