Elena ran to her mother.

'Away!' clamoured Nikolai Artemyevitch, seizing his daughter by the
arm, 'away, unworthy girl!'

But at that instant the door of the room opened, and a pale face with
glittering eyes appeared: it was the face of Shubin.

'Nikolai Artemyevitch!' he shouted at the top of his voice, 'Augustina
Christianovna is here and is asking for you!'

Nikolai Artemyevitch turned round infuriated, threatening Shubin with
his fist; he stood still a minute and rapidly went out of the room.

Elena fell at her mother's feet and embraced her knees.



Uvar Ivanovitch was lying on his bed. A shirt without a collar,
fastened with a heavy stud enfolded his thick neck and fell in full
flowing folds over the almost feminine contours of his chest, leaving
visible a large cypress-wood cross and an amulet. His ample limbs were
covered with the lightest bedclothes. On the little table by the
bedside a candle was burning dimly beside a jug of kvas, and on the
bed at Uvar ivanovitch's feet was sitting Shubin in a dejected pose.

'Yes,' he was saying meditatively, 'she is married and getting ready
to go away. Your nephew was bawling and shouting for the benefit of
the whole house; he had shut himself up for greater privacy in his
wife's bedroom, but not merely the maids and the footmen, the coachman