"Damn it," grumbled Gagin, annoyed. "Consider with your microscopic
female brain, what am I to go for?"

"_Basile_, I shall faint! . . ."

Gagin cursed, put on his slippers, cursed again, and set off to the
kitchen. It was as dark as the inside of a barrel, and the assistant
procurator had to feel his way. He groped his way to the door of
the nursery and waked the nurse.

"Vassilissa," he said, "you took my dressing-gown to brush last
night--where is it?"

"I gave it to Pelagea to brush, sir."

"What carelessness! You take it away and don't put it back--now
I've to go without a dressing-gown!"

On reaching the kitchen, he made his way to the corner in which on
a box under a shelf of saucepans the cook slept.

"Pelagea," he said, feeling her shoulder and giving it a shake,
"Pelagea! Why are you pretending? You are not asleep! Who was it
got in at your window just now?"

"Mm . . . m . . . good morning! Got in at the window? Who could get
in?"

"Oh come, it's no use your trying to keep it up! You'd better tell
your scamp to clear out while he can! Do you hear? He's no business