He indicated the shop with a sweeping gesture, nodded and smiled unpleasantly. "Right, there is no peace. What's the good to me to stand on one spot and do business? Plenty of worry, but no freedom. I can't go out. Before, I went where I liked, in the streets, if I found a nice comfortable place I sat down and enjoyed myself, but now here I squat, day in day out, and that's all." "See, you might have taken Vyera as an assistant," said Pavel. Ilya looked at him, but said nothing. "Come in," cried Masha. At tea, hardly a word was spoken. The sun shone on the street, the bare feet of the children shuffled along the pavement, the hawkers of vegetables went by the window. "Fresh leeks, onions!" a woman cried. "Fresh cucumbers!" Everything spoke of spring, of fine warm, clear days, but in the little room it smelt damp and close. From time to time a melancholy, sorrowful word was uttered, the samovar hummed and glittered in the sunshine. "We sit here as if we were at a funeral," said Ilya. "Yes, Vyera's," added Gratschev. He sat there like a beaten hound. His hands moved slackly, his face was despairing, and he spoke slowly in a dull voice. "Pull yourself together," said Ilya to him coldly. "It's no good giving way." "It's my conscience," said Gratschev, shaking his head. "I sit here and think that I drove her to prison." "That's quite possible," said Ilya remorselessly. Gratschev raised his head and looked at his friend reproachfully. "Why do you look at me?" "You're a bad-hearted man." "Well, why should I be good? What joy have I to make me cheerful?" cried Ilya. "Who has ever done any good thing for me? Who has cared for me? One soul perhaps in all the world, and she was a ne'er-do-well, a vicious woman, ah! Every one may strike me, and I'm to keep quiet? No thank you!" His face flushed as anger welled up in him, his eyes grew bloodshot; he sprang up in a paroxysm of rage, longing to scream, to insult them, to strike the walls or the table with his fists. Masha, terrified, cried aloud like a child: "I want to go home, let me go," she said in a trembling tearful voice, and moved her head as though trying to hide it. Lunev was silent; he saw Pavel look at him with enmity. "Well, what are you crying at?" he said ill-temperedly. "I didn't shout at you, and you needn't go. I'll go, I must. Pavel will stay with you." "Gavrilo! If Tatiana Vlassyevna----" "Who's that?" There was a knock at the door of the courtyard. Gavrik looked inquiringly at his master. "Open," said Ilya. Gavrik's sister appeared on the threshold. She stood without moving for a few seconds, as straight as a dart, her head drawn back, and looked at them all with screwed-up eyes. Then on her cold, ugly face appeared a grimace of disgust, and without noticing Ilya's bow, she said to her brother: "Gavrik, come here a moment." Ilya flared out. The blood rushed to his face at the insult with such force that his eyes burned.