He came up to where the cradle hung, and began hastily undoing the knot of the rope with his thin fingers. Then his eyes fixed themselves on the baby; but when Akoulína entered, carrying a board full of cakes, Polikéy quickly hid the rope in his bosom and sat down on the bed.
“What is it, Polikéy? You seem not yourself,” said Akoulína.
“Haven’t slept,” he answered.
Suddenly something flitted past the window, and in a moment Aksyúta, the maid from “up there,” darted in like an arrow.
“The mistress orders Polikéy to come this minute,” she said—“this minute, Avdótya Nikoláyevna’s orders are … this minute!”
Polikéy looked at Akoulína, then at the girl.
“I’m coming. What can she want?” he said, so simply that Akoulína grew quieter. “Perhaps she wants to reward me. Tell her I’m coming.”
He rose and went out. Akoulína took the washing-trough, put it on a bench, filled it with water from the pails which stood by the door and from the boiler in the oven, rolled up her sleeves, and felt the water.
“Come, Mary, I’ll wash you.”
The cross, lisping little girl began howling.
“Come, you slattern! I’ll give you a clean smock. Now then, don’t make a fuss! Come along. … I’ve still your brother to wash.”
Meanwhile Polikéy had not followed the maid from “up there,” but had gone to a very different place. In the passage, by the wall, was a stepladder leading to the garret. Polikéy, when he came out, looked round, and not seeing anyone climbed that ladder almost at a run, nimbly and hurriedly.