as he had never fallen in love before. He saw her first at church: she
had only just come back from Moscow.... Afterwards, he met her several
times in his mistress's house; finally he spent a whole evening with
her at the steward's, where he had been invited to tea in company with
other highly respected persons. The house serfs did not disdain him,
though he was not of their class and wore a beard; he was a man of
education, could read and write and, what was more, had money; and he
did not dress like a peasant but wore a long full coat of black cloth,
high boots of calf leather and a kerchief on his neck. It is true that
some of the house serfs did say among themselves that: 'One can see
that he is not one of us,' but to his face they almost flattered him.
On that evening at the steward's Dunyasha made a complete conquest of
Akim's susceptible heart, though she said not a single word in answer
to his ingratiating speeches and only looked sideways at him from time
to time as though wondering why that peasant was there. All that only
added fuel to the flames. He went home, pondered and pondered and made
up his mind to win her hand.... She had somehow 'bewitched' him. But
how can I describe the wrath and indignation of Dunyasha when five
days later Kirillovna with a friendly air invited her into her room
and told her that Akim (and evidently he knew how to set to work) that
bearded peasant Akim, to sit by whose side she considered almost an
indignity, was courting her.
Dunyasha first flushed crimson, then she gave a forced laugh, then she
burst into tears; but Kirillovna made her attack so artfully, made the
girl feel her own position in the house so clearly, so tactfully
hinted at the presentable appearance, the wealth and blind devotion of
Akim and finally mentioned so significantly the wishes of their
mistress that Dunyasha went out of the room with a look of hesitation
on her face and meeting Akim only gazed intently into his face and did
not turn away. The indescribably lavish presents of the love-sick man
dissipated her last doubts. Lizaveta Prohorovna, to whom Akim in his
joy took a hundred peaches on a large silver dish, gave her consent to
the marriage, and the marriage took place. Akim spared no expense--and
the bride, who on the eve of her wedding at her farewell party to her
girl friends sat looking a figure of misery, and who cried all the
next morning while Kirillovna was dressing her for the wedding, was
soon comforted.... Her mistress gave her her own shawl to wear in the
church and Akim presented her the same day with one like it, almost
superior.
And so Akim was married, and took his young bride home.... They began
their life together.... Dunyasha turned out to be a poor housewife, a
poor helpmate to her husband. She took no interest in anything, was
melancholy and depressed unless some officer sitting by the big
samovar noticed her and paid her compliments; she was often absent,
sometimes in the town shopping, sometimes at the mistress's house,
which was only three miles from the inn. There she felt at home, there
she was surrounded by her own people; the girls envied her finery.
Kirillovna regaled her with tea; Lizaveta Prohorovna herself talked to
her. But even these visits did not pass without some bitter
experiences for Dunyasha.... As an innkeeper's wife, for instance, she
could not wear a hat and was obliged to tie up her head in a kerchief,
