You know what masters are like. If you go
wrong once, they'll be at you forever after with their fault-finding,
and never give you peace."
"Don't worry about that, Yegor Danilych."
"Well--well."
Gerasim took leave, crossing the yard to go out by the gate.
Polikarpych's rooms gave on the yard, and a broad beam of light from
the window fell across Gerasim's way. He was curio as to get a glimpse
of his future home, but the panes were all frosted over, and it was
impossible to peep through. However, he could hear what the people
inside were saying.
"What will we do now?" was said in a woman's voice.
"I don't know, I don't know," a man, undoubtedly Polikarpych, replied.
"Go begging, I suppose."
"That's all we can do. There's nothing else left," said the woman.
"Oh, we poor people, what a miserable life we lead. We work and work
from early morning till late at night, day after day, and when we get
old, then it's, 'Away with you!'"
"What can we do? Our master is not one of us. It wouldn't be worth the
while to say much to him about it. He cares only for his own
advantage."
"All the masters are so mean.
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