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Updated: June 16, 2025
All stood in silence, fascinated by the glare of the lights and the howling of the snow-storm which was aimlessly disporting itself outside, regardless of the fact that it was the Eve of the Annunciation. The old priest from Vedenyapino conducted the service; the sacristan and Matvey Terehov were singing.
The policeman and Sergey Nikanoritch had come to see Matvey. Yakov Ivanitch was embarrassed at reading aloud and singing when there were strangers in the house, and now, hearing voices, he began reading in a whisper and slowly. He could hear in the prayer-room the waiter say: "The Tatar at Shtchepovo is selling his business for fifteen hundred.
When Matvey reached home there was a strong smell of incense in all the rooms and even in the entry. His cousin Yakov Ivanitch was still reading the evening service.
“That peasant’s beard’s frozen,” Kolya cried in a loud provocative voice as he passed him. “Lots of people’s beards are frozen,” the peasant replied, calmly and sententiously. “Don’t provoke him,” observed Smurov. “It’s all right; he won’t be cross; he’s a nice fellow. Good-by, Matvey.” “Good-by.” “Is your name Matvey?” “Yes. Didn’t you know?” “No, I didn’t. It was a guess.” “You don’t say so!
Then Seryozhka displays himself before the ignorant Matvey in all the greatness of his talent. There is no end to his babble, his fault-finding, his whims and fancies. If Matvey nails two big pieces of wood to make a cross, he is dissatisfied and tells him to do it again.
When he went back into the house the policeman was no longer there, but the waiter was sitting with Matvey, counting something on the reckoning beads. He was in the habit of coming often, almost every day, to the tavern; in old days he had come to see Yakov Ivanitch, now he came to see Matvey.
"I'll pull your ears off!" yelled Matvey Savitch. "Dirty brat!" The cap was found at the bottom of the cart. Kuzka brushed the hay off it with his sleeve, put it on, and timidly he crawled into the cart, still with an expression of terror on his face as though he were afraid of a blow from behind. Matvey Savitch crossed himself.
The policeman laughed, but, noticing that no one else was laughing, became serious and said: "That's Molokanism. I have heard they are all like that in the Caucasus." "But I was not killed by a thunderbolt," Matvey went on, crossing himself before the ikon and moving his lips. "My dead mother must have been praying for me in the other world.
Varvara came out of the house, and screening her eyes with her hand, as though from the sun, she looked towards the church. "It's the priest's sons with the schoolmaster," she said. Again all the three voices began to sing together. Matvey Savitch sighed and went on: "Well, that's how it was, old man. Two years later we got a letter from Vasya from Warsaw.
"That'll be enough." "Enough or not enough, we must make it do," said Matvey, slamming the carriage door and stepping back onto the steps. Darya Alexandrovna meanwhile having pacified the child, and knowing from the sound of the carriage that he had gone off, went back again to her bedroom. It was her solitary refuge from the household cares which crowded upon her directly she went out from it.
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