"Why, everybody knows what ladies," he replied very languidly. "Russians?" "What else should they be?--Russians, of course." "Not foreigners?" "Hey?" "Have they been here long?" "Not long, of course." "And have they come to stay long?" "That I don't know." "Are they wealthy?" "And that, too, we don't know. Perhaps they are wealthy." "Did not a gentleman come with them?" "A gentleman?" "Yes, a gentleman." The Elder sighed. "O, okh, O Lord!"--he ejaculated with a yawn.... "N-n-o, there was no .... gentleman, I think there was no gentleman. I don't know!"--he suddenly added. "And what sort of other neighbours are living here?" "What sort? everybody knows what sort,--all sorts." "All sorts?--And what are their names?" "Whose--the lady proprietors'? or the neighbours'?" "The lady proprietors'." Again the Elder yawned. "What are their names?"--he muttered.--"Why, God knows what their names are! The elder, I think, is named Anna Feódorovna, and the other ... No, I don't know that one's name." "Well, what 's their surname, at least?" "Their surname?" "Yes, their surname, their family name." "Their family name.... Yes. Why, as God is my witness, I don't know." "Are they young?" "Well, no. They are not." "How old are they, then?" "Why, the youngest must be over forty." "Thou art inventing the whole of this." The Elder was silent for a while. "Well, you must know best. But I don't know." "Well, thou art wound up to say one thing!"--I exclaimed with vexation. Knowing, by experience, that there is no possibility of extracting anything lucid from a Russian man when once he undertakes to answer in that way (and, moreover, my host had only just thrown himself down to sleep, and swayed forward slightly before every answer, opening his eyes widely with child-like surprise, and with difficulty ungluing his lips, smeared with the honey of the first, sweet slumber),--I gave up in despair, and declining supper, went into the barn.