“This is no time for us to think of sleep,” replied Anton. “Who would have thought that we should ever have come to this?”
“Softly,” interrupted Doubrovsky. “Where is Egorovna?”
“In the manor-house, in her room,” replied Grisha.
“Go and bring her here, and make all our people get out of the house; let not a soul remain in it except the officials; and you, Anton, get the cart ready.”
Grisha departed; a minute afterwards he returned with his mother. The old woman had not undressed that night; with the exception of the officials, nobody closed an eye.
“Are all here?” asked Doubrovsky. “Has anybody been left in the house?”
“Nobody, except the clerks,” replied Grisha.
“Bring here some hay or some straw,” said Doubrovsky. The servants ran to the stables and returned with armfuls of hay.
“Put it under the steps—that’s it. Now, my lads, a light!”
Arkhip opened the lantern and Doubrovsky kindled a torch.