When Kirillovna saw that her guest was a little calmer and only
shuddered and gave a faint sob from time to time, she asked her where
they meant to move to and what they thought of doing with their
things. Avdotya began crying again at this question, and protesting
that she wanted nothing but to die; but Kirillovna as a woman with a
head on her shoulders, checked her at once and advised her without
wasting time to set to work that very day to move their things to the
hut in the village which had been Akim's and in which his uncle (the
old man who had tried to dissuade him from his marriage) was now
living; she told her that with their mistress's permission men and
horses should be sent to help them in packing and moving. "And as for
you, my love," added Kirillovna, twisting her cat-like lips into a wry
smile, "there will always be a place for you with us and we shall be
delighted if you stay with us till you are settled in a house of your
own again. The great thing is not to lose heart. The Lord has given,
the Lord has taken away and will give again. Lizaveta Prohorovna, of
course, had to sell your inn for reasons of her own but she will not
forget you and will make up to you for it; she told me to tell Akim
Semyonitch so. Where is he now?" Avdotya answered that when he met her he had been very unkind to her
and had driven off to Yefrem's. "Oh, to that fellow's!" Kirillovna replied significantly. "Of course,
I understand that it's hard for him now. I daresay you won't find him
to-day; what's to be done? I must make arrangements. Malashka," she
added, turning to one of the maids, "ask Nikanop Ilyitch to come here:
we will talk it over with him." Nikanop Ilyitch, a feeble-looking man who was bailiff or something of
the sort, made his appearance at once, listened with servility to all
that Kirillovna said to him, said, "it shall be done," went out and
gave orders. Avdotya was given three waggons and three peasants; a
fourth who said that he was "more competent than they were,"
volunteered to join them and she went with them to the inn where she
found her own labourers and the servant Fetinya in a state of great
confusion and alarm. Naum's newly hired labourers, three very stalwart young men, had come
in the morning and had not left the place since. They were keeping
very zealous guard, as Naum had said they would--so zealous that the
iron tyres of a new cart were suddenly found to be missing. It was a bitter, bitter task for poor Avdotya to pack. In spite of the
help of the "competent" man, who turned out, however, only capable of
walking about with a stick in his hand, looking at the others and
spitting on the ground, she was not able to get it finished that day
and stayed the night at the inn, begging Fetinya to spend the night in
her room. But she only fell into a feverish doze towards morning and
the tears trickled down her cheeks even in her sleep. Meanwhile Yefrem woke up earlier than usual in his lumber room and
began knocking and asking to be let out. At first his wife was
unwilling to release him and told him through the door that he had not
yet slept long enough; but he aroused her curiosity by promising to
tell her of the extraordinary thing that had happened to Akim; she
unbolted the door. Yefrem told her what he knew and ended by asking
"Is he awake yet, or not?" "The Lord only knows," answered his wife. "Go and look yourself; he
hasn't got down from the stove yet. How drunk you both were yesterday! You should look at your face--you don't look like yourself. You are as
black as a sweep and your hair is full of hay!" "That doesn't matter," answered Yefrem, and, passing his hand over his
head, he went into the room. Akim was no longer asleep; he was sitting
on the stove with his legs hanging down; he, too, looked strange and
unkempt. His face showed the effects the more as he was not used to
drinking much. "Well, how have you slept, Akim Semyonitch?" Yefrem began. Akim looked at him with lustreless eyes. "Well, brother Yefrem," he said huskily, "could we have some again?" Yefrem took a swift glance at Akim.... He felt a slight tremor at that
moment; it was a tremor such as is felt by a sportsman when he hears
the yap of his dog at the edge of the wood from which he had fancied
all the game had been driven. "What, more?" he asked at last. "Yes, more." "My wife will see," thought Yefrem, "she won't let me out, most
likely. "All right," he pronounced aloud, "have a little patience." He went out and, thanks to skilfully taken precautions, succeeded in
bringing in unseen a big bottle under his coat. Akim took the bottle. But Yefrem did not sit down with him as he had
the day before--he was afraid of his wife--and informing Akim that he
would go and have a look at what was going on at the inn and would see
that his belongings were being packed and not stolen--at once set off,
riding his little horse which he had neglected to feed--but judging
from the bulging front of his coat he had not forgotten his own needs. Soon after he had gone, Akim was on the stove again, sleeping like the
dead.... He did not wake up, or at least gave no sign of waking when
Yefrem returned four hours later and began shaking him and trying to
rouse him and muttering over him some very muddled phrases such as
that "everything was moved and gone, and the ikons have been taken out
and driven away and that everything was over, and that everyone was
looking for him but that he, Yefrem, had given orders and not allowed
them, ..." and so on. But his mutterings did not last long. His wife
carried him off to the lumber room again and, very indignant both with
her husband and with the visitor, owing to whom her husband had been
drinking, lay down herself in the room on the shelf under the
ceiling.... But when she woke up early, as her habit was, and glanced
at the stove, Akim was not there. The second cock had not crowed and
the night was still so dark that the sky hardly showed grey overhead
and at the horizon melted into the darkness when Akim walked out of
the gate of the sacristan's house. His face was pale but he looked
keenly around him and his step was not that of a drunken man.... He
walked in the direction of his former dwelling, the inn, which had now
completely passed into the possession of its new owner--Naum. Naum, too, was awake when Akim stole out of Yefrem's house. He was not
asleep; he was lying on a bench with his sheepskin coat under him. It
was not that his conscience was troubling him--no! he had with amazing
coolness been present all day at the packing and moving of all Akim's
possessions and had more than once addressed Avdotya, who was so
downcast that she did not even reproach him ... his conscience was at
rest but he was disturbed by various conjectures and calculations. He
did not know whether he would be lucky in his new career; he had never
before kept an inn, nor had a home of his own at all; he could not
sleep. "The thing has begun well," he thought, "how will it go
on?"