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And Mr. Zvyerkov, without finishing his sentence, turned away his head, and, wrapping himself more closely into his cloak, manfully repressed his involuntary emotion. The reader now probably understands why I looked with sympathetic interest at Arina.

"Have you long been married to the miller?" I asked her at last.

"Two years. "

"How was it? Did your master allow it?"

"They bought my freedom. "

"Who?"

"Savely Alexeyevich. "

"Who is that?"

"My husband. " (Yermolai smiled to himself. ) "Has my master perhaps spoken to you of me?" added Arina, after a brief silence.

I did not know what reply to make to her question.

"Arina!" cried the miller from a distance. She got up and walked away.

"Is her husband a good fellow?" I asked Yermolai.

"So-so. "

"Have they any children?"

"There was one, but it died. "

"How was it? Did the miller take a liking to her? Did he give much to buy her freedom?"

"I don't know. She can read and write; in their business it's of use. I suppose he liked her. "

"And have you known her long?"

"Yes. I used to go to her master's. Their house isn't far from here. "

"And do you know the footman Petrushka?"

"You mean Pyotr Vasilyevich? Of course, I knew him. "

"Where is he now?"

"He was sent for a soldier. "

We were silent for a while.

"She doesn't seem well?" I asked Yermolai at last.

"I should think not! Tomorrow, I say, we shall have good sport. A little sleep now would do us no harm. "

A flock of wild ducks swept whizzing over our heads, and we heard them drop down into the river not far from us. It was now quite dark, and it began to be cold; in the thicket sounded the melodious notes of a nightingale. We buried ourselves in the hay and fell asleep.