He talked rapidly. Rayisa sat down, the old man raised his glasses, and scanned her suspiciously from head to foot. At supper he suddenly lifted his spoon and said: "Impossible for me to eat. I'll tell you about something that happened." Bending over the plate he was silent for some time as if considering whether or not to speak of the incident. Then he began with a sigh. "Suppose a man has a wife, his own house, not a large house, a garden, and a vegetable garden, a cook, all acquired by hard labor without sparing himself. Then comes a young man, sickly, consumptive, who rents a room in the garret, and takes meals with the master and mistress." Rayisa listened calmly and attentively. Yevsey felt bored. While looking into the woman's face he stubbornly endeavored to comprehend what had happened in the shop that day. He felt as if he had unexpectedly struck a match and set fire to something old and long dried, which began to burn alarmingly and almost consumed him in its sudden malicious blaze. "I must keep quiet," he thought. "Were you the man?" asked Rayisa. Raspopov quickly raised his head. "Why I?" he asked. He struck his breast, and exclaimed with angry heat, "The question here is, not about the man but about the law. Ought a man uphold the law? Yes, he ought. Without law it is impossible to live. You people are stupid, because man is in every respect like a beast. He is greedy, malicious, cruel." The old man rose a little from his armchair, and shouted his words in Rayisa's face. His bald pate reddened. Yevsey listened to his exclamations without believing in their sincerity. He reflected on how people are bound together and enmeshed by some unseen threads, and how if one thread is accidentally pulled, they twist and turn, rage and cry out. So he said to himself: "I must be more careful." The old man continued: "Words bring no harm if you do not listen to them. But when the fellow in the garret began to trouble her heart with his ideas, she, a stupid young woman, and that friend of his who--who to-day--" The old man suddenly came to a stop, and looked at Yevsey. "What are you thinking about?" he asked in a low suspicious tone. Yevsey rose and answered in embarrassment: "I am not thinking." "Well, then, go. You've had your supper. So go. Clear the table." Desiring to vex his master Yevsey was intentionally slow in removing the dishes from the table. "Go, I tell you!" the old man screamed in a squeaking voice. "Oh, what a fool you are!" Yevsey went to his room, and seated himself on the chest. Having left the door slightly ajar, he could hear his master's rapid talk. "They came for him one night. She got frightened, began to shiver, understood then on what road these people had put her. I told her--" "So it was you?" Rayisa asked aloud. The old man now began to speak in a low voice, almost a whisper. Then Yevsey heard Rayisa's clear voice: "Did he die?"