“He wants to make the room tidy, and I’m in his way. I’m uncleanness, disorder,” he thought, and only said⁠—

“No, leave me alone.”

The servant still moved busily about his work. Ivan Ilyitch stretched out his hand. Pyotr went up to offer his services.

“What can I get you?”

“My watch.”

Pyotr got out the watch, which lay just under his hand, and gave it him.

“Half-past eight. Are they up?”

“Not yet, sir. Vladimir Ivanovitch” (that was his son) “has gone to the high school, and Praskovya Fyodorovna gave orders that she was to be waked if you asked for her. Shall I send word?”

“No, no need. Should I try some tea?” he thought.