fools, you damned scoundrels! You don't understand a thing,
and poke your noses into an affair like this--a government affair.
Cattle! You ought to thank me, fall on your knees before me for my
goodness! If I were to say so, you would all be put to hard labor."

About a score of peasants stood with bared heads and listened in
silence. It began to grow dusk; the clouds lowered. The blue-eyed
peasant walked up to the steps, and said with a sigh:

"That's the kind of business we have here!"

"Ye-es," the mother rejoined quietly.

He looked at her with an open gaze.

"What's your occupation?" he asked after a pause.

"I buy lace from the women, and linen, too."

The peasant slowly stroked his beard. Then looking up at the town hall
he said gloomily and softly:

"You won't, find anything of that kind here."

The mother looked down on him, and waited for a more suitable moment to
depart for the tavern. The peasant's face was thoughtful and handsome
and his eyes were sad. Broad-shouldered and tall, he was dressed in a
patched-up coat, in a clean chintz shirt, and reddish homespun
trousers. His feet were stockingless.

The mother for some reason drew a sigh of relief, and suddenly obeying
an impulse from within, yielding to an instinct that got the better of
her reason, she surprised herself by asking him:

"Can I stay in your house overnight?"

At the question everything in her muscles, her bones, tightened
stiffly. She straightened herself, holding her breath, and fixed her
eyes on the peasant. Pricking thoughts quickly flashed through her
mind: "I'll ruin everybody--Nikolay Ivanovich, Sonyushka--I'll not see
Pasha for a long time--they'll kill him----"

Looking on the ground, the peasant answered deliberately, folding his
coat over his breast:

"Stay overnight? Yes, you can. Why not? Only my home is very poor!"

"Never mind; I'm not used to luxury," the mother answered
uncalculatingly.

"You can stay with me overnight," the peasant repeated, measuring her
with a searching glance.

It had already grown dark, and in the twilight his eyes shone cold, his
face seemed very pale. The mother looked around, and as if dropping
under distress, she said in an undertone:

"Then I'll go at once, and you'll take my valise."

"All right!" He shrugged his shoulders, again folded his coat and said
softly:

"There goes the wagon!"

In a few moments, after the crowd had begun to disperse, Rybin appe