After that, Afanasy Ivanovich would go back in and, approaching Pulkheria Ivanovna, would say:
'Well, now, Pulkheria Ivanovna, isn't it time we had a little bite of something?'
'What could we have now, Afanasy Ivanovich?-unless it was shortcake with lard, or poppyseed pirozhki, 6 or maybe some pickled mushrooms?'
'Why not the mushrooms, or else the pirozhki?' Afanasy Ivanovich would reply, and a tablecloth with pirozhki and mushrooms would suddenly appear.
An hour before dinner, Afanasy Ivanovich would have another snack, drink an old-fashioned silver cup of vodka, followed by mushrooms, various dried fish, and so on. Dinner was served at twelve noon. Besides platters and sauce boats, there stood on the table a multitude of pots with sealed lids to keep some savory dishes of old- fashioned cookery from losing their flavor. At dinner the conversation was about subjects most closely related to dining.
'It seems to me,' Afanasy Ivanovich would say, 'that this kasha 7 is a wee bit burnt-don't you think so, Pulkheria Ivanovna?'
'No, Afanasy Ivanovich, put more butter on it, then it won't seem burnt, or else pour some mushroom sauce on it.'
'Why not?' Afanasy Ivanovich would say, holding out his plate, 'let's try it and see.'
After dinner Afanasy Ivanovich would have a little hour of rest, after which Pulkheria Ivanovna would bring a sliced watermelon and say:
'Here, Afanasy Ivanovich, taste what a good watermelon it is.'
'Never mind that it's red inside, Pulkheria Ivanovna,' Afanasy Ivanovich would say, accepting a none-too-small slice, 'sometimes it's no good even when it's red.'
But the watermelon would immediately disappear. After that Afanasy Ivanovich would also eat a few pears and go for a walk in the garden with Pulkheria Ivanovna. On returning home, Pulkheria Ivanovna would go about her duties, and he would sit under the gallery roof facing the yard and watch the storehouse ceaselessly revealing and covering its insides, and the serf girls jostling each other, bringing heaps of all sorts of stuff in and out in wooden boxes, sieves, trays, and other containers for fruit. A little later he would send for Pulkheria Ivanovna or go to her himself and say:
'What is there that I might eat, Pulkheria Ivanovna?'
'What is there?' Pulkheria Ivanovna would say, 'unless I go and tell them to bring you some berry dumplings that I asked them to keep specially for you?'
'That's nice,' Afanasy Ivanovich would answer.
'Or maybe you'd like some custard?'
'That's good,' Afanasy Ivanovich would answer. After which it would all be brought at once and duly eaten up.
Before supper Afanasy Ivanovich would again snack on something or other. At nine-thirty supper was served. After supper they would all go to bed again, and a general silence would settle over this active yet quiet little corner. The room in which Afanasy Ivanovich and Pulkheria Ivanovna slept was so hot that it was a rare person who could spend any length of time in it. But on top of that, for even greater warmth, Afanasy Ivanovich slept on the stove, 8 though the intense heat often made him get up several times during the night and pace the room. Sometimes Afanasy Ivanovich groaned as he walked. Then Pulkheria Ivanovna would ask:
'Why are you groaning, Afanasy Ivanovich?'
'God knows, Pulkheria Ivanovna, feels like I've got a bit of a stomachache,' Afanasy Ivanovich would say.
'Hadn't you better eat something, Afanasy Ivanovich?'
'I don't know if that would be good, Pulkheria Ivanovna! Anyhow, what might I eat?'
'Some buttermilk, or stewed dried pears?'
'Why not, just so as to try it?' Afanasy Ivanovich would say.
A sleepy serf girl would go and rummage in the cupboards, and Afanasy Ivanovich would eat a little plateful, after which he usually said:
'There, that feels better.'
Sometimes, when the weather was clear and the rooms were well heated, Afanasy Ivanovich got merry and liked to poke fun at Pulkheria Ivanovna and talk about something different.
'And if our house suddenly caught fire, Pulkheria Ivanovna,' he would say, 'what would we do then?'
'God preserve us from that!' Pulkheria Ivanovna would say, crossing herself.
'Well, but supposing our house caught fire, where would we go then?'
'God knows what you're saying, Afanasy Ivanovich! How could our house burn down? God won't let it.'
'Well, but what if it did burn down?'
'Well, then we'd move into the kitchen wing. You could take the housekeeper's little room for a while.'
'And if the kitchen wing burned down, too?'
'Now, really! God wouldn't permit such a thing as both house and kitchen burning down at once! Well, then we'd have the storehouse till the new house was built.'
'And if the storehouse burns down as well?'
'God knows what you're saying! I don't even want to listen to you! It's a sin to say it, and God punishes that
