Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume XIV).djvu/309

Rh 'Yes, sir.'

The night passed somehow. In the morning Onisim, as usual, gave Pyetushkov on the blue sprigged plate a new white roll. Ivan Afanasiitch looked out of window and asked Onisim:

'You've been to the baker's shop?'

'Who's to go, if I don't?'

'Ah!'

Pyetushkov became plunged in meditation.

'Tell me, please, did you see any one there?'

'Of course I did.'

'Whom did you see there, now, for instance?'

'Why, of course, Vassilissa.'

Ivan Afanasiitch was silent. Onisim cleared the table, and was just going out of the room

'Onisim,' Pyetushkov cried faintly.

'What is it?'

'Er did she ask after me?'

'Of course she didn't.'

Pyetushkov set his teeth. 'Yes,' he thought, 'that's all it's worth, her love, indeed' His head dropped. 'Absurd I was, to be sure,' he thought again. 'A fine idea to read her poetry. A girl like that! Why, she's a fool! Why, she's good for nothing but to lie on the stove and eat pancakes. Why, she's a post, a perfect post; an uneducated workgirl.'

'She's never come,' he whispered, two hours later, still sitting in the same place, 'she's never come. To think of it; why, she could see that I left her out of temper; why,