‘Yes, father,’ responded Anna Martinovna. ‘Only what am I to play the
young gentleman? He won’t find it interesting.’
‘Why, what did they teach you at your young ladies’ seminary?’
‘I’ve forgotten everything--besides, the notes are broken.’
Anna Martinovna’s voice was very pleasant, resonant and rather
plaintive--like the note of some birds of prey.
‘Very well,’ said Martin Petrovitch, and he lapsed into dreaminess
again. ‘Well,’ he began once more, ‘wouldn’t you like, then, to see
the threshing-floor, and have a look round? Volodka will escort
you.--Hi, Volodka!’ he shouted to his son-in-law, who was still pacing
up and down the yard with my horse, ‘take the young gentleman to the
threshing-floor … and show him my farming generally. But I must have a
nap! So! good-bye!’
He went out and I after him. Anna Martinovna at once set to work
rapidly, and, as it were, angrily, clearing the table. In the doorway,
I turned and bowed to her. But she seemed not to notice my bow, and
only smiled again, more maliciously than before.
I took my horse from Harlov’s son-in-law and led him by the bridle. We
went together to the threshing-floor, but as we discovered nothing very
remarkable about it, and as he could not suppose any great interest in
farming in a young lad like me, we returned through the garden to the
main road.