Dutlof, still moving his lips, went home. At first, it was hard for
him; but in proportion as he drew near the village, this feeling passed
away, and a feeling of pleasure more and more penetrated his heart.
Songs and drunken voices were heard in the village. Dutlof never drank,
and now he went straight home. It was already late when he reached
his cottage.[32] His old woman was asleep. His oldest son and the
grand-children were asleep on the oven, the other son in the closet.
The nephew's wife[33] was the only person awake; and she, in a dirty,
every-day shirt, with her hair unkempt, was sitting on the bench and
weeping. She did not get up to open the door for the uncle, but began
to weep more bitterly, and to reproach him, as soon as he came into the
cottage. By the old woman's advice she talked very clearly and well,
though, being still young, she could not have had any practice.
The old woman got up, and began to get her husband something to eat.
Dutlof drove his nephew's wife away from the table. "That'll do!
that'll do!" said he. Aksínya got up, and then throwing herself down
on the bench still continued to weep. The old woman silently set the
things on the table, and then put them in order. The old man also
refrained from saying a single word. After performing his devotions, he
belched once or twice, washed his hands, and, taking the abacus down
from the nail, went to his closet. There he began to whisper with his
old wife: then the old woman left him alone, and he began to rattle the
abacus; finally he lifted the lid of a chest, and climbed down into a
sort of cellar. He rummaged round long in the closet and in the cellar.
When he came out, it was dark in the cottage; the pitch-pine knot had
burnt out.
The old woman, who by day was ordinarily mild and quiet, had retired to
her room, and was snoring so as to be heard all over the cottage. The
noisy niece,[34] on the other hand, was also asleep, and her breathing
could not be heard. She was asleep on the bench just as she was, not
having undressed, and without any thing under her head. Dutlof said his
prayers, then glanced at his niece, raised her head a little, slipped a
stick under it, and, after belching again, climbed upon the oven, and
lay down next his grandson. In the darkness he took off his shoes, and
lay on his back, and tried to make out the objects on the stove, barely
visible above his head; and listened to the cockroaches rustling over
the wall, to the breathing, and the restless moving of feet, and to the
noises of the cattle in the yard.
It was long before he went to sleep. The moon came up, and it grew
lighter in the cottage. He could see Aksínya in the corner, and
something which he could not make out. Was it a cloak that his son
had forgotten? or had the women left a tub there? or was it some one
standing? Whether he drowsed or not, who can say? but now he began to
look again.... Evidently that dark spirit which led Ilyitch to commit
the terrible deed, and which impressed the domestics that night with
its presence,--evidently that spirit spread its pinions over the whole
estate, and over Dutlof's cottage, where was concealed that money which
_he_ enjoyed at the cost of Ilyitch's ruin. At all events, Dutlof
felt _it_ there. And Dutlof was not in his usual spirits,--could not
sleep, nor sit up. When he saw something that he could not explain, he
remembered his nephew with his pinioned arms, he remembered Aksínya's
face and her flowing discourse, he remembered Ilyitch with his dangling
hands.
Suddenly it seemed to the old man that some one passed by the window.
"What is that? Can it be the elder[35] has come to ask the news?"
he said to himself. "How did he unlock the door?" the old man asked
himself in surprise, hearing steps in the entry; "or did the old woman
leave it open when she went to the door?" The dog howled in the back
yard, but IT passed along the entry, and, as the old man afterwards
related the story, seemed to hunt for the door, passed by, once more
tried to feel along the wall, stumbled across the tub, and it rang.
And once more IT tried to feel along the wall, actually found the
latch-string. Then IT took hold of it. A chill ran over the old man's
body. Here the latch was lifted, and the form of a man came in. Dutlof
already knew that it was IT. He tried to get hold of his cross, but
could not. IT came to the table, on which lay a cloth, threw it on the
floor, and came to the oven. The old man knew that IT was in Ilyitch's
form. He trembled; his hands shook. IT came to the oven, threw itself
on the old man, and began to choke him.
"My money," said _Ilyitch._