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Updated: August 29, 2024
Onisim looked up from under his brows at his master. 'And you 're always like this. Yes, positively always. Onisim smiled. 'But what's the good of my asking you where you're going, Ivan Afanasiitch? As though I didn't know! To the girl at the baker's shop! 'There, that's just where you're wrong! that's just where you're mistaken! Not to her at all.
'She doesn't care for me a bit, that's clear, at last; that's beyond all doubt, at last, Pyetushkov muttered in an undertone, gesticulating with his head and hands as though he were explaining to a perfectly extraneous person some perfectly extraneous fact. 'Yes, Onisim resumed, 'there are women like that. 'There are, listlessly repeated Pyetushkov, in a tone half questioning, half perplexed.
Here you sit sticking at home the whole blessed day ... much good it does you, sitting at home like that! You don't play cards, you don't go and see the gentry, and as for ... well ... Onisim waved his hand expressively. 'Now, come ... you really go ... too far ... Ivan Afanasiitch said hesitatingly, clutching his pipe. 'Too far, indeed, Ivan Afanasiitch, too far, you say! Judge for yourself.
Why I never gave her anything, as you know. 'That's why she's flung you over. 'No, that's not why! responded Pyetushkov with a sigh. 'Why, you're in love with her to this day, Onisim retorted malignantly. 'You'd be glad to go back there as before. 'That's nonsense you're talking. No, my lad, you don't know me either, I can see.
Why, before we can look round, he'll be in a decline, or dying outright, maybe. 'It's not my fault, Onisim Sergeitch. 'Not your fault! God knows. Why, he's lost his heart to you. And you, God forgive you, treated him as if he were one of yourselves. Don't come, says you, I'm sick of you. Why, though he's not much to boast of, he's a gentleman anyway.
'Good day. 'Why are you so depressed? Would you like a cup of tea? 'It's not me we're talking about now, rejoined Onisim, in a tone of vexation. 'Why, what then? 'What! Don't you understand me? What! What have you done to my master, come, you tell me that. 'What I've done to him? 'What have you done to him? ... You go and look at him.
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.
Onisim slowly drew off Ivan Afanasiitch's greasy Tartar dressing-gown, gazed with fatherly commiseration at his master, shook his head, put him on his coat, and fell to beating him about the back with a brush. Pyetushkov went out, and after a not very protracted stroll about the crooked streets of the town, found himself facing the baker's shop. A queer smile was playing about his lips.
If I could have known beforehand, I'd have.... 'Oh, go away, do, devil! shrieked Pyetushkov, not stirring from his place, however, nor raising his head. 'Ivan Afanasiitch, for mercy's sake, pursued the ruthless Onisim. 'I'm speaking for your good. Despise her, Ivan Afanasiitch; you simply break it off. Listen to me, or else I'll fetch a wise woman; she'll break the spell in no time.
'Why, am I to go down on my knees to you, eh? All right there, I'm on my knees ... 'But really ... 'Why, what a girl it is! Even that doesn't touch her! ... Vassilissa at last consented, put a kerchief on her head, and went out with Onisim. 'You wait here a little, in the passage, he said to her, when they reached Pyetushkov's abode, 'and I'll go and let the master know ...
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