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‘What’s the matter, my good sir?’ Praskovia Ivanovna asked him in a drowsy voice. ‘Why are you groaning?’

‘Oh, nothing, ma’am. Nothing. I feel a weight oppressing me.’

‘It’s the mushrooms,’ murmured Praskovia Ivanovna–‘it’s all those mushrooms.’

O Lord, have mercy on us sinners!

An hour passed, a second–still no Vassilissa. Twenty times Pyetushkov was on the point of getting up, and twenty times he huddled miserably under the sheepskin…. At last he really did get down from the stove and determined to go home, and positively went out into the yard, but came back. Praskovia Ivanovna got up. The hired man, Luka, black as a beetle, though he was a baker, put the bread into the oven. Pyetushkov went again out on to the steps and pondered. The goat that lived in the yard went up to him, and gave him a little friendly poke with his horns. Pyetushkov looked at him, and for some unknown reason said ‘Kss, Kss.’ Suddenly the low wicket-gate slowly opened and Vassilissa appeared. Ivan Afanasiitch went straight to meet her, took her by the hand, and rather coolly, but resolutely, said to her:

‘Come along with me.’

‘But, excuse me, Ivan Afanasiitch … I …’

‘Come with me,’ he repeated.

She obeyed.

Pyetushkov led her to his lodgings. Onisim, as usual, was lying at full length asleep. Ivan Afanasiitch waked him, told him to light a candle. Vassilissa went to the window and sat down in silence. While Onisim was busy getting a light in the anteroom, Pyetushkov stood motionless at the other window, staring into the street. Onisim came in, with the candle in his hands, was beginning to grumble … Ivan Afanasiitch turned quickly round: ‘Go along,’ he said to him.

Onisim stood still in the middle of the room.

‘Go away at once,’ Pyetushkov repeated threateningly.

Onisim looked at his master and went out.

Ivan Afanasiitch shouted after him:

‘Away, quite away. Out of the house. You can come back in two hours’ time.’

Onisim slouched off.

Pyetushkov waited till he heard the gate bang, and at once went up to Vassilissa.

‘Where have you been?’

Vassilissa was confused.

‘Where have you been? I tell you,’ he repeated.

Vassilissa looked round …

‘I am speaking to you … where have you been?’ And Pyetushkov raised his arm …

‘Don’t beat me, Ivan Afanasiitch, don’t beat me,’ Vassilissa whispered in terror.

Pyetushkov turned away.

‘Beat you … No! I’m not going to beat you. Beat you? I beg your pardon, my darling. God bless you! While I supposed you loved me, while I … I … ‘

Ivan Afanasiitch broke off. He gasped for breath.

‘Listen, Vassilissa,’ he said at last. ‘You know I’m a kind-hearted man, you know it, don’t you, Vassilissa, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do,’ she said faltering.

‘I do nobody any harm, nobody, nobody in the world. And I deceive nobody. Why are you deceiving me?’

‘But I’m not deceiving you, Ivan Afanasiitch.’

‘You aren’t deceiving me? Oh, very well! Oh, very well! Then tell me where you’ve been.’

‘I went to see Matrona.’

‘That’s a lie!’

‘Really, I’ve been at Matrona’s. You ask her, if you don’t believe me.’

‘And Bub–what’s his name … have you seen that devil?’

‘Yes, I did see him.’

‘You did see him! you did see him! Oh! you did see him!’

Pyetushkov turned pale.

‘So you were making an appointment with him in the morning at the window–eh? eh?’

‘He asked me to come.’

‘And so you went…. Thanks very much, my girl, thanks very much!’ Pyetushkov made Vassilissa a low bow.

‘But, Ivan Afanasiitch, you’re maybe fancying …’

‘You’d better not talk to me! And a pretty fool I am! There’s nothing to make an outcry for! You may make friends with any one you like. I’ve nothing to do with you. So there! I don’t want to know you even.’

Vassilissa got up.

‘That’s for you to say, Ivan Afanasiitch.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Why, you yourself …’

‘I’m not sending you away,’ Pyetushkov interrupted her.

‘Oh no, Ivan Afanasiitch…. What’s the use of my stopping here?’

Pyetushkov let her get as far as the door.

‘So you’re going, Vassilissa?’