He raised his eyes and beheld his acquaintance, the chanter of the parish church, Efrém, nicknamed "The Mole," a small, round-shouldered man, with a sharp-pointed little nose, and purblind eyes. He was sitting in a rickety little cart on a whisp of straw, with his breast leaning on the driver's seat. "Art thou on thy way home, pray?"--he asked Akím. Akím halted. "Yes." "I 'll drive you there,--shall I?" "All right, do." Efrém moved aside, and Akím clambered into the cart. Efrém, who was jolly with drink, it appeared, set to lashing his miserable little nag with the ends of his rope reins; the horse advanced at a weary trot, incessantly twitching her unbridled muzzle. They drove about a verst, without saying one word to each other. Akím sat with bowed head, and Efrém merely mumbled something to himself, now stimulating the horse to greater speed, now reining it in. "Whither hast thou been without a hat, Semyónitch?"--he suddenly asked Akím, and, without waiting for a reply, he went on in an undertone:--"thou hast left it in a nice little dram-shop, that 's what. Thou 'rt a tippler; I know thee, and I love thee because thou art a tippler--'t was high time, long ago, to place thee under ecclesiastical censure, God is my witness; because 't is a bad business.... Hurrah!"--he shouted suddenly, at the top of his lungs,--"hurrah! hurrah!" "Halt! halt!"--rang out a woman's voice close at hand.--"Halt!" Akím glanced round. Across the fields, in the direction of the cart, a woman was running, so pale and dishevelled that he did not recognise her at first. "Halt, halt!"--she moaned again, panting and waving her arms. Akím shuddered: it was his wife. He seized the reins. "And why should we halt?"--muttered Efrém;--"why should we halt for a female? Get u-uup!" But Akím jerked the horse abruptly on its haunches. At that moment Avdótya reached the road, and fairly tumbled headlong, face downward, in the dust. "Dear little father, Akím Semyónitch,"--she shrieked;--"he has actually turned me out of doors!" Akím gazed at her, and did not move, but merely drew the reins still more taut. "Hurrah!"--cried Efrém again. "And so he has turned thee out?"--said Akím. "He has, dear little father, my dear little dove," replied Avdótya, sobbing.--"He has turned me out, dear little father. 'The house is mine now,' says he; 'so get out,' says he." "Capital, that 's just fine ... capital!"--remarked Efrém. "And thou wert counting on remaining, I suppose?"--said Akím, bitterly, as he continued to sit in the cart. "Remain, indeed! Yes, dear little father,"--put in Avdótya, who had raised herself on her knees, and again beat her brow against the ground;--"for thou dost not know, seest thou, I.... Kill me, Akím Semyónitch, kill me here, on the spot...." "Why should I beat thee, Aréfyevna!"--replied Akím, dejectedly:--"thou hast vanquished thyself! what more is there to say?"