Ilya had gone from the desk to the door and from there had listened to this conversation, which he felt clearly had in it something insulting to him. When he heard his master laugh, a joyful sense of revenge flooded his heart, he looked triumphantly at Karp and gratefully at his employer. Strogany screwed up his eyes and laughed heartily and Karp hearing his laugh, followed with a dry anxious "He! he! he!" At the sound of this thin bleating, Strogany ordered sharply: "Shut up the shop." On the way to the merchant's house, Karp said to Ilya, shaking his head: "A fool you are, an utter fool! starting all that rigmarole! d'you suppose that's the way to curry favour? You young ass! d'you think he doesn't know that Mishka and I, both of us, stole from him--he was a young man once--he! he! As he's sent off Mishka, I've that to thank you for to tell the truth, but for telling tales of me--I'll never forgive that, I tell you straight; it's stupid and wrong, too, to say a thing like that--in my presence too. No, I can't forget that; it showed that you don't respect me!" Ilya listened, not understanding clearly, and said nothing. He had expected Karp to approach him very differently, probably to give him a good thrashing on the way home, and consequently he had been afraid to start. But in Karp's words sounded contempt more than anger, and for his mere threats Ilya cared nothing. It was the evening of that day before the meaning of the speech was clear to Ilya, when his employer sent for him to go upstairs. "Ah! now you see! go on!" Karp called after him in a voice presaging evil. Ilya went upstairs and stood at the door of a big room, with a long table under a hanging lamp, and a samovar on the table. His master sat there with his wife and three daughters, all red-haired and freckled. When Ilya came in they crowded closer together and looked at him timidly out of their blue eyes. "That's the boy," said his employer. "You don't say so--such a young rascal," said the wife anxiously and looked at Ilya as if she had never seen him before. Strogany smiled, stroked his beard, drummed on the table with his fingers, and said impressively: "I've sent for you, Ilya, to tell you I don't need you any more, so get your things together and start off." Ilya started and opened his mouth in astonishment, but could not get out a word, then turned and went out of the room. "Stop!" called the merchant, stretching one arm out after him, and striking the table with his palm, "Stop!"