have to thank Count Sergey Paylovitch and yourself. Out of en-
vy, because I shot better than he did, the Count kept giving me
wine for a whole month, and when a man's drunk you could
make him change his religion, let alone getting married. To pay
me out he married me to you when I was drunk. . . . A huntsman
to a herd-girl! You saw I was drunk, why did you marry me?
You were not a serf, you know; you could have resisted. Of
course it was a bit of luck for a herd-girl to marry a huntsman,
but you ought to have thought about it. Well, now be miserable,
cry. It's a joke for the Count, but a crying matter for you. . . . Beat
yourself against the wall."
A silence followed. Three wild ducks flew over the clearing.
Yegor followed them with his eyes till, transformed into three
scarcely visible dots, they sank down far beyond the forest.
"How do you live?" he asked, moving his eyes from the
ducks to Pelagea.
"Now I am going out to work, and in the winter I take a child
from the Foundling Hospital and bring it up on the bottle. They
give me a rouble and a half a month."
"Oh. . . ."
Again a silence. From the strip that had been reaped floated a
soft song which broke off at the very beginning. It was too hot to
sing.
"They say you have put up a new hut for Akulina," said Pel-
agea.
Yegor did not speak.
"So she is dear to you. . . ."
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