"Upon my word, madam, what are you saying? Isn't the inn yours? Don't
we all belong to you? And isn't all our property yours, our
mistress's?"

"Good gracious, Kirillovna, what are you saying?" Lizaveta Prohorovna
pulled out a batiste handkerchief and nervously blew her nose. "Akim
bought the inn with his own money."

"His own money? But where did he get the money? Wasn't it through your
kindness? He has had the use of the land all this time as it is. It
was all through your gracious permission. And do you suppose, madam,
that he would have no money left? Why, he is richer than you are, upon
my word, he is!"

"That's all true, of course, but still I can't do it.... How could I
sell the inn?"

"And why not sell it," Kirillovna went on, "since a purchaser has
luckily turned up? May I ask, madam, how much he offers you?"

"More than two thousand roubles," said Lizaveta Prohorovna softly.

"He will give more, madam, if he offers two thousand straight off. And
you will arrange things with Akim afterwards; take a little off his
yearly duty or something. He will be thankful, too."

"Of course, I must remit part of his duty. But no, Kirillovna, how can
I sell it?" and Lizaveta Prohorovna walked up and down the room. "No,
that's out of the question, that won't do ... no, please don't speak