On coming out of the house he had at once missed Mumu. He never
remembered her failing to wait for his return, and began running up and
down, looking for her, and calling her in his own way. . . . He rushed up
to his garret, up to the hay-loft, ran out into the street, this way and
that. . . . She was lost! He turned to the other serfs, with the most
despairing signs, questioned them about her, pointing to her height from
the ground, describing her with his hands. . . . Some of them really did
not know what had become of Mumu, and merely shook their heads; others did
know, and smiled to him for all response; while the steward assumed an
important air, and began scolding the coachmen. Then Gerasim ran right
away out of the yard.

It was dark by the time he came back. From his worn-out look, his
unsteady walk, and his dusty clothes, it might be surmised that he had
been running over half Moscow. He stood still opposite the windows of
the mistress's house, took a searching look at the steps where a group
of house-serfs were crowded together, turned away, and uttered once more
his inarticulate "Mumu." Mumu did not answer. He went away. Every one
looked after him, but no one smiled or said a word, and the inquisitive
postilion Antipka reported next morning in the kitchen that the dumb man
had been groaning all night.

All the next day Gerasim did not show himself, so that they were obliged
to send the coachman Potap for water instead of him, at which the
coachman Potap was anything but pleased. The lady asked Gavrila if her
orders had been carried out. Gavrila replied that they had. The next
morning Gerasim came out of his garret, and went about his work. He came
in to his dinner, ate it, and went out again, without a greeting to any
one. His face, which had always been lifeless, as with all deaf-mutes,
seemed now to be turned to stone. After dinner he went out of the yard