"I'll never tell anything about you--to nobody. I love you very much, and--even if you choked him, I wouldn't tell anybody. That's how I love you." He shuffled to the door, but the woman's hands caught him like warm white wings, and turned him back. "Did I insult you?" he heard. "Well, excuse me. If you knew what a devil he is, how he tortures me, and how I hate him. Dear me!" She pressed his face tightly to her breast, and kissed him twice. "So you love me?" "Yes," whispered Yevsey, feeling himself turning around lightly in a hot whirlpool of unknown bliss. "How?" "I don't know. I love you very much." Laughing and fondling him, she said: "You'll tell me about it. Ah, you little baby!" Going down the stairs he heard her satisfied laugh, and smiled in response. His head turned, his entire body was suffused with sweet lassitude. He walked quietly and cautiously, as if afraid of spilling the hot joy of his heart. "Why have you been so long?" asked the master. Yevsey looked at him, but saw only a confused, formless blur. "I have a headache," he answered slowly. "And I, too. What does it mean? Has Rayisa gotten up?" "Yes." "Did she speak to you?" "Yes." "What about?" the master asked hastily. The question was like a slap in Yevsey's face. He recovered, however, and answered indifferently: "She said I hadn't swept the kitchen clean." A few moments later Yevsey heard the old man's low dejected exclamation: "That woman is a dangerous creature! Yes, yes! She tries to find everything out, and makes you tell her whatever she wants." Yevsey looked at him from a distance, and thought: "I wish you were dead." The days passed rapidly, fused in a jumbled mass, as if joy were lying in wait ahead. But every day grew more and more exciting. CHAPTER VII The old man became sulky and taciturn. He peered around strangely, suddenly burst into a passion, shouted, and howled dismally, like a sick dog. He constantly complained of a pain in his head and nausea. At meals he smelt of the food suspiciously, crumbled the bread into small pieces with his shaking fingers, and held the tea and brandy up to the light. His nightly scoldings of Rayisa, in which he threatened to bring ruin upon her, became more and more frequent. But she answered all his outcries with soft composure. Yevsey's love for the woman waxed stronger, and his sad, embittered heart was filled with hatred of his master. "Don't I understand what you're up to, you low-down woman?" raged the old man. "What does my sickness come from? What are you poisoning me with?" "What are you saying? What are you saying?" exclaimed the woman, her calm voice quivering. "You are sick from old age." "You lie! You lie!" "And from fright besides." "You miserable creature, keep quiet!" "You suffer from the weight of years." "You lie!" "And it's time you thought of death."