Olénin felt surprised that Belétski could address this woman so easily. But Maryánka, as though she had not heard him, bent her head, and throwing the spade across her shoulder went with her firm masculine tread towards the outhouse.
“She’s shy, the wench is shy,” Belétski called after her. “Shy of you,” he added as, smiling gaily, he ran up the steps of the porch.
“How is it you are having a ball and have been driven out?”
“It’s at Ústenka’s, at my landlady’s, that the ball is, and you two are invited. A ball consists of a pie and a gathering of girls.”
“What should we do there?”
Belétski smiled knowingly and winked, jerking his head in the direction of the outhouse into which Maryánka had disappeared.
Olénin shrugged his shoulders and blushed.
“Well, really you are a strange fellow!” said he.
“Come now, don’t pretend”
Olénin frowned, and Belétski noticing this smiled insinuatingly. “Oh, come, what do you mean?” he said, “living in the same house—and such a fine girl, a splendid girl, a perfect beauty—”