He took his cap and strolled into the outlying parts of the town, then into the town, where he observed every passer-by, stared into the houses, down the streets, and at last found himself standing before the Koslov’s house. Being told that Koslov was at the school, he inquired for Juliana Andreevna. The woman who had opened the door to him, looked at him askance, blew her nose with her apron, wiped it with her finger, and vanished into the house for good. He knocked again, the dogs barked, and then appeared a little girl, holding her finger to her mouth, who stared at him and departed. He was about to knock again, but, instead, turned to go. As he passed through the little garden he heard voices, Parisian French, and a woman’s voice; he heard laughter and even a kiss. “Poor Leonti!” he whispered. “Or rather, blind Leonti!” He stood uncertain whether to go or stay, then hastened his steps, and determined to have speech with Mark. He sought distraction of some kind to rid himself of his mood of depression, and to drive away the insistent thoughts of Vera. Passing the warped houses, he left the town and passed between two thick hedges beyond which stretched on both sides vegetable gardens. “Where does the market gardener, Ephraim, live?” he asked, addressing a woman over the hedge who was working in the beds. Silently, without pausing in her work, she motioned with her elbow to a hut standing isolated in the field. As he climbed over the fence, two dogs barked furiously at him. From the door of the hut came a healthy young woman with sunburnt face and bare arms, holding a baby. She called off the dogs with curses, and asked Raisky whom he wished to see. He was looking curiously round, since he did not understand how anyone except the peasant and his wife could be living there. The hut, against which were propped spades, rakes and other tools, planks and pails, had neither yard nor fence; two windows looked out on the vegetable garden, two others on the field. In the shed were two horses, here was a pig surrounded by a litter of young, and a hen wandered around with her chickens. A little further off stood some cars and a big telega. “Does Mark Volokov live here?” asked Raisky. The woman pointed to the telega in silence. “That’s his room,” she said, pointing to one of the windows. “He sleeps in the telega.” “At this time of day?” “He only came home this morning, probably rather drunk.” Raisky approached the telega. “What do you want of him?” asked the woman. “To visit him.” “Let him sleep.” “Why?” “I am frightened here alone with him, and my husband won’t be here yet. I hope he’ll sleep.” “Does he insult you?” “No, it would be wicked to say such a thing. But he is so restless and peculiar that I am afraid of him.”