The Works of Nikolai Gogol, Vol. 1

box, flicked his finger against the painted face of some infidel busurman a derogatory term for a non-Christian, specifically a Muslim general, and, taking a generous portion of snuff ground with ashes and lovage leaves, brought it to his nose in a curved motion, inhaled the whole heap in one go without even touching his thumb—and not a word said. And as he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a blue checkered cotton handkerchief, only then did he mutter to himself, perhaps even quoting a proverb: "Do not cast pearls before swine..." A quarrel is coming now, I thought, noticing that the fingers of Foma Grigorievich were forming into a fig dula an obscene gesture made by tucking the thumb between the index and middle fingers. Fortunately, my old woman had the foresight to place on the table a hot honey-cake knish a traditional baked pastry with butter; everyone set to work. The hand of Foma Grigorievich, instead of showing the insult, reached for the pastry and, as always happens, they began to praise the mistress of the house for her skill. We had one other storyteller, but he (it is better not to even remember him at night) used to dig up such terrible stories that one's hair would stand on end. I purposefully did not include them