Kornéy stood breathing heavily, looking about as if he had just woke up and did not know where he was or who was with him.
Martha raised her head, and groaning, wiped some blood from her face with her sleeve.
“Hateful brute!” said she. “Yes, I am living with Justin, and have lived with him! … There, now, kill me outright! … And Agatha is not your daughter, but his! …” and she quickly covered her face with her elbow, expecting a blow.
But Kornéy seemed not to understand anything, and only sniffed and looked about him.
“See what you’ve done to the girl! You’ve put her arm out,” said his mother, showing him the dislocated, helpless arm of the girl, who did not cease screaming. Kornéy turned away, and silently went out into the passage and into the porch.
Outside it was still frosty and dull. Hoarfrost fell on his burning cheeks and forehead. He sat on the step and ate handfuls of snow, gathering it from the handrail. From indoors came Martha’s groans and the girl’s piteous cries. Then the door into the passage opened, and he heard his mother leave the bedroom with the child and go through the passage into the other half of the house. He rose and returned to the bedroom. The half-turned-down lamp on the table gave a dim light. From behind the partition came Martha’s groans, which grew louder when he entered.
In silence he put on his outdoor things, drew his portmanteau from under the bench, packed it, and tied it up with a cord.
“Why have you killed me? What for? … What have I done to you?” said Martha in a doleful voice.