“My brains were going round in my head in a sort of frenzy. On Thursday in Holy Week I was going early in the morning--it was scarcely light--to market. I passed close by her gate, and the Evil One was by me--at my elbow. I looked--she had a gate with open trellis work at the top--and there she was, up already, standing in the middle of the yard, feeding the ducks. I could not restrain myself, and I called her name. She came up and looked at me through the trellis.... Her little face was white, her eyes soft and sleepy-looking.... I liked her looks immensely, and I began paying her compliments, as though we were not at the gate, but just as one does on namedays, while she blushed, and laughed, and kept looking straight into my eyes without winking.... I lost all sense and began to declare my love to her.... She opened the gate, and from that morning we began to live as man and wife....” The hunchback Alyoshka came into the yard from the street and ran out of breath into the house, not looking at any one. A minute later he ran out of the house with a concertina. Jingling some coppers in his pocket, and cracking sunflower seeds as he ran, he went out at the gate. “And who’s that, pray?” asked Matvey Savitch. “My son Alexey,” answered Dyudya. “He’s off on a spree, the rascal. God has afflicted him with a hump, so we are not very hard on him.” “And he’s always drinking with the other fellows, always drinking,” sighed Afanasyevna. “Before Carnival we married him, thinking he’d be steadier, but there! he’s worse than ever.” “It’s been no use. Simply keeping another man’s daughter for nothing,” said Dyudya. Somewhere behind the church they began to sing a glorious, mournful song. The words they could not catch and only the voices could be heard--two tenors and a bass. All were listening; there was complete stillness in the yard.... Two voices suddenly broke off with a loud roar of laughter, but the third, a tenor, still sang on, and took so high a note that every one instinctively looked upwards, as though the voice had soared to heaven itself. Varvara came out of the house, and screening her eyes with her hand, as though from the sun, she looked towards the church. “It’s the priest’s sons with the schoolmaster,” she said. Again all the three voices began to sing together. Matvey Savitch sighed and went on: