waiting for the carriage, which was to come for him from the town,
he walked round the grounds with his bailiff, giving orders in a
loud voice, then sat for a whole hour in our lodge, writing letters.
While he was there telegrams came for him, and he himself tapped
off the answers. We three stood in silence at attention.

"What a muddle!" he said, glancing contemptuously at a record book.
"In a fortnight I am transferring the office to the station, and I
don't know what I am to do with you, my friends."

"I do my best, your honour," said Tcheprakov.

"To be sure, I see how you do your best. The only thing you can do
is to take your salary," the engineer went on, looking at me; "you
keep relying on patronage to _faire le carrière_ as quickly and as
easily as possible. Well, I don't care for patronage. No one took
any trouble on my behalf. Before they gave me a railway contract I
went about as a mechanic and worked in Belgium as an oiler. And
you, Panteley, what are you doing here?" he asked, turning to Radish.
"Drinking with them?"

He, for some reason, always called humble people Panteley, and such
as me and Tcheprakov he despised, and called them drunkards, beasts,
and rabble to their faces. Altogether he was cruel to humble
subordinates, and used to fine them and turn them off coldly without
explanations.

At last the horses came for him. As he said good-bye he promised
to turn us all off in a fortnight; he called his bailiff a blockhead;
and then, lolling at ease in his carriage, drove back to the town.