Lizaveta Prohorovna received a deposit of a hundred roubles and two
hundred went to Kirillovna for her assistance. "It has not cost me
much," thought Naum as he got into his coat, "it was a lucky chance." While the transaction we have described was going forward in the
mistress's house, Akim was sitting at home alone on the bench by the
window, stroking his beard with a discontented expression. We have
said already that he did not suspect his wife's feeling for Naum,
although kind friends had more than once hinted to him that it was
time he opened his eyes; it is true that he had noticed himself that
of late his wife had become rather difficult, but we all know that the
female sex is capricious and changeable. Even when it really did
strike him that things were not going well in his house, he merely
dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand; he did not like the
idea of a squabble; his good nature had not lessened with years and
indolence was asserting itself, too. But on that day he was very much
out of humour; the day before he had overheard quite by chance in the
street a conversation between their servant and a neighbouring peasant
woman. The peasant woman asked the servant why she had not come to see her on
the holiday the day before. "I was expecting you," she said. "I did set off," replied the servant, "but as ill-luck would have it,
I ran into the mistress ... botheration take her." "Ran into her?" repeated the peasant woman in a sing-song voice and
she leaned her cheek on her hand. "And where did you run into her, my
good girl?" "Beyond the priest's hemp-patch. She must have gone to the hemp-patch
to meet her Naum, but I could not see them in the dusk, owing to the
moon, maybe, I don't know; I simply dashed into them." "Dashed into them?" the other woman repeated. "Well, and was she
standing with him, my good girl?" "Yes, she was. He was standing there and so was she. She saw me and
said, 'Where are you running to? Go home.' So I went home." "You went home?" The peasant woman was silent. "Well, good-bye,
Fetinyushka," she brought out at last, and trudged off. This conversation had an unpleasant effect on Akim. His love for
Avdotya had cooled, but still he did not like what the servant had
said. And she had told the truth: Avdotya really had gone out that
evening to meet Naum, who had been waiting for her in the patch of
dense shade thrown on the road by the high motionless hemp. The dew
bathed every stalk of it from top to bottom; the strong, almost
overpowering fragrance hung all about it. A huge crimson moon had just
risen in the dingy, blackish mist. Naum heard the hurried footsteps of
Avdotya a long way off and went to meet her. She came up to him, pale
with running; the moon lighted up her face. "Well, have you brought it?" he asked. "Brought it--yes, I have," she answered in an uncertain voice. "But,
Naum Ivanitch----"

"Give it me, since you have brought it," he interrupted her, and held
out his hand. She took a parcel from under her shawl. Naum took it at once and
thrust it in his bosom. "Naum Ivanitch," Avdotya said slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on him,
"oh, Naum Ivanitch, you will bring my soul to ruin." It was at that instant that the servant came up to them. And so Akim was sitting on the bench discontentedly stroking his
beard. Avdotya kept coming into the room and going out again. He
simply followed her with his eyes. At last she came into the room and
after taking a jerkin from the lobby was just crossing the threshold,
when he could not restrain himself and said, as though speaking to
himself:

"I wonder," he began, "why it is women are always in a fuss? It's no
good expecting them to sit still. That's not in their line. But
running out morning or evening, that's what they like. Yes." Avdotya listened to her husband's words without changing her position;
only at the word "evening," she moved her head slightly and seemed to
ponder. "Once you begin talking, Semyonitch," she commented at last with
vexation, "there is no stopping you." And with a wave of her hand she went away and slammed the door. Avdotya certainly did not appreciate Akim's eloquence and often in the
evenings when he indulged in conversation with travellers or fell to
telling stories she stealthily yawned or went out of the room. Akim
looked at the closed door. "Once you begin talking," he repeated in an
undertone.... "The fact is, I have not talked enough to you. And who
is it? A peasant like any one of us, and what's more...." And he got
up, thought a little and tapped the back of his head with his fist. Several days passed in a rather strange way. Akim kept looking at his
wife as though he were preparing to say something to her, and she, for
her part, looked at him suspiciously; meanwhile, they both preserved a
strained silence. This silence, however, was broken from time to time
by some peevish remark from Akim in regard to some oversight in the
housekeeping or in regard to women in general. For the most part
Avdotya did not answer one word. But in spite of Akim's good-natured
weakness, it certainly would have come to a decisive explanation
between him and Avdotya, if it had not been for an event which
rendered any explanation useless. One morning Akim and wife were just beginning lunch (owing to the
summer work in the fields there were no travellers at the inn) when
suddenly a cart rattled briskly along the road and pulled up sharply
at the front door. Akim peeped out of window, frowned and looked down:
Naum got deliberately out of the cart. Avdotya had not seen him, but
when she heard his voice in the entry the spoon trembled in her hand. He told the labourers to put up the horse in the yard. At last the
door opened and he walked into the room. "Good-day," he said, and took off his cap. "Good-day," Akim repeated through his teeth. "Where has God brought
you from?" "I was in the neighbourhood," replied Naum, and he sat down on the
bench. "I have come from your lady." "From the lady," said Akim, not getting up from his seat. "On
business, eh?" "Yes, on business. My respects to you, Avdotya Arefyevona." "Good morning, Naum Ivanitch," she answered. All were silent. "What have you got, broth, is it?" began Naum. "Yes, broth," replied Akim and all at once he turned pale, "but not
for you." Naum glanced at Akim with surprise. "Not for me?" "Not for you, and that's all about it." Akim's eyes glittered and he
brought his fist on the table. "There is nothing in my house for you,
do you hear?" "What's this, Semyonitch, what is the matter with you?" "There's nothing the matter with me, but I am sick of you, Naum
Ivanitch, that's what it is." The old man got up, trembling all over. "You poke yourself in here too often, I tell you." Naum, too, got up. "You've gone clean off your head, old man," he said with a jeer. "Avdotya Arefyevna, what's wrong with him?" "I tell you," shouted Akim in a cracked voice, "go away, do you
hear? ... You have nothing to do with Avdotya Arefyevna ...