He did as Agatha suggested. On reaching the Zinóvyefs’ house he asked leave to spend the night there. They let him in.
On entering the hut he, as usual, crossed himself before the icon, and greeted his hosts.
“You’re frozen, daddy! Get up on to the oven!” said the wrinkled cheerful old housewife, clearing away the things on the table.
Agatha’s husband, a young-looking peasant, sat on a bench by the table, trimming the lamp.
“How wet you are, daddy!” said he. “Well, it can’t be helped. Make haste and dry yourself!”
Kornéy took off his coat, bared his feet, hung his leg-bands up to dry near the oven, and himself climbed on to the top of it.
Agatha entered the hut, carrying a jug. She had already driven the herd home, and had attended to the cattle.