And do you see what's a matter for wonder again; the master even bows to them and looks graciously at them; but he seems to turn their stomachs with fright! 'What do you say to such a strange state of things, your honour? Either I have grown stupid in my old age, or something.... I can't understand it.' I said to Ovsyanikov that Mr. Lubozvonov must certainly be ill. 'Ill, indeed! He's as broad as he's long, and a face like this--God bless him!--and bearded, though he is so young.... Well, God knows!' And Ovsyanikov gave a deep sigh. 'Come, putting the nobles aside,' I began, 'what have you to tell me about the peasant proprietors, Luka Petrovitch?' 'No, you must let me off that,' he said hurriedly. 'Truly.... I could tell you ... but what's the use!' (with a wave of his hand). 'We had better have some tea.... We are common peasants and nothing more; but when we come to think of it, what else could we be?' He ceased talking. Tea was served. Tatyana Ilyinitchna rose from her place and sat down rather nearer to us. In the course of the evening she several times went noiselessly out and as quietly returned. Silence reigned in the room. Ovsyanikov drank cup after cup with gravity and deliberation. 'Mitya has been to see us to-day,' said Tatyana Ilyinitchna in a low voice. Ovsyanikov frowned. 'What does he want?' 'He came to ask forgiveness.' Ovsyanikov shook his head. 'Come, tell me,' he went on, turning to me, 'what is one to do with relations? And to abandon them altogether is impossible.... Here God has bestowed on me a nephew. He's a fellow with brains--a smart fellow--I don't dispute that; he has had a good education, but I don't expect much good to come of him. He went into a government office; threw up his position--didn't get on fast enough, if you please.... Does he suppose he's a noble? And even noblemen don't come to be generals all at once. So now he is living without an occupation.... And that, even, would not be such a great matter--except that he has taken to litigation! He gets up petitions for the peasants, writes memorials; he instructs the village delegates, drags the surveyors over the coals, frequents drinking houses, is seen in taverns with city tradesmen and inn-keepers. He's bound to come to ruin before long. The constables and police-captains have threatened him more than once already. But he luckily knows how to turn it off--he makes them laugh; but they will boil his kettle for him some day.... But, there, isn't he sitting in your little room?' he added, turning to his wife; 'I know you, you see; you're so soft-hearted--you will always take his part.' Tatyana Ilyinitchna dropped her eyes, smiled, and blushed. 'Well, I see it is so,' continued Ovsyanikov. 'Fie! you spoil the boy! Well, tell him to come in.... So be it, then; for the sake of our good guest I will forgive the silly fellow.... Come, tell him, tell him.' Tatyana Ilyinitchna went to the door, and cried 'Mitya!'