Whatever you and I might say about it would make no
difference, would it?" Akim put his arm behind his back. "You'd better think," Kirillovna went on, "shouldn't you ask the
mistress to let you off your yearly payment or something?" "So my house is lost?" repeated Akim in the same voice. "Akim Semyonitch, I tell you, it's no use. You know that better than
I do." "Yes. Anyway, you might tell me what the house went for?" "I don't know, Akim Semyonitch, I can't tell you.... But why are you
standing?" she added. "Sit down." "I'd rather stand, I am a peasant. I thank you humbly." "You a peasant, Akim Semyonitch? You are as good as a merchant, let
alone a house-serf! What do you mean? Don't distress yourself for
nothing. Won't you have some tea?" "No, thank you, I don't want it. So you have got hold of my house
between you," he added, moving away from the wall. "Thank you for
that. I wish you good-bye, my lady." And he turned and went out. Kirillovna straightened her apron and went
to her mistress. "So I am a merchant, it seems," Akim said to himself, standing before
the gate in hesitation. "A nice merchant!" He waved his hand and
laughed bitterly. "Well, I suppose I had better go home." And entirely forgetting Naum's horse with which he had come, he
trudged along the road to the inn. Before he had gone the first mile
he suddenly heard the rattle of a cart beside him. "Akim, Akim Semyonitch," someone called to him. He raised his eyes and saw a friend of his, the parish clerk, Yefrem,
nicknamed the Mole, a little, bent man with a sharp nose and
dim-sighted eyes. He was sitting on a bundle of straw in a wretched
little cart, and leaning forward against the box. "Are you going home?" he asked Akim. Akim stopped

"Yes." "Shall I give you a lift?" "Please do." Yefrem moved to one side and Akim climbed into the cart. Yefrem, who
seemed to be somewhat exhilarated, began lashing at his wretched
little horse with the ends of his cord reins; it set off at a weary
trot continually tossing its unbridled head. They drove for nearly a mile without saying one word to each other. Akim sat with his head bent while Yefrem muttered to himself,
alternately urging on and holding back his horse. "Where have you been without your cap, Semyonitch?" he asked Akim
suddenly and, without waiting for an answer, went on, "You've left it
at some tavern, that's what you've done. You are a drinking man; I
know you and I like you for it, that you are a drinker; you are not a
murderer, not a rowdy, not one to make trouble; you are a good
manager, but you are a drinker and such a drinker, you ought to have
been pulled up for it long ago, yes, indeed; for it's, a nasty
habit.... Hurrah!" he shouted suddenly at the top of his voice,
"Hurrah! Hurrah!" "Stop! Stop!" a woman's voice sounded close by, "Stop!" Akim looked round. A woman so pale and dishevelled that at first he
did not recognise her, was running across the field towards the cart. "Stop! Stop!" she moaned again, gasping for breath and waving her
arms. Akim started: it was his wife. He snatched up the reins. "What's the good of stopping?" muttered Yefrem. "Stopping for a woman? Gee-up!" But Akim pulled the horse up sharply. At that instant Avdotya ran up
to the road and flung herself down with her face straight in the dust. "Akim Semyonitch," she wailed, "he has turned me out, too!" Akim looked at her and did not stir; he only gripped the reins
tighter. "Hurrah!" Yefrem shouted again. "So he has turned you out?" said Akim. "He has turned me out, Akim Semyonitch, dear," Avdotya answered,
sobbing. "He has turned me out. The house is mine, he said, so you can
go." "Capital! That's a fine thing ... capital," observed Yefrem. "So I suppose you thought to stay on?" Akim brought out bitterly,
still sitting in the cart. "How could I! But, Akim Semyonitch," went on Avdotya, who had raised
her head but let it sink to the earth again, "you don't know, I ...
kill me, Akim Semyonitch, kill me here on the spot." "Why should I kill you, Arefyevna?" said Akim dejectedly, "you've been
your own ruin. What's the use?" "But do you know what, Akim Semyonitch, the money ... your money ...
your money's gone.... Wretched sinner as I am, I took it from under
the floor, I gave it all to him, to that villain Naum.... Why did you
tell me where you hid your money, wretched sinner as I am? ... It's
with your money he has bought the house, the villain." Sobs choked her voice. Akim clutched his head with both hands. "What!" he cried at last, "all the money, too ... the money and the
house, and you did it.... Ah! You took it from under the floor, you
took it.... I'll kill you, you snake in the grass!" And he leapt out
of the cart. "Semyonitch, Semyonitch, don't beat her, don't fight," faltered
Yefrem, on whom this unexpected adventure began to have a sobering
effect. "No, Akim Semyonitch, kill me, wretched sinner as I am; beat me, don't
heed him," cried Avdotya, writhing convulsively at Akim's feet. He stood a moment, looked at her, moved a few steps away and sat down
on the grass beside the road. A brief silence followed. Avdotya turned her head in his direction. "Semyonitch! hey, Semyonitch," began Yefrem, sitting up in the cart,
"give over ... you know ... you won't make things any better. Tfoo,
what a business," he went on as though to himself. "What a damnable
woman.... Go to him," he added, bending down over the side of the cart
to Avdotya, "you see, he's half crazy." Avdotya got up, went nearer to Akim and again fell at his feet. "Akim Semyonitch!" she began, in a faint voice. Akim got up and went back to the cart. She caught at the skirt of his
coat. "Get away!" he shouted savagely, and pushed her off. "Where are you going?" Yefrem asked, seeing that he was getting in
beside him again. "You were going to take me to my home," said Akim, "but take me to
yours ... you see, I have no home now. They have bought mine." "Very well, come to me. And what about her?" Akim made no answer. "And me? Me?" Avdotya repeated with tears, "are you leaving me all
alone? Where am I to go?" "You can go to him," answered Akim, without turning round, "the man
you have given my money to.... Drive on, Yefrem!" Yefrem lashed the horse, the cart rolled off, Avdotya set up a
wail....

Yefrem lived three-quarters of a mile from Akim's inn in a little
house close to the priest's, near the solitary church with five
cupolas which had been recently built by the heirs of a rich merchant
in accordance with the latter's will. Yefrem said nothing to Akim all
the way; he merely shook his head from time to time and uttered such
ejaculations as "Dear, dear!" and "Upon my soul!" Akim sat without
moving, turned a little away from Yefrem. At last they arrived. Yefrem
was the first to get out of the cart. A little girl of six in a smock
tied low round the waist ran out to meet him and shouted,

"Daddy! daddy!" "And where is your mother?" asked Yefrem. "She is asleep in the shed." "Well, let her sleep.