Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume XIV).djvu/272

Rh 'No.'

'How's that?—really! I take rolls from you every day, and pay for them regularly.'

The woman stared at him in silence. 'Take twists,' she said at last, yawning; 'or a scone.'

'I don't like them,' said Pyetushkov, and he felt positively hurt.

'As you please,' muttered the fat woman, and she slammed to the window-pane.

Ivan Afanasiitch was quite unhinged by his intense vexation. In his perturbation he crossed to the other side of the street, and gave himself up entirely, like a child, to his displeasure.

'Sir!' he heard a rather agreeable female voice; 'sir!'

Ivan Afanasiitch raised his eyes. From the open pane of the bakehouse window peeped a girl of about seventeen, holding a white roll in her hand. She had a full round face, rosy cheeks, small hazel eyes, rather a turn-up nose, fair hair, and magnificent shoulders. Her features suggested good-nature, laziness, and carelessness.

'Here's a roll for you, sir,' she said, laughing, 'I'd taken for myself; but take it, please, I'll give it up to you.'

'I thank you most sincerely. Allow me '

Pyetushkov began fumbling in his pocket.

'No, no! you are welcome to it.'

She closed the window-pane.