"Whither?"

"To America."

"To America!" I involuntarily repeated. "But he is coming back?"

The maid looked suspiciously at me.

"I don't know. Perhaps he will not come back at all."

"But has he been living here long?"

"No, not long; about a week. Now he is not here at all."

"But what was the family name of that baron?"

The maid-servant stared at me.

"Don't you know his name? We simply called him the baron. Hey, there!
Piótr!" she cried, perceiving that I was pushing my way in.--"come
hither: some stranger or other is asking all sorts of questions."

From the house there presented itself the shambling figure of a robust
labourer.

"What's the matter? What's wanted?" he inquired in a hoarse voice,--and
having listened to me with a surly mien, he repeated what the
maid-servant had said.