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作者: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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The master of the establishment was in another room, but he
frequently came down some steps into the main room, his jaunty,
tarred boots with red turn-over tops coming into view each time
before the rest of his person. He wore a full coat and a horribly
greasy black satin waistcoat, with no cravat, and his whole face
seemed smeared with oil like an iron lock. At the counter stood a
boy of about fourteen, and there was another boy somewhat younger
who handed whatever was wanted. On the counter lay some sliced
cucumber, some pieces of dried black bread, and some fish,
chopped up small, all smelling very bad. It was insufferably
close, and so heavy with the fumes of spirits that five minutes
in such an atmosphere might well make a man drunk.

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