You see, he has put on a new waistcoat, and he likes it very much, so he goes strutting about, and pushes everybody, crying: 'See, see what a waistcoat I have on!' It's true, it's a fine waistcoat.
But what's the use of pushing people?
It's hot enough for us without it." Pavel smiled and asked: "How long do you mean to keep up your jabbering?
You gave me one thrashing with your tongue.

That's enough!" Sitting on the floor, the Little Russian spread his legs around the samovar, and regarded Pavel.

The mother stood at the door, and fixed a sad, affectionate gaze at Andrey's long, bent neck and the round back of his head.

He threw his body back, supporting himself with his hands on the floor, looked at the mother and at the son with his slightly reddened and blinking eyes, and said in a low, hearty voice: "You are good people, yes, you are!" Pavel bent down and grasped his hand.
"Don't pull my hand," said the Little Russian gruffly.

"You'll let go and I'll fall.