"I have cooked, but not for you. You seem to have drunk away your senses, I see. You went to get a fur coat, and come back without your caftan, and have even brought some kind of a naked tramp with you. I have no supper for you drunkards."
"Stop, Matréna! What is the use of wagging your tongue without any sense? First ask what kind of a man it is—"
"Tell me what you did with the money."
Semén stuck his hand into the caftan, took out the bill, and opened it before her.
"Here is the money. Trifónov has not paid me,—he promised to give it to me to-morrow."
That enraged Matréna even more: he had bought no fur coat, and the only caftan they had he had put on a naked fellow, and had even brought him along.
She grabbed the bill from the table, and ran to put it away, and said:
"I have no supper. One cannot feed all the drunkards."
"Oh, Matréna, hold your tongue. First hear what I have to say—"