it sent to Byelev for Marya's poor orphans. And your viper did not
choke, may she be thrice accursed, the she-devil! May she never
look upon the light of day!"

Yakov Ivanitch called to her: it was time to begin the "Hours." She
washed, put on a white kerchief, and by now quiet and meek, went
into the prayer-room to the brother she loved. When she spoke to
Matvey or served peasants in the tavern with tea she was a gaunt,
keen-eyed, ill-humoured old woman; in the prayer-room her face was
serene and softened, she looked younger altogether, she curtsied
affectedly, and even pursed up her lips.

Yakov Ivanitch began reading the service softly and dolefully, as
he always did in Lent. After he had read a little he stopped to
listen to the stillness that reigned through the house, and then
went on reading again, with a feeling of gratification; he folded
his hands in supplication, rolled his eyes, shook his head, sighed.
But all at once there was the sound of voices. The policeman and
Sergey Nikanoritch had come to see Matvey. Yakov Ivanitch was
embarrassed at reading aloud and singing when there were strangers
in the house, and now, hearing voices, he began reading in a whisper
and slowly. He could hear in the prayer-room the waiter say:

"The Tatar at Shtchepovo is selling his business for fifteen hundred.
He'll take five hundred down and an I.O.U. for the rest. And so,
Matvey Vassilitch, be so kind as to lend me that five hundred
roubles. I will pay you two per cent a month."

"What money have I got?" cried Matvey, amazed. "I have no money!"