The thread broke and the beads were scattered all over the floor, the green kerchief slipped off, and Lyubka was transformed into a red cloud flitting by and flashing black eyes, and it seemed as though in another second Merik's arms and legs would drop off.
But finally Merik stamped for the last time, and stood still as though turned to stone. Exhausted and almost breathless, Lyubka sank on to his bosom and leaned against him as against a post, and he put his arms round her, and looking into her eyes, said tenderly and caressingly, as though in jest:
'I'll find out where your old mother's money is hidden, I'll murder her and cut your little throat for you, and after that I will set fire to the inn. . . . People will think you have perished in the fire, and with your money I shall go to Kuban. I'll keep droves of horses and flocks of sheep. . . .'
Lyubka made no answer, but only looked at him with a guilty air, and asked:
'And is it nice in Kuban, Merik?'
He said nothing, but went to the chest, sat down, and sank into thought; most likely he was dreaming of Kuban.
'It's time for me to be going,' said Kalashnikov, getting up. 'Filya must be waiting for me. Goodbye, Lyuba.'
Yergunov went out into the yard to see that Kalashnikov did not go off with his horse. The snowstorm still persisted. White clouds were floating about the yard, their long tails clinging to the rough grass and the bushes, while on the other side of the fence in the open country huge giants in white robes with wide sleeves were whirling round and falling to the ground, and getting up again to wave their arms and fight. And the wind, the wind! The bare birches and cherry-trees, unable to endure its rude caresses, bowed low down to the ground and wailed: 'God, for what sin hast Thou bound us to the earth and will not let us go free?'
'Wo!' said Kalashnikov sternly, and he got on his horse; one half of the gate was opened, and by it lay a high snowdrift. 'Well, get on!' shouted Kalashnikov. His little short-legged nag set off, and sank up to its stomach in the drift at once. Kalashnikov was white all over with the snow, and soon vanished from sight with his horse.
When Yergunov went back into the room, Lyubka was creeping about the floor picking up her beads; Merik was not there.
'A splendid girl!' thought Yergunov, as he lay down on the bench and put his coat under his head. 'Oh, if only Merik were not here.' Lyubka excited him as she crept about the floor by the bench, and he thought that if Merik had not been there he would certainly have got up and embraced her, and then one would see what would happen. It was true she was only a girl, but not likely to be chaste; and even if she were -- need one stand on ceremony in a den of thieves? Lyubka collected her beads and went out. The candle burnt down and the flame caught the paper in the candlestick. Yergunov laid his revolver and matches beside him, and put out the candle. The light before the holy images flickered so much that it hurt his eyes, and patches of light danced on the ceiling, on the floor, and on the cupboard, and among them he had visions of Lyubka, buxom, full-bosomed: now she was turning round like a top, now she was exhausted and breathless. . . .
'Oh, if the devils would carry off that Merik,' he thought.
The little lamp gave a last flicker, spluttered, and went out. Someone, it must have been Merik, came into the room and sat down on the bench. He puffed at his pipe, and for an instant lighted up a dark cheek with a patch on it. Yergunov's throat was irritated by the horrible fumes of the tobacco smoke.
'What filthy tobacco you have got -- damnation take it!' said Yergunov. 'It makes me positively sick.'
'I mix my tobacco with the flowers of the oats,' answered Merik after a pause. 'It is better for the chest.'
He smoked, spat, and went out again. Half an hour passed, and all at once there was the gleam of a light in the passage. Merik appeared in a coat and cap, then Lyubka with a candle in her hand.
'Do stay, Merik,' said Lyubka in an imploring voice.
'No, Lyuba, don't keep me.'
'Listen, Merik,' said Lyubka, and her voice grew soft and tender. 'I know you will find mother's money, and will do for her and for me, and will go to Kuban and love other girls; but God be with you. I only ask you one thing, sweetheart: do stay!'
'No, I want some fun . . .' said Merik, fastening his belt.
'But you have nothing to go on. . . . You came on foot; what are you going on?'
Merik bent down to Lyubka and whispered something in her ear; she looked towards the door and laughed through her tears.
'He is asleep, the puffed-up devil . . .' she said.
Merik embraced her, kissed her vigorously, and went out. Yergunov thrust his revolver into his pocket, jumped up, and ran after him.
'Get out of the way!' he said to Lyubka, who hurriedly bolted the door of the entry and stood across the threshold. 'Let me pass! Why are you standing here?'
'What do you want to go out for?'
'To have a look at my horse.'
Lyubka gazed up at him with a sly and caressing look.
'Why look at it? You had better look at me . . . .' she said, then she bent down and touched with her finger the gilt watch-key that hung on his chain.
'Let me pass, or he will go off on my horse,' said Yergunov. 'Let me go, you devil!' he shouted, and giving her an angry blow on the shoulder, he pressed his chest against her with all his might to push her away from the door, but she kept tight hold of the bolt, and was like iron.
'Let me go!' he shouted, exhausted; 'he will go off with it, I tell you.'
'Why should he? He won't.' Breathing hard and rubbing her shoulder, which hurt, she looked up at him again, flushed a little and laughed. 'Don't go away, dear heart,' she said; 'I am dull alone.'
