Picture to yourselves, gentlemen, the amazement of Iván Andréevitch! "What 's the meaning of this?"--he thundered. Yúditch made no reply. "Hast thou stolen this money?" "No, sir." "Then has some one taken the key from thee?" "I have not given the key to any one." "Not to any one? If thou hast not given it to any one--thou art the thief. Confess!" "I am not a thief, Iván Andréevitch." "Whence came these bits of glass, damn it? So thou art deceiving me? For the last time I say to thee--confess!" Yúditch hung his head and clasped his hands behind his back. "Hey there, people!" shouted Iván Andréevitch in a raging voice.--"The rods!" "What? You mean to .... whip ... me?" whispered Yúditch. "Thou shalt catch it! And how art thou any better than the rest? Thou art a thief! Well, now, Yúditch! I had not expected such rascality from thee!" "I have grown grey in your service, Iván Andréevitch," said Yúditch with an effort. "And what care I about thy grey hair? May the devil take thee and thy service!" The people entered. "Take him, and give him a good flogging!" Iván Andréevitch's lips were pale and trembling. He ramped about the room like a wild beast in a confined cage. The men did not dare to execute his commands. "What are you standing there for, you vile serfs? have I got to lay hands on him myself, I 'd like to know?" Yúditch started for the door. "Stop!" yelled Iván Andréevitch.--"Yúditch, for the last time I say to thee, I entreat thee, Yúditch, confess." "I cannot," moaned Yúditch. "Then seize him, the old sycophant!... Flog him to death! On my head be it!" thundered the maddened old man. The torture began.... Suddenly the door flew open, and Vasíly entered. He was almost paler than his father, his hands trembled, his upper lip was raised and disclosed a row of white, even teeth. "I am guilty," he said in a dull but steady voice.--"I took the money." The men stopped short. "Thou! what?! thou, Váska! without the consent of Yúditch?" "No!"--said Yúditch:--"with my consent. I myself gave the key to Vasíly Ivánovitch. Dear little father, Vasíly Ivánovitch! why have you deigned to trouble yourself?" "So that 's who the thief is!"--shouted Iván Andréevitch.--"Thanks, Vasíly, thanks! But I shall not spare thee, Yúditch, all the same. Why didst not thou confess all to me at once? Hey, there, you! why have you stopped? or do you no longer recognise my authority? And I 'll settle with you, my dear little dove!" he added, turning to Vasíly. The men were on the point of setting to work again on Yúditch. "Don't touch him!" whispered Vasíly through his teeth. The servants did not heed him.--"Back!" he shouted, and hurled himself upon them.... They staggered back. "Ah! a rebel!"--moaned Iván Andréevitch, and raising his cane, he advanced on his son.