begging:

"Spit! Spit right into my shameless eyes!"

The company, stupefied for a moment by Ignat's stern voice,
laughed again so that the panes rattled in the tavern windows.

"I'll give you a hundred roubles. Spit!"

And the priest crept over the floor and sobbed for fear, or for
happiness, to hear that this man was begging him to do something
degrading to himself.

Finally Ignat arose from the floor, kicked the priest, and,
flinging at him a package of money, said morosely, with a smile:

"Rabble! Can a man repent before such people? Some are afraid to
hear of repentance, others laugh at a sinner. I was about to
unburden myself completely; the heart trembled. Let me, I
thought. No, I didn't think at all. Just so! Get out of here! And
see that you never show yourself to me again. Do you hear?"

"Oh, a queer fellow!" said the crowd, somewhat moved.

Legends were composed about his drinking bouts in town; everybody
censured him strictly, but no one ever declined his invitation to
those drinking bouts. Thus he lived for weeks.

And unexpectedly he used to come home, not yet altogether freed
from the odour of the kabaks, but already crestfallen and quiet.