Kornéy, without replying, lifted his portmanteau and carried it to the door.
“Felon! … Brigand! … Just you wait! Do you think there’s no law for the likes of you?” said she bitterly, and in quite a different voice.
Kornéy, without answering, pushed the door with his foot, and slammed it so violently that the walls shook.
Going into the other part of the house, Kornéy roused the dumb lad and told him to harness the horse. The lad, half awake, looked at his uncle with astonishment, questioningly, and scratched his head with both hands. At last, understanding what was wanted of him, he jumped up, drew on his high felt boots and torn coat, took a lantern, and went to the door.
It was already quite light when Kornéy, in the small sledge, drove out of the gateway with the dumb lad, and went back along the same road he had driven over in the evening with Kouzmá.
He reached the station five minutes before the train started. The dumb lad saw how he bought his ticket, carried his portmanteau, and took his place in the carriage, and how he nodded to him, and the train moved out of sight.
Besides the blows on her face, Martha had two smashed ribs and a broken head. But the strong, healthy young woman recovered within six months, so that no trace of her injuries remained.
The girl, however, was maimed for life. Two bones were broken in her arm, and it remained twisted.
Of Kornéy, from the time he went away nothing more had been heard, and no one knew whether he was alive or dead.