"She cannot,"--he repeated, and paused for a space.--"Then how is it to be,"--he said at last;--"that means that I must lose my house?"
"Hearken, Akím Semyónitch. I know that you have always been a reasonable man. This is the mistress's will. And it cannot be changed. You cannot alter it. There is nothing for you and me to discuss, for it will lead to no result. Is n't that so?"
"But you had better consider,"--went on Kiríllovna,--"whether you ought not to ask the mistress to remit your quit-rent, had n't you?..."
"That means that I must lose the house,"--repeated Akím, in the same tone as before.
"Akím Semyónitch, I 've told you already 't is impossible to change that. You know that yourself even better than I do."
"Yes. But tell me, at any rate, how much my inn sold for?"
"I don't know that, Akím Semyónitch; I can't tell you.... But why do you stand there?"--she added.--"Sit down...."
"I 'll stand as I am, ma'am. I 'm a peasant. I thank you humbly."
"Why do you say that you are a peasant, Akím Semyónitch? You are the same as a merchant; you cannot be compared even with the house-serfs; why do you say that? Don't decry yourself without cause. Won't you have some tea?"
"No, thanks; I don't require it. And so my dear little house has become your property,"--he added, quitting the wall.--"Thanks for that, also. I will bid you good day, my little madam."
Thereupon he wheeled round, and left the room. Kiríllovna smoothed down her apron, and betook herself to her mistress.
"So it appears that I actually have become a merchant,"--said Akím to himself, as he paused in thought before the gate.--"A fine merchant!" He waved his hand and laughed a bitter laugh.--"Well, I might as well go home!"
And utterly oblivious of Naúm's horse, which he had driven thither, he trudged along the road to the inn. Before he had covered the first verst, he heard the rattle of a cart alongside of him.
"Akím, Akím Semyónitch!"--some one called to him.
He raised his eyes and beheld his acquaintance, the chanter of the parish church, Efrém, nicknamed "The Mole," a small, round-shouldered man, with a sharp-pointed little nose, and purblind eyes. He was sitting in a rickety little cart on a whisp of straw, with his breast leaning on the driver's seat.