[Footnote 26: _mátushki rodimuïa!_] [Footnote 27: St. Nicholas.] [Footnote 28: _Ya-s sudárinya._] XIV. Making his way out into the fresh air, Dutlof turned off from the road to the lindens, unloosed his belt so the more conveniently to get at his purse, and then began to put away the money. He moved his lips, sucking them in and pushing them out again, though he made no sound. After he had stowed away the money, and buckled his girdle again, he crossed himself, and went roiling along the path as though he were drunk; so absorbed was he by the thoughts rushing through his brain. Suddenly he saw before him the form of a muzhík, coming to meet him. He screamed. It was Yefím, who with a club was acting as guard on the outside of the wing. "Ah, uncle Sem'yón," said Yefímka joyfully as he came nearer. [It was rather gloomy for him to be all alone.] "Well, have you got the recruits off?" "Yes. What are you doing?" "They stationed me here to guard Ilyitch, who hung himself." "But where is Ilyitch?" "Here in the loft: they say he's hanging there," replied Yefímka, pointing with his stick through the darkness, to the roof of the _wing._ Dutlof looked in the direction indicated; and though he saw nothing, he blinked his eyes and shook his head. "The police inspector has come," said Yefímka. "The coachman told me. They are going to take him right down. Kind of a fearful night, uncle.[29] I wouldn't go in there to-night, not even if orders had come from the _upper_ house. Not if Yégor Mikhaluitch beat me to death would I go in there." "What a terrible misfortune!" said Dutlof, evidently from a sense of propriety; for in reality he was not thinking of what he was saying, and was anxious to go his way. But the overseer's voice chained him to the spot. "Hey, guard, come here!" cried Yégor Mikháilovitch, from the steps. Yefímka responded to the call. "What muzhík was standing there with you?" "Dutlof." "You too, Sem'yón, come here." As Dutlof drew near, he saw, by the light of the lantern carried by the coachman, not only the overseer, but a strange man in a uniform cap with a cockade, and wearing a cloak: this was the police inspector. "Here is an old man will go with us," said the overseer, pointing to him. The old man winced, but there was nothing to be done. "And you, Yefímka, you're only a young man; just run on ahead to the loft where he's hanging, and clear away the stairs so that his honor can get up." Yefímka, although he would not for any thing go into the _wing,_ started off, tramping with his feet as though they were beams.