VI

At that very moment Egór Miháylovitch came out of the house. One cap after another was lifted, and as the steward approached, all the heads⁠—white, grey, red, brown, fair, or bald in front or on top⁠—were uncovered, and the voices were gradually silenced, till at last all was quiet.

Egór Miháylovitch stepped on to the porch, evidently intending to speak. In his long coat, his hands stuffed awkwardly into the pockets, his cap pulled over his forehead, he stood firmly, his feet apart, on this elevated place, lording it over all these heads⁠—mostly old, bearded and handsome⁠—that were turned towards him. He was now a different man from what he had been when he stood before his mistress. He was majestic.

“This is the mistress’s decision, lads! It is not her wish to give up any of the domestic serfs; but from among you, those whom you yourselves decide on, they shall go. Three are wanted this time. By rights only two and a half are wanted, but the half will be taken into account next time. It comes to the same thing: if it were not today, it would have to be tomorrow.”