In Beggary a Man Is Not Chased Out With a Stick

Marmelodov was a familiar figure here, and had most likely acquired his weakness for high-flown speeches from the habit of frequently entering into conversation with strangers. He filled his glass, emptied it, and paused. Bits of hay were in fact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his hair. It seemed quite probable that he had not undressed or washed for the last five days. His hands, particularly, were filthy. They were fat and red, with black nails. The boys of the counter fell to sniggering. And why don't you work? pronounced the innkeeper.