In this manner a year passed, at the end of which a small incident happened to Gerásim. The old gentlewoman with whom he lived as yard-porter in all things followed the ancient customs, and kept a numerous train of domestics; she had in her house not only laundresses, seamstresses, carpenters, tailors, and dressmakers, but also one saddler, who set up to be a veterinary and a medical man for the servants as well (there was a house-physician for the mistress), and, in conclusion, there was a shoemaker, by the name of Kapíton Klímoff, a bitter drunkard. Klímoff regarded himself as an injured being and not appreciated at his true value, a cultured man used to the ways of the capital, who ought not to live in Moscow, without occupation, in a sort of desert spot, and if he drank,--as he himself expressed it, with pauses between his words, and thumping himself on the breast,--he drank in reality from grief. One day he was under discussion by the mistress and her head butler, Gavríla, a man who would seem, from his little yellow eyes and his duck's-bill nose, to have been designated by Fate itself as a commanding personage. The mistress was complaining about the depraved morals of Kapíton, who had been picked up somewhere in the street only the night before. "Well, Gavríla,"--she suddenly remarked:--"shall not we marry him? What dost thou think about it? Perhaps that will steady him." "Why should n't we marry him, ma'am? It can be done, ma'am,"--replied Gavríla;--"and it would even be a very good thing." "Yes; only who would marry him?" "Of course, ma'am. However, as you like, ma'am. He can always be put to some use, so to speak; you would n't reject him out of any ten men." "I think he likes Tatyána?" Gavríla was about to make some reply, but compressed his lips. "Yes!.... let him woo Tatyána,"--the mistress announced her decision, as she took a pinch of snuff with satisfaction:--"dost hear me?" "I obey, ma'am,"--enunciated Gavríla, and withdrew. On returning to his chamber (it was situated in a wing, and was almost completely filled with wrought-iron coffers), Gavríla first sent away his wife, and then seated himself by the window, and became engrossed in meditation. The mistress's sudden command had evidently dazed him. At last he rose, and ordered Kapíton to be called. Kapíton presented himself.... But before we repeat their conversation to the reader, we consider it not superfluous to state, in a few words, who this Tatyána was, whom Kapíton was to marry, and why his mistress's command had disconcerted the major-domo.