"And if there is anything I hate, it is to repeat what I have said before hitting a man." His fists were clenched already, and one of them looked as though it were on the point of making a very emphatic gesture.

Fischelowitz retired backwards into the front shop, while Vjera looked on from within, now pale again and badly frightened.
"Herr Schmidt! Herr Schmidt! Please, please be quiet! It does not matter!" she cried.
"Then what does matter ?" inquired the Cossack over his shoulders, "If Vjera has cut off her hair," he said, turning again to Fischelowitz, "she has had a good reason for it.

It is none of your business, nor mine either." So saying he was about to go back to his work again.
"Upon my word!" exclaimed the tobacconist.

"Upon my word! I do not understand what has got into the fellow." "You do not understand ?" cried Schmidt, facing him again.

"I mean that if you laugh at Vjera I will break most of your bones." At that moment Akulina's stout figure appeared, entering from the street.
The Cossack stood still, glaring at her, his face growing white and contracted with anger.