‘I’m coming, Evlampia Martinovna, directly!’ shouted Sletkin. ‘Martin Petrovitch himself agrees with us now,’ he went on, turning again to me. ‘At first he was offended, certainly, and even grumbled, until, you know, he realised; he was, you remember, a hot-tempered violent man--more’s the pity! but there, he’s grown quite meek now. Because he sees his own interest. Your mamma--mercy on us! how she pitched into me!… To be sure: she’s a lady that sets as much store by her own authority as Martin Petrovitch used to do. But you come in and see for yourself. And you might put in a word when there’s an opportunity. I feel Natalia Nikolaevna’s bounty to me deeply. But we’ve got to live too.’ ‘And how was it Zhitkov was refused?’ I asked. ‘Fedulitch? That dolt?’ Sletkin shrugged his shoulders. ‘Why, upon my word, what use could he have been? His whole life spent among soldiers--and now he has a fancy to take up farming. He can keep the peasants up to the mark, says he, because he’s been used to knocking men about. He can do nothing; even knocking men about wants some sense. Evlampia Martinovna refused him herself. He was a quite unsuitable person. All our farming would have gone to ruin with him!’ ‘Coo--y!’ sounded Evlampia’s musical voice. ‘Coming! coming!’ Sletkin called back. He held out his hand to me. Though unwillingly, I took it. ‘I beg to take leave, Dmitri Semyonovitch,’ said Sletkin, showing all his white teeth. ‘Shoot wild snipe as much as you like. It’s wild game, belonging to no one. But if you come across a hare--you spare it; that game is ours. Oh, and something else! won’t you be having pups from your bitch? I should be obliged for one!’ ‘Coo--y!’ Evlampia’s voice rang out again. ‘Coo--y!’ Sletkin responded, and rushed into the bushes. XIX