"I do not wish this money. This is horrible money. What harm it has done! Tell him that he may have it if he wants it," suddenly exclaimed the lady, seizing Duniasha's hand.
"Fifteen hundred rubles," remarked Duniasha, smiling gently as to a child.
"Let him have it all," repeated the lady impatiently. "Why, don't you understand me? This is misfortune's money: don't ever speak about it to me again. Let this muzhík have it, if he brought it. Go, go right away!"
Duniasha returned into the sitting-room.
"Was it all there?" asked Dutlof.
"Count for yourself," said Duniasha, handing him the envelope: "she told me to give it to you."
Dutlof stuffed his cap under his arm, and bending over tried to count.
"Haven't you got a counting-machine?"
Dutlof understood that it was a whim of the mistress's not to count, and that she had bidden him to do it.