"I don't know. Perhaps he will not come back at all."
"But has he been living here long?"
"No, not long; about a week. Now he is not here at all."
"But what was the family name of that baron?"
The maid-servant stared at me.
"Don't you know his name? We simply called him the baron. Hey, there! Piótr!" she cried, perceiving that I was pushing my way in.—"come hither: some stranger or other is asking all sorts of questions."
From the house there presented itself the shambling figure of a robust labourer.
"What's the matter? What's wanted?" he inquired in a hoarse voice,—and having listened to me with a surly mien, he repeated what the maid-servant had said.
"But who does live here?" I said.
"Our master."