Vershina did not detain him and said good-bye to him coldly. She was intensely vexed: until now she still had kept the frail hope that she would marry Marta to Peredonov and keep Mourin for herself. And now the last hope had vanished. Marta caught it hot that day! That made her cry. * * * * * Peredonov left Vershina and thought he would like to smoke. He suddenly saw a policeman--standing in the corner of the street, shelling dry sunflower seeds.[6] Peredonov felt depressed. "Another spy," he thought, "they're watching so as to have some excuse for finding fault with me." He did not dare to light the cigarette which he had taken from his pocket, but walked up to the policeman and asked timidly: "Mr. Policeman, is one allowed to smoke here?" The policeman touched his cap and inquired respectfully: "Why do you ask me, sir?" "A cigarette," explained Peredonov, "may one smoke a cigarette here?" "There's been no law about it," replied the policeman evasively. "There hasn't been any?" repeated Peredonov in a depressed voice. "No, there hasn't been any. We aren't ordered to stop gentlemen from smoking, and if such a rule has been passed I don't know about it." "If there hasn't been any, then I won't begin," said Peredonov humbly, "I am a law-abiding person. I will even throw the cigarette away. After all, I'm a State Councillor." Peredonov crumpled up the cigarette and threw it on the ground, and already began to fear that he had said something inadvised, and walked rapidly home. The policeman looked after him in perplexity and at last decided that the gentleman "had had a drop too much," and, comforted by this, recommenced his peaceful shelling of sunflower seeds. "The street is standing up on end," muttered Peredonov. The hill ran up a not very steep incline and then went down abruptly on the other side. At the crest of the street between two hovels was a sharp outline against the blue, melancholy evening sky. Poor life seemed to have shut herself in within these quiet narrow limits and suffered keen torments. The trees thrust their branches over the fences, they peered over and obstructed the way, and there was a taunt and menace in their whispering. A ram stood at the cross-roads and looked dully at Peredonov. Suddenly the sound of bleating laughter came from round a corner; Volodin appeared and went to greet Peredonov. Peredonov looked at him gloomily and thought of the ram which had been there a moment ago and had now disappeared. "That," he thought, "is certainly because Volodin can turn himself into a ram. He doesn't resemble a ram for nothing, and it's difficult to tell whether he's laughing or bleating." These thoughts so preoccupied him that he did not hear what Volodin was saying to him. "Why are you kicking me, Pavloushka?" he said dejectedly. Volodin smiled and said bleatingly: