“Just as you please to order, madam. … Only, the meeting of the Commune is at present being held in front of my office window, and we must come to some conclusion. The order says that the recruits are to be in town before the Feast of Pokróf. From among the peasants the Doútlofs are being suggested, and there is no one else to suggest. And the Mír does not trouble about your interests. What does it care if it ruins the Doútlofs? Don’t I know what a fight they’ve been having? Ever since I first had the stewardship they have been living in want. The old man’s youngest nephew has scarcely had time to grow up to be a help, and now they’re to be ruined again! And I, as you well know, am as careful of your property as of my own. … It’s a pity, madam, whatever you’re pleased to think! … After all, they’re neither kith nor kin to me, and I’ve received nothing from them. …”
“Why, Egór, as if I ever thought of such a thing!” interrupted the lady, and at once suspected him of having been bribed by the Doútlofs.
“… Only theirs is the best homestead in the whole of Pokróvsk. They’re God-fearing, hardworking peasants. The old man has been thirty years churchwarden; he doesn’t drink nor use bad language; he goes to church” (the steward well knew with what to bait the hook). “… But the principal thing that I would like to report to you is that he has only two sons; the others are nephews adopted out of charity, and so they ought to cast lots only with the two-men families. Many families have split up because of their improvidence, and their own sons have separated from them, and so they are safe now—while these will have to suffer just because of their charitableness.”
Here the lady could not follow at all. She did not understand what he meant by a “two-men family” nor “charitableness.” She only heard