Poor Pyetushkov felt a pang at his heart. Praskovia Ivanovna came in. They sat down to dinner. After dinner Praskovia Ivanovna betook herself to the shelf bed. Ivan Afanasiitch himself lay down on the stove, turned over and dropped asleep. A cautious creak waked him. Ivan Afanasiitch sat up, leaned on his elbow, looked: the door was open. He jumped up--no Vassilissa. He ran into the yard--she was not in the yard; into the street, looked up and down--Vassilissa was nowhere to be seen. He ran without his cap as far as the market--no, Vassilissa was not in sight. Slowly he returned to the baker’s shop, clambered on to the stove, and turned with his face to the wall. He felt miserable. Bublitsyn ... Bublitsyn ... the name was positively ringing in his ears. ‘What’s the matter, my good sir?’ Praskovia Ivanovna asked him in a drowsy voice. ‘Why are you groaning?’ ‘Oh, nothing, ma’am. Nothing. I feel a weight oppressing me.’ ‘It’s the mushrooms,’ murmured Praskovia Ivanovna--‘it’s all those mushrooms.’ O Lord, have mercy on us sinners! An hour passed, a second--still no Vassilissa. Twenty times Pyetushkov was on the point of getting up, and twenty times he huddled miserably under the sheepskin.... At last he really did get down from the stove and determined to go home, and positively went out into the yard, but came back. Praskovia Ivanovna got up. The hired man, Luka, black as a beetle, though he was a baker, put the bread into the oven. Pyetushkov went again out on to the steps and pondered. The goat that lived in the yard went up to him, and gave him a little friendly poke with his horns. Pyetushkov looked at him, and for some unknown reason said ‘Kss, Kss.’ Suddenly the low wicket-gate slowly opened and Vassilissa appeared. Ivan Afanasiitch went straight to meet her, took her by the hand, and rather coolly, but resolutely, said to her: ‘Come along with me.’ ‘But, excuse me, Ivan Afanasiitch ... I ...’ ‘Come with me,’ he repeated. She obeyed. Pyetushkov led her to his lodgings. Onisim, as usual, was lying at full length asleep. Ivan Afanasiitch waked him, told him to light a candle. Vassilissa went to the window and sat down in silence. While Onisim was busy getting a light in the anteroom, Pyetushkov stood motionless at the other window, staring into the street. Onisim came in, with the candle in his hands, was beginning to grumble ... Ivan Afanasiitch turned quickly round: ‘Go along,’ he said to him. Onisim stood still in the middle of the room. ‘Go away at once,’ Pyetushkov repeated threateningly. Onisim looked at his master and went out. Ivan Afanasiitch shouted after him: ‘Away, quite away. Out of the house. You can come back in two hours’ time.’ Onisim slouched off. Pyetushkov waited till he heard the gate bang, and at once went up to Vassilissa. ‘Where have you been?’ Vassilissa was confused. ‘Where have you been? I tell you,’ he repeated. Vassilissa looked round ...