“The devil take them! Throw them into the oven, if you wish,” said the gloomy man, throwing them into another corner.

“Nástka, you are a clever girl,” said the tailor. “A pilgrim has to be made comfortable.”

“Christ save you, girl! That is nice,” said Tíkhonovna. “I am afraid I have put you out, dear man,” she said, turning to Pankrát.

“All right,” said Pankrát.

Tíkhonovna sat down on the bench, having taken off her coat and carefully folded it, and began to take off her footgear. At first she untied the laces, which she had taken special care in twisting smooth for her pilgrimage; then she carefully unwrapped the white lambskin leg-rags and, carefully rubbing them soft, placed them on her wallet. Just as she was working on her other foot, another of awkward Marína’s pots got caught and spilled over, and she again started to scold somebody, catching the pot with the fork.