let them play!"

"If you won't give it to me, then let us make some exchange."

"What will you give me for it?" Thereupon Ivan Nikiforovitch raised
himself on his elbow, and looked at Ivan Ivanovitch.

"I will give you my dark-brown sow, the one I have fed in the sty. A
magnificent sow. You'll see, she'll bring you a litter of pigs next
year."

"I do not see, Ivan Ivanovitch, how you can talk so. What could I do
with your sow? Make a funeral dinner for the devil?"

"Again! You can't get along without the devil! It's a sin! by Heaven,
it's a sin, Ivan Nikiforovitch!"

"What do you mean, Ivan Ivanovitch, by offering the deuce knows what
kind of a sow for my gun?"

"Why is she 'the deuce knows what,' Ivan Nikiforovitch?"

"Why? You can judge for yourself perfectly well; here's the gun, a known
thing; but the deuce knows what that sow is like! If it had not been you
who said it, Ivan Ivanovitch, I might have put an insulting construction
on it."

"What defect have you observed in the sow?"

"For what do you take me--for a sow?"

"Sit down, sit down! I won't--No matter about your gun; let it rot and
rust where it stands in the corner of the storeroom. I don't want to say
anything more about it!"

After this a pause ensued.

"They say," began Ivan Ivanovitch, "that three kings have declared war
against our Tzar."

"Yes, Peter Feodorovitch told me so. What sort of war is this, and why
is it?"

"I cannot say exactly, Ivan Nikiforovitch, what the cause is. I suppose
the kings want us to adopt the Turkish faith."

"Fools! They would have it," said Ivan Nikiforovitch, raising his head.

"So, you see, our Tzar has declared war on them in consequence. 'No,'
says he, 'do you adopt the faith of Christ!'"

"Oh, our people will beat them, Ivan Ivanovitch!"

"They will. So you won't exchange the gun, Ivan Nikiforovitch?"

"It's a strange thing to me, Ivan Ivanovitch, that you, who seem to be
a man distinguished for sense, should talk such nonsense. What a fool I
should be!"

"Sit down, sit down. God be with it! let it burst! I won't mention it
again."

At this moment lunch was brought in.

Ivan Ivanovitch drank a glass and ate a pie with sour cream. "Listen,
Ivan Nikiforovitch: I will give you, besides the sow, two sacks of
oats. You did not sow any oats. You'll have to buy some this year in any
case."

"By Heaven, Ivan Ivanovitch, I must tell you you are very foolish! Who
ever heard of swapping a gun fo