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Updated: May 28, 2025
I must tell the reader why I looked with such sympathy at Arina. During my stay at Petersburg I had become by chance acquainted with Mr. Zvyerkoff. He had a rather influential position, and was reputed a man of sense and education.
Zvyerkoff, without finishing his sentence, turned away his head, and, wrapping himself more closely into his cloak, manfully repressed his involuntary emotion. The reader now probably understands why I looked with sympathetic interest at Arina. 'Have you long been married to the miller? I asked her at last. 'Two years. 'How was it? Did your master allow it? 'They bought my freedom. 'Who?
Zvyerkoff himself did not prepossess one in his favour; his little mouse-like eyes peeped slyly out of a broad, almost square, face; he had a large, prominent nose, with distended nostrils; his close-cropped grey hair stood up like a brush above his scowling brow; his thin lips were for ever twitching and smiling mawkishly. Mr.
Zvyerkoff's favourite position was standing with his legs wide apart and his fat hands in his trouser pockets. Once I happened somehow to be driving alone with Mr. Zvyerkoff in a coach out of town. We fell into conversation. As a man of experience and of judgment, Mr. Zvyerkoff began to try to set me in 'the path of truth.
He's a Byelev townsman. 'And are you too from Byelev? 'No, I'm a serf; I was a serf. 'Whose? 'Zvyerkoff was my master. Now I am free. 'What Zvyerkoff? 'Alexandr Selitch. 'Weren't you his wife's lady's maid? 'How did you know? Yes. I looked at Arina with redoubled curiosity and sympathy. 'I know your master, I continued. 'Do you? she replied in a low voice, and her head drooped.
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