‘Why inquisitive?’ said Pyetushkov, hurriedly gesticulating with his hands. ‘Quite the contrary.... Oh yes, you know,’ he added hastily, as though these last words completely conveyed his meaning. ‘Did you eat my roll?’ ‘To be sure I did,’ replied Pyetushkov: ‘with special enjoyment.’ Vassilissa continued to walk on and to laugh. ‘It’s pleasant weather to-day,’ pursued Ivan Afanasiitch: ‘do you often go out walking?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Ah, how I should like....’ ‘What say?’ The girls in our district utter those words in a very queer way, with a peculiar sharpness and rapidity.... Partridges call at sunset with just that sound. ‘To go out walking, don’t you know, with you ... into the country, or ...’ ‘How can you?’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Ah, upon my word, how you do go on!’ ‘But allow me....’ At this point they were overtaken by a dapper little shopman, with a little goat’s beard, and with his fingers held apart like antlers, so as to keep his sleeves from slipping over his hands, in a long-skirted bluish coat, and a warm cap that resembled a bloated water-melon. Pyetushkov, for propriety’s sake, fell back a little behind Vassilissa, but quickly came up with her again. ‘Well, then, what about our walk?’ Vassilissa looked slily at him and giggled again. ‘Do you belong to these parts?’ ‘Yes.’ Vassilissa passed her hand over her hair and walked a little more slowly. Ivan Afanasiitch smiled, and, his heart inwardly sinking with timidity, he stooped a little on one side and put a trembling arm about the beauty’s waist. Vassilissa uttered a shriek. ‘Give over, do, for shame, in the street.’ ‘Come now, there, there,’ muttered Ivan Afanasiitch. ‘Give over, I tell you, in the street.... Don’t be rude.’ ‘A ... a ... ah, what a girl you are!’ said Pyetushkov reproachfully, while he blushed up to his ears. Vassilissa stood still. ‘Now go along with you, sir--go along, do.’ Pyetushkov obeyed. He got home, and sat for a whole hour without moving from his chair, without even smoking his pipe. At last he took out a sheet of greyish paper, mended a pen, and after long deliberation wrote the following letter. ‘DEAR MADAM, VASSILISSA TIMOFYEVNA!--Being naturally a most inoffensive person, how could I have occasioned you annoyance? If I have really been to blame in my conduct to you, then I must tell you: the hints of Mr. Bublitsyn were responsible for this, which was what I never expected. Anyway, I must humbly beg you not to be angry with me. I am a sensitive man, and any kindness I am most sensible of and grateful for. Do not be angry with me, Vassilissa Timofyevna, I beg you most humbly.--I remain respectfully your obedient servant, IVAN PYETUSHKOV.’ Onisim carried this letter to its address. III A fortnight passed. Onisim went every morning as usual to the baker’s shop. One day Vassilissa ran out to meet him. ‘Good morning, Onisim Sergeitch.’ Onisim put on a gloomy expression, and responded crossly, ‘’Morning.’