And so Akim was sitting on the bench discontentedly stroking his
beard. Avdotya kept coming into the room and going out again. He
simply followed her with his eyes. At last she came into the room and
after taking a jerkin from the lobby was just crossing the threshold,
when he could not restrain himself and said, as though speaking to
himself:

"I wonder," he began, "why it is women are always in a fuss? It's no
good expecting them to sit still. That's not in their line. But
running out morning or evening, that's what they like. Yes."

Avdotya listened to her husband's words without changing her position;
only at the word "evening," she moved her head slightly and seemed to
ponder.

"Once you begin talking, Semyonitch," she commented at last with
vexation, "there is no stopping you."

And with a wave of her hand she went away and slammed the door.
Avdotya certainly did not appreciate Akim's eloquence and often in the
evenings when he indulged in conversation with travellers or fell to
telling stories she stealthily yawned or went out of the room. Akim
looked at the closed door. "Once you begin talking," he repeated in an
undertone.... "The fact is, I have not talked enough to you. And who
is it? A peasant like any one of us, and what's more...." And he got
up, thought a little and tapped the back of his head with his fist.

Several days passed in a rather strange way. Akim kept looking at his
wife as though he were preparing to say something to her, and she, for
her part, looked at him suspiciously; meanwhile, they both preserved a