Kornéy, without replying, lifted his portmanteau and carried it to the door.

“Felon!⁠ ⁠… Brigand!⁠ ⁠… Just you wait! Do you think there’s no law for the likes of you?” said she bitterly, and in quite a different voice.

Kornéy, without answering, pushed the door with his foot, and slammed it so violently that the walls shook.

Going into the other part of the house, Kornéy roused the dumb lad and told him to harness the horse. The lad, half awake, looked at his uncle with astonishment, questioningly, and scratched his head with both hands. At last, understanding what was wanted of him, he jumped up, drew on his high felt boots and torn coat, took a lantern, and went to the door.

It was already quite light when Kornéy, in the small sledge, drove out of the gateway with the dumb lad, and went back along the same road he had driven over in the evening with Kouzmá.