XIV

When he had got out into the fresh air, Doútlof stepped aside from the road under the lime-trees, and even undid his girdle to get at his purse more easily, and began putting away the money. His lips were moving, stretching and drawing together again⁠—though he uttered no sound. Having put away his money and fastened his girdle, he crossed himself, and went staggering along the road as though he were drunk, so full was he of the thoughts that came rushing into his mind.

Suddenly he saw the figure of a man coming towards him. He shouted. It was Efím, with a cudgel in his hand, guarding the serfs’ house.

“Ah, Daddy Semyón!” said Efím joyfully, drawing nearer (Efím felt it uncanny to be alone). “Have you got the recruits off, daddy?”

“We have. What are you after?”

“Why, I’ve been put here to guard Polikéy that’s hanged.”

“And where is he?”