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He was numb with terror, anger, and shame... What was he to do now? What would his wife say if she found out? What would his colleagues at the office say? His Excellency would be sure to dig him in the ribs, guffaw, and say: "I congratulate you!... He-he-he! Though your beard is gray, your heart is gay.... You are a rogue, Semyon Erastovitch!"
A minute later he passed him again, and again he shrugged his shoulders. "Here's a go! Did you ever!" he muttered grinning. "Aksinya, the washer-woman, was here just now, Semyon Erastovitch. The silly woman put her baby down on the steps here, and while she was indoors with me, someone took and carried off the baby... Who'd have thought it!" "What?
What are you saying?" shouted Miguev at the top of his voice. Yermolay, interpreting his master's wrath in his own fashion, scratched his head and heaved a sigh. "I am sorry, Semyon Erastovitch," he said, "but it's the summer holidays,... one can't get on without... without a woman, I mean...."
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