“‘A fellow without a shirt to his back like you ought to be only too happy to marry my daughter;’ that’s what old Aukoudim said.
“‘Just you think of your door, and the pitch that went on it,’ I said to him.
“‘Stuff and nonsense,’ said he, ‘there’s no proof whatever that the girl’s gone wrong.’
“‘Please yourself. There’s the door, and you can go about your business; but give back the money you’ve had!’
“Then Philka Marosof and I settled it together to send Mitri Bykoff to Father Aukoudim to tell him that we’d insult him to his face before everybody. Well, I had my skin as full as it could hold right up to the wedding-day. I wasn’t sober till I got into the church. When they took us home after church the girl’s uncle, Mitrophone Stépanytch, said:
“‘This isn’t a nice business; but it’s over and done now.’
“Old Aukoudim was sitting there crying, the tears rolled down on his gray beard. Comrade, I’ll tell you what I had done: I had put a whip into my pocket before we went to church, and I’d made up my mind to have it out of her with that, so that all the world might know how I’d been swindled into the marriage, and not think me a bigger fool than I am.”
“I see, and you wanted her to know what was in store for her. Ah, was——?”
“Quiet, nunky, quiet! Among our people I’ll tell you how it is; directly after the marriage ceremony they take the couple to a room apart, and the others remain drinking till they return. So I’m left alone with Akoulka; she was pale, not a bit of colour on her cheeks; frightened out of her wits. She had fine hair, supple and bright as flax, and great big eyes. She scarcely ever was known to speak; you might have thought she was dumb; an odd creature, Akoulka, if ever there was one. Well, you can just imagine the scene. My whip was ready on the bed. Well, she was as pure a girl as ever was, not a word of it all was true.”