The lad was afraid. He glanced quickly around him and, blinking
timidly, also jumped up on his feet. They measured each other with
their eyes in silence.

"Well?" sternly demanded Tchelkache.

He was boiling over with rage at being insulted by this young boy, whom
he had despised even when talking with him, and whom he now began to
hate on account of his pure blue eyes, his healthy and sun-burned face
and his short, strong arms; because he had, somewhere yonder, a village
and a home in that village; because it had been proposed to him to
enter as son-in-law in a well-to-do family, and, above all, because
this being, who was only a child in comparison with himself, should
presume to like liberty, of which he did not know the worth and which
was useless to him. It is always disagreeable to see a person whom we
consider our inferior like, or dislike, the same things that we do and
to be compelled to admit that in that respect they are our equals.

The lad gazed at Tchelkache and felt that he had found his master.

"Why . . ." said he; "I consent. I'm willing. It's work that I'm
looking for. It's all the same to me whether I work with you or
someone else. I only said that because you don't seem like a man that
works . . . you are far too ragged. However, I know very well that
that may happen to anyone. Have I never seen a drunkard? Eh! How
many I've seen, and much worse than you!"

"Good! Then you consent?" asked Tchelkache, somewhat mollified.

"I, why yes, with pleasure. Name your price."