Chapter 7

Having almost collided with the master, the young woman deftly put down the tub, looked abashed, made a bow, glanced timidly at the master with her sparkling eyes, and trying with the sleeve of her embroidered shirt to conceal a light smile, and tripping in her leather shoes, ran up the steps.

" Mother, take the yoke to Aunt Nastasya," she said, stopping in the door and turning to the old woman.

The modest young proprietor looked sternly, but attentively, at the ruddy woman, frowned, and turned to the old woman, who straightened out the yoke with her crooked fingers, and, slinging it over her shoulder, obediently directed her steps to the neighboring hut.

" Is your son at home ? " asked the master.

The old woman bent her arched figure still more, bowed, and was about to say something, but she put her hands to her mouth and coughed so convulsively that Nekhlyudov did not wait for the answer, and walked into the hut.

Yukhvanka, who was sitting in the red ^ corner on a bench, rushed to the oven the moment he espied the master, as if trying to hide from him ; he hastily pushed something on the beds, and twitching his mouth and eyes, pressed against the wall, as if to make way for the master.

Yukhvanka was a blond, about thirty years of age, spare, slender, with a young beard that ran down to a point ; he would have been a handsome man but for his fleeting hazel eyes which looked unpleasantly beneath his wrinkled brows, and for the absence of two front teeth, which was very noticeable because his lips were short and in continuous motion. He was clad in a holiday shirt with bright red gussets, striped calico drawers, and heavy boots with wrinkled boot-legs.

The interior of Yukhvanka's hut was not so small and gloomy as Churis's, though it was as close, and smelled of smoke and sheepskins, and the peasant clothes and uten- sils were scattered about in the same disorderly fashion. Two things strangely arrested the attention : a small dented samovar, which stood on a shelf, and a black frame with a remnant of a glass, and a portrait of a general in a red uniform, which was hanging near the images.

Nekhlyudov looked with dissatisfaction at the samovar, at the general's portrait, and at the beds, where from under a rag peeped out the end of a brass-covered pipe, and turned to the peasant.

" Good morning, Epifan," he said, looking into his eyes.

Epifan bowed, and mumbled, " We wish you health, 'r Grace," pronouncing the last words with peculiar tenderness, and his eyes in a twinkle surveyed the whole form of the master, the hut, the floor, and the ceiling, not stopping at anything ; then he hurriedly walked up to the beds, pulled down a coat from them, and began to put it on.

" Why are you dressing yourself ? " said Nekhlyudov, seating himself on a bench, and obviously trying to look as stern as possible at Epifan.

" Please, 'r Grace, how can I ? It seems to me we know — "

" I came in to see why you must sell a horse, how many horses you have, and what horse it is you want to sell," dryly said the master, evidently repeating questions prepared in advance.

" We are well satisfied with 'r Grace, because you have deigned to call on me, a peasant," replied Yukhvanka, casting rapid glances at the general's portrait, at the oven, at the master's boots, and at all objects except Nekhlyudov's face. " We always pray God for 'r Grace — "

" Why are you selling a horse ? " repeated Nekhlyudov, raising his voice, and clearing his throat.

Yukhvanka sighed, shook his hair (his glance again surveyed the whole hut), and, noticing the cat that had been quietly purring on a bench, he called out to her, " Scat, you scamp ! " and hurriedly turned to the master. " The horse, 'r Grace, which is useless — If it were a good animal I would not sell it, 'r Grace."

" How many horses have you in all ? "

" Three, 'r Grace."

" Have you any colts ? "

" Why, yes, 'r Grace ! I have one colt."

1 The best corner, corresponding to a sitting-room, is called "red."