The hut in which Belétski lived was like Olénin’s. It was raised nearly five feet from the ground on wooden piles, and had two rooms. In the first (which Olénin entered by the steep flight of steps) feather beds, rugs, blankets, and cushions were tastefully and handsomely arranged, Cossack fashion, along the main wall. On the side wall hung brass basins and weapons, while on the floor, under a bench, lay watermelons and pumpkins. In the second room there was a big brick oven, a table, and sectarian icons. It was here that Belétski was quartered, with his camp-bed and his pack and trunks. His weapons hung on the wall with a little rug behind them, and on the table were his toilet appliances and some portraits. A silk dressing-gown had been thrown on the bench. Belétski himself, clean and good-looking, lay on the bed in his underclothing, reading Les Trois Mousquetaires.
He jumped up.
“There, you see how I have arranged things. Fine! Well, it’s good that you have come. They are working furiously. Do you know what the pie is made of? Dough with a stuffing of pork and grapes. But that’s not the point. You just look at the commotion out there!”
And really, on looking out of the window they saw an unusual bustle going on in the hut. Girls ran in and out, now for one thing and now for another.
“Will it soon be ready?” cried Belétski.
“Very soon! Why? Is Grandad hungry?” and from the hut came the sound of ringing laughter.
Ústenka, plump, small, rosy, and pretty, with her sleeves turned up, ran into Belétski’s hut to fetch some plates.
“Get away or I shall smash the plates!” she squeaked, escaping from Belétski. “You’d better come and help,” she shouted to Olénin, laughing. “And don’t forget to get some refreshments for the girls.” (“Refreshments” meaning spicebread and sweets.)
“And has Maryánka come?”
“Of course! She brought some dough.”