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?» … Towards evening, after seeing off the last cart with Akim’s

belongings (Avdotya walked behind it, weeping), he looked all over the

yard, the cellars, sheds, and barns, clambered up into the loft, more

than once instructed his labourers to keep a very, very sharp look-out

and when he was left alone after supper could not go to sleep. It so

happened that day that no visitor stayed at the inn for the night;

this was a great relief to him. «I must certainly buy a dog from the

miller to-morrow, as fierce a one as I can get; they’ve taken theirs

away,» he said to himself, as he tossed from side to side, and all at

once he raised his head quickly … he fancied that someone had passed

by the window … he listened … there was nothing. Only a cricket

from time to time gave a cautious churr, and a mouse was scratching

somewhere; he could hear his own breathing. Everything was still in

the empty room dimly lighted by the little glass lamp which he had

managed to hang up and light before the ikon in the corner…. He let

his head sink; again he thought he heard the gate creak … then a

faint snapping sound from the fence…. He could not refrain from

jumping up; he opened the door of the room and in a low voice called,

«Fyodor! Fyodor!» No one answered…. He went out into the passage and

almost fell over Fyodor, who was lying on the floor. The man stirred

in his sleep with a faint grunt; Naum roused him.

«What’s there? What do you want?» Fyodor began.

«What are you bawling for, hold your tongue!» Naum articulated in a

whisper. «How you sleep, you damned fellows! Have you heard nothing?»

«Nothing,» answered the man…. «What is it?»

«Where are the others sleeping?»

«Where they were told to sleep…. Why, is there anything …»

«Hold your tongue—come with me.»

Naum stealthily opened the door and went out into the yard. It was

very dark outside…. The roofed-in parts and the posts could only be

distinguished because they were a still deeper black in the midst of

the black darkness.

«Shouldn’t we light a lantern?» said Fyodor in a low voice.

But Naum waved his hand and held his breath…. At first he could hear

nothing but those nocturnal sounds which can almost always be heard in

an inhabited place: a horse was munching oats, a pig grunted faintly

in its sleep, a man was snoring somewhere; but all at once his ear

detected a suspicious sound coming from the very end of the yard, near

the fence.

Someone seemed to be stirring there, and breathing or blowing. Naum

looked over his shoulder towards Fyodor and cautiously descending the

steps went towards the sound…. Once or twice he stopped, listened

and stole on further…. Suddenly he started…. Ten paces from him,

in the thick darkness there came the flash of a bright light: it was a

glowing ember and close to it there was visible for an instant the

front part of a face with lips thrust out…. Quickly and silently,

like a cat at a mouse, Naum darted to the fire…. Hurriedly rising up

from the ground a long body rushed to meet him and, nearly knocking

him off his feet, almost eluded his grasp; but Naum hung on to it with

all his strength.

«Fyodor! Andrey! Petrushka!» he shouted at the top of his voice. «Make

haste! here! here! I’ve caught a thief trying to set fire to the

place….»

The man whom he had caught fought and struggled violently … but Naum

did not let him go. Fyodor at once ran to his