ness. I do not now love those others. Formerly I should
have told myself that this is wrong. I should have tormented myself
with the questions: What will become of her, of me, and of Lukashka?
Now I don't care. I do not live my own life, there is something
stronger than me which directs me. I suffer; but formerly I was dead
and only now do I live. Today I will go to their house and tell her
everything.'

Chapter XXXIV

Late that evening, after writing this letter, Olenin went to his hosts'
hut. The old woman was sitting on a bench behind the oven unwinding
cocoons. Maryanka with her head uncovered sat sewing by the light of a
candle. On seeing Olenin she jumped up, took her kerchief and stepped
to the oven. 'Maryanka dear,' said her mother, 'won't you sit here with
me a bit?' 'No, I'm bareheaded,' she replied, and sprang up on the
oven. Olenin could only see a knee, and one of her shapely legs hanging
down from the oven. He treated the old woman to tea. She treated her
guest to clotted cream which she sent Maryanka to fetch. But having put
a plateful on the table Maryanka again sprang on the oven from whence
Olenin felt her eyes upon him. They talked about household matters.
Granny Ulitka became animated and went into raptures of hospitality.
She brought Olenin preserved grapes and a grape tart and some of her
best wine, and pressed him to eat and drink with the rough yet proud
hospitality of country folk, only found among those who produce their
bread by the labour of their own hands. The old woman, who had at first
struck Olenin so much by her rudeness, now often touched him by her
simple tenderness towards her daughter.

'Yes, we need not offend the Lord by grumbling! We have enough of
everything, thank God. We have pressed sufficient CHIKHIR and have
preserved and shall sell three or four barrels of grapes and have
enough left to drink. Don't be in a hurry to leave us. We will make
merry together at the wedding.'

'And when is the wedding to be?' asked Olenin, feeling his blood
suddenly rush to his face while his heart beat irregularly and
painfully.

He heard a movement on the oven and the sound of seeds being cracked.

'Well, you know, it ought to be next week. We are quite ready,' replied
the old woman, as simply and quietly as though Olenin did not exist. 'I
have prepared and have procured everything for Maryanka. We will give
her away properly. Only there's one thing not quite right. Our Lukashka