But Tanitshka did not come; he was alone all day, and the time hung very heavily on his hands. When he lay down to sleep he felt isolated, and his sense of injury at his isolation was greater even than at the girl's words. He remembered Olympiada, and thought now that she had been kinder to him than any one. Closing his eyes, he listened in the stillness of the night; but at every sound he started, raised his head from the pillow, and stared into the darkness with eyes wide open. All night he could not get to sleep, because of his terrified expectation of something unknown--a feeling as though he were imprisoned in a cellar, gasping in a damp, close air, full of helpless, disconnected thoughts. He got up with an aching head, tried to get the samovar going, but gave it up. He washed, drank some water, and opened the shop. About midday Pavel appeared, his forehead wrinkled in anger. Without any greeting, he asked: "What on earth's the matter with you?" Ilya understood the drift of the question, and shook his head hopelessly. He was silent awhile, thinking: "He's against me, too." "Why have you insulted Sophie Nikonovna?" said Pavel sternly, standing very straight. Ilya read his condemnation in Gratschev's angry face and reproachful eyes, but he bore that with indifference. He said slowly, in a tired voice: "You might say 'good day' when you come in, don't you think? and take off your cap. There's an eikon here." Pavel simply clutched his cap and drew it on more firmly, while his lips twitched with anger. Then he began, speaking fast and bitterly, with a trembling voice: "Go on! Got lots of money, haven't you? and plenty to eat? You'd better think how you once said: 'There's no one to care about us,' and then you find one, and you turn her out. Ah, you--you pedlar, you!" A dull feeling of slackness prevented Lunev from replying. With an unmoved, indifferent look he regarded Pavel's angry contemptuous features, feeling that the reproaches could not bite into his soul. On Pavel's chin and upper lip lay a thin yellow down, and Lunev found himself looking at this as he thought, indifferently: "Now he's beginning. She must have complained of me to him. Did I really insult her? I might have said far worse things." "She, who understands everything and can explain everything; and it's to her--you----Ah!" said Pavel, his talk full of interjections as usual: "All of them--there, are good--clever--they know everything you can think of by heart. Yes!--you ought to have held to her--and you----" "That'll do anyhow, Pashka," said Lunev slowly. "What are you trying to teach me? I do what I like.' "Yes, but what do you do? It's a shame!" "Whatever I like I'll do. I've had enough of all of you! Only get away and chatter what you like." Lunev leaned heavily against the boxes of goods, and went on thoughtfully, as though questioning himself: "And what could you tell me that I don't know?"