Vladimir listened to him with contempt and made no reply.
“We have resolved,” continued the assessor, “with your permission, to remain here for the night, as it is already dark, and your peasants might attack us on the road. Be kind enough to order some hay to be put down for us on the parlour floor, as soon as it is daylight, we will take our departure.”
“Do what you please,” replied Doubrovsky drily: “I am no longer master here.”
With these words he entered into his fathers room and locked the door behind him.
[1] Diminutive of Gregory.
[2] To meet a priest is considered a bad omen in Russia.
CHAPTER VI.
“And so, all is finished!” said Vladimir to himself. “This morning I had a corner and a piece of bread; to-morrow I must leave the house where I was born. My father, with the ground where he reposes, will belong to that hateful man, the cause of his death and of my ruin!”... Vladimir clenched his teeth and fixed his eyes upon the portrait of his mother. The artist had represented her leaning upon a balustrade, in a white morning dress, with a rose in her hair.