“Tell me, who is that young woman?” asked Olénin, pointing to Maryánka, who was passing the window. The old man winked and nudged the young man with his elbow. “Wait a bit,” said he and reached out of the window. “Khm,” he coughed, and bellowed, “Maryánka dear. Hallo, Maryánka, my girlie, won’t you love me, darling? I’m a wag,” he added in a whisper to Olénin. The girl, not turning her head and swinging her arms regularly and vigorously, passed the window with the peculiarly smart and bold gait of a Cossack woman and only turned her dark shaded eyes slowly towards the old man. “Love me and you’ll be happy,” shouted Eróshka, winking, and he looked questioningly at the cadet. “I’m a fine fellow, I’m a wag!” he added. “She’s a regular queen, that girl. Eh?” “She is lovely,” said Olénin. “Call her here!” “No, no,” said the old man. “For that one a match is being arranged with Lukáshka, Luke, a fine Cossack, a brave, who killed an _abrek_ the other day. I’ll find you a better one. I’ll find you one that will be all dressed up in silk and silver. Once I’ve said it I’ll do it. I’ll get you a regular beauty!” “You, an old man—and say such things,” replied Olénin. “Why, it’s a sin!” “A sin? Where’s the sin?” said the old man emphatically. “A sin to look at a nice girl? A sin to have some fun with her? Or is it a sin to love her? Is that so in your parts? ... No, my dear fellow, it’s not a sin, it’s salvation! God made you and God made the girl too. He made it all; so it is no sin to look at a nice girl. That’s what she was made for; to be loved and to give joy. That’s how I judge it, my good fellow.” Having crossed the yard and entered a cool dark storeroom filled with barrels, Maryánka went up to one of them and repeating the usual prayer plunged a dipper into it. Vanyúsha standing in the doorway smiled as he looked at her. He thought it very funny that she had only a smock on, close-fitting behind and tucked up in front, and still funnier that she wore a necklace of silver coins. He thought this quite un-Russian and that they would all laugh in the serfs’ quarters at home if they saw a girl like that. “_La fille comme c’est tres bien_, for a change,” he thought. “I’ll tell that to my master.” “What are you standing in the light for, you devil!” the girl suddenly shouted. “Why don’t you pass me the decanter!” Having filled the decanter with cool red wine, Maryánka handed it to Vanyúsha. “Give the money to Mother,” she said, pushing away the hand in which he held the money. Vanyúsha laughed. “Why are you so cross, little dear?” he said good-naturedly, irresolutely shuffling with his feet while the girl was covering the barrel. She began to laugh. “And you! Are you kind?” “We, my master and I, are very kind,” Vanyúsha answered decidedly. “We are so kind that wherever we have stayed our hosts were always very grateful. It’s because he’s generous.” The girl stood listening. “And is your master married?” she asked.