“A sin? Where’s the sin?” said the old man emphatically. “A sin to look at a nice girl? A sin to have some fun with her? Or is it a sin to love her? Is that so in your parts? ... No, my dear fellow, it’s not a sin, it’s salvation! God made you and God made the girl too. He made it all; so it is no sin to look at a nice girl. That’s what she was made for; to be loved and to give joy. That’s how I judge it, my good fellow.”
Having crossed the yard and entered a cool dark storeroom filled with barrels, Maryánka went up to one of them and repeating the usual prayer plunged a dipper into it. Vanyúsha standing in the doorway smiled as he looked at her. He thought it very funny that she had only a smock on, close-fitting behind and tucked up in front, and still funnier that she wore a necklace of silver coins. He thought this quite un-Russian and that they would all laugh in the serfs’ quarters at home if they saw a girl like that. “La fille comme c’est tres bien, for a change,” he thought. “I’ll tell that to my master.”
“What are you standing in the light for, you devil!” the girl suddenly shouted. “Why don’t you pass me the decanter!”
Having filled the decanter with cool red wine, Maryánka handed it to Vanyúsha.
“Give the money to Mother,” she said, pushing away the hand in which he held the money.
Vanyúsha laughed.
“Why are you so cross, little dear?” he said good-naturedly, irresolutely shuffling with his feet while the girl was covering the barrel.
She began to laugh.
“And you! Are you kind?”
“We, my master and I, are very kind,” Vanyúsha answered decidedly. “We are so kind that wherever we have stayed our hosts were always very grateful. It’s because he’s generous.”