"Why, at the manor-house,"--replied the old man, briskly. "She is there. They have placed thy cattle here, and thy coffers, just as they were--but she is yonder. Shall I go for her?" Akím did not reply immediately. "Yes, go,"--he said at last. "Ekh, uncle, uncle,"--he articulated with a sigh, while the latter was taking his cap from its nail:--"dost thou remember what thou saidst to me on the eve of my wedding?" "God's will rules all things, Akímushka." "Dost thou remember how thou saidst to me that I was no fit mate for you peasants--and now see what a pass things have come to.... I myself have become as poor as a church mouse." "A man can't make calculations against bad people,"--replied the old man;--"and as for him, the dishonest scoundrel, if any one were to teach him a good lesson, some gentleman, for instance, or any other power,--what cause would there be to fear him? The wolf recognised his prey."--And the old man put on his cap and departed. Avdótya had but just returned from church when she was informed that her husband's uncle was inquiring for her. Up to that time she had very rarely seen him; he had not been in the habit of coming to their inn, and in general he bore the reputation of being a queer fellow; he was passionately fond of snuff, and preserved silence most of the time. She went out to him. "What dost thou want, Petróvitch? Has anything happened, pray?" "Nothing has happened, Avdótya Aréfyevna; thy husband is asking for thee." "Has he returned?" "Yes." "But where is he?" "Why, in the village; he 's sitting in his cottage." Avdótya quailed. "Well, Petróvitch,"--she asked, looking him straight in the eye,--"is he angry?" "'T is not perceptible that he is." Avdótya dropped her eyes. "Well, come along,"--she said, throwing on a large kerchief, and the two set out. They walked in silence until they reached the village. But when they began to draw near to the cottage, Avdótya was seized with such alarm that her knees trembled under her. "Dear little father, Petróvitch,"--she said,--"do thou go in first.... Tell him that I have come." Petróvitch entered the cottage and found Akím sitting buried in profound thought, on the selfsame spot where he had left him. "Well,"--said Akím, raising his head;--"has n't she come?" "Yes, she has come,"--replied the old man.--"She 's standing at the gate...." "Send her hither." The old man went out, waved his hand to Avdótya, said to her: "Go along!" and sat down again himself on the earthen bank along the cottage wall. With trepidation Avdótya opened the door, crossed the threshold and paused.... Akím looked at her. "Well, Aréfyevna,"--he began,--"what are we--thou and I--to do now?" "Forgive me,"--she whispered. "Ekh, Aréfyevna, we are all sinful folks. What 's the use of discussing it!"