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Updated: June 19, 2025
"He has turned me out, Akim Semyonitch, dear," Avdotya answered, sobbing. "He has turned me out. The house is mine, he said, so you can go." "Capital! That's a fine thing ... capital," observed Yefrem. "So I suppose you thought to stay on?" Akim brought out bitterly, still sitting in the cart.
At first his wife was unwilling to release him and told him through the door that he had not yet slept long enough; but he aroused her curiosity by promising to tell her of the extraordinary thing that had happened to Akim; she unbolted the door. Yefrem told her what he knew and ended by asking "Is he awake yet, or not?" "The Lord only knows," answered his wife.
At last, however, he got up and after listening attentively to his wife came to the conclusion that it was a bad business, that something must be done. "Yes," his wife repeated, "it is a bad business; maybe he will be doing mischief in his despair.... I saw last night that he was not asleep but was just lying on the stove; it would be as well for you to go and see, Yefrem Alexandritch."
"What!" he cried at last, "all the money, too ... the money and the house, and you did it.... Ah! You took it from under the floor, you took it.... I'll kill you, you snake in the grass!" And he leapt out of the cart. "Semyonitch, Semyonitch, don't beat her, don't fight," faltered Yefrem, on whom this unexpected adventure began to have a sobering effect.
"I woke up in the servants' kitchen on the stove . . . . They can all confirm that. How I got on to the stove I can't say. . . ." "Don't disturb yourself . . . Do you know Akulina?" "Oh well, not particularly." "Did she leave you for Klyauzov?" "Yes. . . . Yefrem, bring some more mushrooms! Will you have some tea, Yevgraf Kuzmitch?"
Akim got up and stepped over the threshold. "Akim Semyonitch!" Yefrem wailed, "you've brought ruin on yourself, my dear!" Akim glanced at him without speaking. "If I had known why you asked for vodka I would not have given it to you, I really would not. I believe I would have drunk it all myself! Eh, Naum Ivanitch," he added clutching at Naum's arm, "have mercy upon him, let him go!" "What next!"
With timid curiosity Yefrem craned his neck from behind Naum and with difficulty made out the figure of Akim in the corner of the cellar. The once well-to-do innkeeper, respected all over the neighbourhood, was sitting on straw with his hands tied behind him like a criminal.
"I told you that you would come to a bad end! I told you, poor dear you wouldn't listen! Dissipation leads to no good!" "It's thanks to Yefrem," said Psyekov. "We should never have guessed it but for him. It was he who first thought that something was wrong. He came to me this morning and said: 'Why is it our master hasn't waked up for so long? He hasn't been out of his bedroom for a whole week!
"My good Naum Ivanitch," Yefrem began, "let him go, don't ruin the old man altogether. Don't take that sin upon your soul, Naum Ivanitch. Only think the man was in despair he didn't know what he was doing." "Give over that nonsense," Naum cut him short. "What! Am I likely to let him go! Why, he'd set fire to the house to-morrow if I did." "He wouldn't, Naum Ivanitch, believe me.
"Akim, Akim Semyonitch," someone called to him. He raised his eyes and saw a friend of his, the parish clerk, Yefrem, nicknamed the Mole, a little, bent man with a sharp nose and dim-sighted eyes. He was sitting on a bundle of straw in a wretched little cart, and leaning forward against the box. "Are you going home?" he asked Akim. Akim stopped "Yes." "Shall I give you a lift?" "Please do."
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