And they thrashed her, thrashed her for it at home.⁠ ⁠… Marya Stepanovna cried, ‘I’ll wipe her off the face of the earth!’ ‘In ancient years,’ says the old man, ‘in the time of the worthy patriarchs, I should have chopped her to pieces at the stake, but nowadays it’s all darkness and rottenness.’ Sometimes the neighbours all along the street would hear Akulka howling⁠—they beat her from morning till night. Filka would shout for the whole marketplace to hear: ‘Akulka’s a fine wench to drink with,’ says he. ‘You walk in fine array, who’s your lover, pray! I’ve made them feel it,’ says he, ‘they won’t forget it.’