Another said:—
"No; that is not necessary; he must be simply a soldier."
"No; let him rob his benefactor."
"No; that would not be according to the proverb," said they.
All were thoroughly interested. It was evidently something new and fascinating for them to watch the process of composition, and to take part in it. Their opinions were for the most part similar and just, both in regard to the construction of the story, the details, and the traits of the characters.
Nearly all took part in the composition of the story, but from the very beginning the positive Semka stood out with especial clearness by the artistic sharpness of his description, and Fedka by the truth of his poetic delineations, and more than all by the vividness and force of his imagination. Their strictures were to such a degree given advisedly, and with reason, that more than once, when I argued with them, I was obliged to yield.
It was my idea that accuracy in composition, and the close fitting of the thought to the proverb, should enter into the story; they, on the contrary, cared only for artistic accuracy.
For example, I wanted the peasant who took the old beggar into his house to regret his kindly action; they felt that this was an impossibility, and they brought into the action a vixenish woman.
I said:—
"The peasant at first felt sorry for the beggar, but afterward felt sorry that he had given his bread."
Fedka replied that such a thing would be absurd.
"From the very first he did not listen to his wife, and surely afterward he would not yield to her!"
"But what sort of a man is he in your idea?" I asked.
"He is like Uncle Timofeï," said Fedka, smiling; "his beard is rather thin, he goes to church, and he keeps bees."
