"Take it home, and count it. It's yours,—your money," said Duniasha severely. "Says she, 'I don't want it; let the man have it who found it.'"
Dutlof, not straightening himself up, fixed his eyes on Duniasha.
Duniasha's aunt also clapped her hands. "Goodness gracious![26] God has given you such luck! Goodness gracious!"
The second girl could not believe it. "You're joking! Did really Avdót'ya Nikolóvna say that?"
"What do you mean—joking! She told me to give it to the muzhík. Now take your money, and be off," said Duniasha, not hiding her vexation. "One has sorrow, another joy."
"It must be a joke,—fifteen hundred rubles!" said the aunt.
"More than that," said Duniasha sharply. "Now you will place a great big candle for Mikola,"[27] she continued maliciously. "What! have you lost your wits? It would be good for some poor fellow. And you have so much of your own."
Dutlof finally arrived at a comprehension that it was meant in earnest; and he began to fold together and smooth down the envelope with the money, which in the counting he had burst open: but his hands trembled, and he kept looking at the women, to persuade himself that it was not a jest.
"You see you haven't come to your senses with joy," said Duniasha, making it evident that she despised both the muzhík and money. "Give it to me, I'll fix it for you."
And she offered to take it, but Dutlof did not trust it in her hands. He doubled the money up, thrust it in still farther, and took his cap.