ndeed! The manager says that the workmen are coming in a
fortnight: everything is to be torn out. 'Move,' says he, 'either
to-morrow or day after to-morrow.'"

"Eh--eh--eh--that's too short notice: to-morrow? See here, what next?
How would this minute suit? But don't you dare speak a word to me about
apartments. I have already told you that once, and here you are again.
Do you hear?"

"But what shall I do?" demanded Zakhar.

"What shall you do? Now how is he going to get rid of me?" replied Ilya
Ilyitch. "He makes me responsible! How does it concern me? Don't you
trouble me any further, but make any arrangements you please, only so
that we don't have to move yet. Can't you do your best for your master?"

"But Ilya Ilyitch, little father [batiushka], what arrangements shall I
make?" began Zakhar in a hoarse whisper. "The house is not mine; how can
we help being driven out of the place if they resort to force? If only
the house were mine, then I would with the greatest pleasure--"

"There must be some way of bringing him around: tell him we have lived
here so long; tell him we'll surely pay him."

"I have," said Zakhar.

"Well, what did he say?"

"What did he say? He repeated his everlasting 'Move out,' says he; 'we
want to make repairs on the apartment.' He wants to do over this large
apartment and the doctor's for the wedding of the owner's son."

"Oh, my good Lord!" exclaimed Oblomof in despair; "what asses they are
to get married!"

He turned over on his back.

"You had better write to the owner, sir," said Zakhar. "Then perhaps he
would not drive us out, but would give us a renewal of the lease."

Zakhar as he said this made a gesture with his right hand.

"Very well, then; as soon as I get up I will write him. You go to your
room and I will think it over. You need not do anything about this," he
added; "I myself shall have to work at all this miserable business
myself."

Zakhar left the room, and Oblomof began to ponder.

But he was in a quandary which to think about,--his starosta's letter,
or the removal to new lodgings, or should he undertake to make out his
accounts? He was soon swallowed up in the flood of material cares and
troubles, and there he still lay turning from side to side. Every once
in a while would be heard his broken exclamation, "Akh, my God! life
touches everything, reaches everywhere!"

No one knows how long he would have lain there a prey to this
uncertainty, had not the be