turning anyone out of his house, especially the owner of it?' Naum
added with slow deliberateness.
'Out of his house?' muttered Akim. 'What owner?'
'Me, if you like.'
And Naum screwed up his eyes and showed his white teeth in a grin.
'You? Why, it's my house, isn't it?'
'What a slow-witted fellow you are! I tell you it's mine.'
Akim gazed at him open-eyed.
'What crazy stuff is it you are talking? One would think you had gone
silly,' he said at last. 'How the devil can it be yours?'
'What's the good of talking to you?' cried Naum impatiently. 'Do you
see this bit of paper?' he went on, pulling out of his pocket a sheet
of stamped paper, folded in four, 'do you see? This is the deed of
sale, do you understand, the deed of sale of your land and your house;
I have bought them from the lady, from Lizaveta Prohorovna; the deed
was drawn up at the town yesterday; so I am master here, not you. Pack
your belongings today,' he added, putting the document back in his
pocket, 'and don't let me see a sign of you here to-morrow, do you
hear?'
Akim stood as though struck by a thunderbolt.
'Robber,' he moaned at last, 'robber.... Heigh, Fedka, Mitka, wife,
wife, seize him, seize him--hold him.'
He lost his head completely.
'Mind now, old man,' said Naum menacingly, 'mind what you are about,
don't play the fool....'
'Beat him, wife, beat him!' Akim kept repeating in a tearful voice,
trying helplessly and in vain to get up. 'Murderer, robber.... She is
not enough for you, you want to take my house, too, and everything....
But no, stop a bit ... that can't be.... I'll go myself, I'll speak
myself ... how ... why should she sell it? Wait a bit, wait a bit.'
And he dashed out bareheaded.
'Where are you off to, Akim Ivanitch?' said the servant Fetinya,
running into him in the doorway.
'To our mistress! Let me pass! To our mistress!' wailed Akim, and
seeing Naum's cart which had not yet been taken into the yard, he
jumped into it, snatched the reins and lashing the horse with all his
might set off at full speed to his mistress's house.
'My lady, Lizaveta Prohorovna,' he kept repeating to himself all the
way, 'how have I lost your favour? I should have thought I had done my
best!'
And meantime he kept lashing and lashing the horse. Those who met him
moved out of his way and gazed after him.
In a quarter of an hour Akim had reached Lizaveta Prohorovna's house,
had galloped up to the front door, jumped out of the cart and dashed
straight into the entry.
'What do you want?' muttered the frightened footman who was sleeping
sweetly on the hall bench.
'The mistress, I want to see the mistress,' said Akim loudly.
The footman was amazed.
'Has anything happened?' he began.
'Nothing has happened, but I want to see the mistress.'
'What, what,' said the footman, more and more astonished, and he
slowly drew himself up.
Akim pulled himself up.... He felt as though cold water had been
poured on him.
'Announce to the mistress, please, Pyotr Yevgrafitch,' he said with a
low bow, 'that Akim asks leave to see her.'
'Very good ... I'll go ... I'll tell her ... but you must be drunk,
wait a bit,' grumbled the footman, and he went off.
Akim looked down and seemed confused.... His determination had
evaporated as soon as he went into the hall.
Lizaveta Prohorovna was confused, too, when she was informed that Akim
had come. She immediately summoned Kirillovna to her boudoir.
'I can't see him,' she began hurriedly, as soon as the latter
appeared. 'I absolutely cannot. What am I to say to him? I told you he
