Avdotya certainly did not appreciate Akim's eloquence and often in the
evenings when he indulged in conversation with travellers or fell to
telling stories she stealthily yawned or went out of the room. Akim
looked at the closed door. 'Once you begin talking,' he repeated in an
undertone.... 'The fact is, I have not talked enough to you. And who
is it? A peasant like any one of us, and what's more....' And he got
up, thought a little and tapped the back of his head with his fist.
Several days passed in a rather strange way. Akim kept looking at his
wife as though he were preparing to say something to her, and she, for
her part, looked at him suspiciously; meanwhile, they both preserved a
strained silence. This silence, however, was broken from time to time
by some peevish remark from Akim in regard to some oversight in the
housekeeping or in regard to women in general. For the most part
Avdotya did not answer one word. But in spite of Akim's good-natured
weakness, it certainly would have come to a decisive explanation
between him and Avdotya, if it had not been for an event which
rendered any explanation useless.
One morning Akim and wife were just beginning lunch (owing to the
summer work in the fields there were no travellers at the inn) when
suddenly a cart rattled briskly along the road and pulled up sharply
at the front door. Akim peeped out of window, frowned and looked down:
Naum got deliberately out of the cart. Avdotya had not seen him, but
when she heard his voice in the entry the spoon trembled in her hand.
He told the labourers to put up the horse in the yard. At last the
door opened and he walked into the room.
'Good-day,' he said, and took off his cap.
'Good-day,' Akim repeated through his teeth. 'Where has God brought
you from?'
'I was in the neighbourhood,' replied Naum, and he sat down on the
bench. 'I have come from your lady.'
'From the lady,' said Akim, not getting up from his seat. 'On
business, eh?'
'Yes, on business. My respects to you, Avdotya Arefyevona.'
'Good morning, Naum Ivanitch,' she answered. All were silent.
'What have you got, broth, is it?' began Naum.
'Yes, broth,' replied Akim and all at once he turned pale, 'but not
for you.'
Naum glanced at Akim with surprise.
'Not for me?'
'Not for you, and that's all about it.' Akim's eyes glittered and he
brought his fist on the table. 'There is nothing in my house for you,
do you hear?'
'What's this, Semyonitch, what is the matter with you?'
'There's nothing the matter with me, but I am sick of you, Naum
Ivanitch, that's what it is.' The old man got up, trembling all over.
'You poke yourself in here too often, I tell you.'
Naum, too, got up.
'You've gone clean off your head, old man,' he said with a jeer.
'Avdotya Arefyevna, what's wrong with him?'
'I tell you,' shouted Akim in a cracked voice, 'go away, do you
hear? ... You have nothing to do with Avdotya Arefyevna ... I tell
you, do you hear, get out!'
'What's that you are saying to me?' Naum asked significantly.
'Go out of the house, that's what I am telling to you. Here's God and
here's the door ... do you understand? Or there will be trouble.'
Naum took a step forward.
'Good gracious, don't fight, my dears,' faltered Avdotya, who till
then had sat motionless at the table.
Naum glanced at her.
'Don't be uneasy, Avdotya Arefyevna, why should we fight? Fie,
brother, what a hullabaloo you are making!' he went on, addressing
Akim. 'Yes, really. You are a hasty one! Has anyone ever heard of
