And Naúm screwed up his eyes, and displayed his white teeth in a grin. "Thee, forsooth? Ain't I the master of the house?" "What a stupid fellow thou art, my good fellow.--I am the master of the house, I tell thee." Akím opened his eyes to their widest. "What nonsense is that thou art prating, as though thou hadst eaten mad-wort?"--he said at last.--"How the devil dost thou come to be the master?" "Well, what 's the use of talking to thee,"--shouted Naúm, impatiently.--"Dost see this document,"--he added, jerking out of his pocket a sheet of stamped paper folded in four:--"dost see it? This is a deed of sale, understand, a deed of sale for thy land, and for the inn; I have bought them from the landed proprietress, Lizavéta Prókhorovna. We signed the deed of sale yesterday, in B***--consequently, I am the master here, not thou. Gather up thy duds this very day,"--he added, putting the paper back in his pocket;--"and let there be not a sign of thee here by to-morrow; hearest thou?" Akím stood as though he had been struck by lightning. "Brigand!"--he moaned at last;--"the brigand... Hey, Fédka, Mítka, wife, wife, seize him, seize him--hold him!" He had completely lost his wits. "Look out, look out,"--ejaculated Naúm, menacingly:--"look out, old man, don't play the fool...." "But beat him, beat him, wife!"--Akím kept repeating in a tearful voice, vainly and impotently trying to leave his place.--"The soul-ruiner, the brigand... She was n't enough for thee ... thou wantest to take my house away from me also, and everything.... But no, stay .... that cannot be.... I will go myself. I will tell her myself ... how .... but why sell?... Stop .... stop...." And he rushed hatless into the street. "Whither art thou running, Akím Ivánitch, whither art thou running, dear little father?"--cried the maid-servant Fetínya, who collided with him in the doorway. "To the mistress! let me go! To the mistress...." roared Akím, and catching sight of Naúm's cart, which the servants had not yet had time to put in the stable-yard, he sprang into it, seized the reins, and lashing the horse with all his might, he set off at a gallop to the lady's manor-house. "Dear little mother, Lizavéta Prókhorovna,"--he kept repeating to himself all the way,--"why such unkindness? I have shown zeal, methinks!" And, in the meantime, he kept on beating the horse. Those who met him drew aside and gazed long after him. In a quarter of an hour Akím had reached Lizavéta Prókhorovna's manor, had dashed up to the porch, had leaped from the cart, and burst straight into the anteroom. "What dost thou want?"--muttered the startled footman, who was sweetly dozing on the locker. "The mistress--I must see the mistress," vociferated Akím loudly. The lackey was astounded. "Has anything happened?"--he began. "Nothing has happened, but I must see the mistress." "What, what?"--said the lackey, more and more astounded, straightening himself up.