“Well, then, let’s have it.”

“I dared not even go home first to⁠ ⁠…” Doútlof continued, still not parting with the precious envelope. “Inform the lady of it.”

Dounyásha took it from him and went again to her mistress.

“O my God! Dounyásha, don’t speak to me of that money!” said the lady in a reproachful tone. “Only to remember that little infant.⁠ ⁠…”

“The peasant does not know to whom you desire it to be given, madam,” Dounyásha again said.

The lady opened the envelope, shuddering at the sight of the money, and became thoughtful.

“Dreadful money! How much evil it causes!” she said.

“It is Doútlof, madam. Will you give orders for him to go, or will you please come out and see him⁠—and is it all there⁠—the money?” asked Dounyásha.