The steward had only just got up, and was drinking tea. He, too, was preparing to go to town, to hand over the recruits.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Egór Miháylovitch, I want to buy the lad off. Do be so good! You said t’other day that you knew one in the town that was willing … Explain it to me, how to do it; we are ignorant people.”
“Why, have you reconsidered it?”
“I have, Egór Miháylovitch. I’m so sorry … a brother’s child, after all, whatever he may be. … I’m sorry for him! … It’s the cause of much sin, money is. Do be so good and explain it to me!” he said, bowing low.
Egór Miháylovitch, as was his wont on such occasions, stood for a long time thoughtfully smacking his lips; and, having considered the matter, wrote two notes, and explained what was to be done in town, and how to do it.
When Doútlof got home, the young wife had already set off with Ignát. The fat grey