The mother stopped at the threshold and peered about with her palm
above her eyes. The hut was very small, but its cleanness and
neatness caught the eye at once. From behind the stove a young
woman bowed silently and disappeared. On a table in a corner toward
the front of the room burned a lamp. The master of the hut sat at
the table, tapping his fingers on its edge. He fixed his glance on
the mother's eyes.
"Come in!" he said, after a deliberate pause.
"Tatyana, go call Pyotr. Quick!"
The woman hastened away without looking at her guest. The mother
seated herself on the bench opposite the peasant and looked around--
her valise was not in sight. An oppressive stillness filled the hut,
broken only by the scarcely audible sputtering of the lamplight.
The face of the peasant, preoccupied and gloomy wavered in vague
outline before the eyes of the mother, and for some reason caused
her dismal annoyance.
"Well, why doesn't he say something? Quick!"
"Where's my valise?" Her loud, stern question coming suddenly was
a surprise to herself. The peasant shrugged his shoulders and
thoughtfully gave the indefinite answer:
"It's safe." He lowered his voice and continued gloomily: "Just
now, in front of the girl, I said on purpose that it was empty.
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