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handsome and happy； with the naive smile on her face； and
afterwards when she is giving orders there； one is aware of great
power in her。 Everyone is afraid of her in the house and in the
village and in the brickyard。 When she goes to the post the head
of the postal department jumps up and says to her：
〃I humbly beg you to be seated； Aksinya Abramovna！〃
A certain landowner； middle…aged but foppish； in a tunic of fine
cloth and patent leather high boots； sold her a horse； and was so
carried away by talking to her that he knocked down the price to
meet her wishes。 He held her hand a long time and； looking into
her merry； sly； naive eyes； said：
〃For a woman like you； Aksinya Abramovna； I should be ready to do
anything you please。 Only say when we can meet where no one will
interfere with us？〃
〃Why； when you please。〃
And since then the elderly fop drives up to the shop almost every
day to drink beer。 And the beer is horrid； bitter as wormwood。
The landowner shakes his head； but he drinks it。
Old Tsybukin does not have anything to do with the business now
at all。 He does not keep any money because he cannot distinguish
between the good and the false； but he is silent； he says nothing
of this weakness。 He has become forgetful； and if they don't give
him food he does not ask for it。 They have grown used to having
dinner without him； and Varvara often says：
〃He went to bed again yesterday without any supper。〃
And she says it unconcernedly because she is used to it。 For some
reason； summer and winter alike； he wears a fur coat； and only in
very hot weather he does not go out but sits at home。 As a rule
putting on his fur coat； wrapping it round him and turning up his
collar； he walks about the village； along the road to the
station； or sits from morning till night on the seat near the
church gates。 He sits there without stirring。 Passers…by bow to
him； but he does not respond； for as of old he dislikes the
peasants。 If he is asked a question he answers quite rationally
and politely； but briefly。
There is a rumour going about in the village that his
daughter…in…law turns him out of the house and gives him nothing
to eat； and that he is fed by charity； some are glad； others are
sorry for him。
Varvara has grown even fatter and whiter； and as before she is
active in good works； and Aksinya does not interfere with her。
There is so much jam now that they have not time to eat it before
the fresh fruit comes in； it goes sugary； and Varvara almost
sheds tears； not knowing what to do with it。
They have begun to forget about Anisim。 A letter has come from
him written in verse on a big sheet of paper as though it were a
petition； all in the same splendid handwriting。 Evidently his
friend Samorodov was sharing his punishment。 Under the verses in
an ugly； scarcely legible handwriting there was a single line： 〃I
am ill here all the time； I am wretched； for Christ's sake help
me！〃
Towards evening it was a fine autumn day old Tsybukin was
sitting near the church gates； with the collar of his fur coat
turned up and nothing of him could be seen but his nose and the
peak of his cap。 At the other end of the long seat was sitting
Elizarov the contractor； and beside him Yakov the school
watchman； a toothless old man of seventy。 Crutch and the watchman
were talking。
〃Children ought to give food and drink to the old。 。 。 。 Honour
thy father and mother 。 。 。〃 Yakov was saying with irritation；
〃while she； this daughter…in…law； has turned her father…in…law
out of his own house； the old man has neither food nor drink；
where is he to go？ He has not had a morsel for these three days。〃
〃Three days！〃 said Crutch； amazed。
〃Here he sits and does not say a word。 He has grown feeble。 And
why be silent？ He ought to prosecute her； they wouldn't flatter
her in the police court。〃
〃Wouldn't flatter whom？〃 asked Crutch； not hearing。
〃What？〃
〃The woman's all right； she does her best。 In their line of
business they can't get on without that 。 。 。 without sin； I
mean。 。 。 。〃
〃From his own house；〃 Yakov went on with irritation。 〃Save up and
buy your own house； then turn people out of it！ She is a nice
one； to be sure！ A pla…ague！〃
Tsybukin listened and did not stir。
〃Whether it is your own house or others' it makes no difference
so long as it is warm and the women don't scold 。 。 。〃 said
Crutch； and he laughed。 〃When I was young I was very fond of my
Nastasya。 She was a quiet woman。 And she used to be always at it：
'Buy a house； Makaritch！ Buy a house； Makaritch！ Buy a house；
Makaritch！' She was dying and yet she kept on saying； 'Buy
yourself a racing droshky； Makaritch； that you may not have to
walk。' And I bought her nothing but gingerbread。〃
〃Her husband's deaf and stupid；〃 Yakov went on； not hearing
Crutch； 〃a regular fool； just like a goose。 He can't understand
anything。 Hit a goose on the head with a stick and even then it
does not understand。〃
Crutch got up to go home to the factory。 Yakov also got up； and
both of them went off together； still talking。 When they had gone
fifty paces old Tsybukin got up； too； and walked after them；
stepping uncertainly as though on slippery ice。
The village was already plunged in the dusk of evening and the
sun only gleamed on the upper part of the road which ran
wriggling like a snake up the slope。 Old women were coming back
from the woods and children with them； they were bringing baskets
of mushrooms。 Peasant women and girls came in a crowd from the
station where they had been loading the trucks with bricks； and
their noses and their cheeks under their eyes were covered with
red brick…dust。 They were singing。 Ahead of them all was Lipa
singing in a high voice； with her eyes turned upwards to the sky；
breaking into trills as though triumphant and ecstatic that at
last the day was over and she could rest。 In the crowd was her
mother Praskovya； who was walking with a bundle in her arms and
breathless as usual。
〃Good…evening； Makaritch！ 〃 cried Lipa； seeing Crutch。
〃Good…evening； darling！〃
〃Good…evening； Lipinka；〃 cried Crutch delighted。 〃Dear girls and
women； love the rich carpenter！ Ho…ho！ My little children； my
little children。 （Crutch gave a gulp。） My dear little axes！〃
Crutch and Yakov went on further and could still be heard
talking。 Then after them the crowd was met by old Tsybukin and
there was a sudden hush。 Lipa and Praskovya had dropped a little
behind； and when the old man was on a level with them Lipa bowed
down low and said：
〃Good…evening； Grigory Petrovitch。〃
Her mother； too； bowed down。 The old man stopped and； saying
nothing； looked at the two in silence； his lips were quivering
and his eyes full of tears。 Lipa took out of her mother's bundle
a piece of savoury turnover and gave it him。 He took it and began
eating。
The sun had by now set： its glow died away on the road above。 It
grew dark and cool。 Lipa and Praskovya walked on and for some
time they kept crossing themselves。
THE HUNTSMAN
A SULTRY； stifling midday。 Not a cloudlet in the sky。 。 。 。 The
sun…baked grass had a disconsolate； hopeless look： even if there
were rain it could neve