“You don’t say so, sir,”—articulated Vladímir Sergyéitch, narrowing his eyes.
At that moment, Flitch was invited to a cardgame, and the conversation terminated.
Vladímir Sergyéitch had intended to return home promptly; but suddenly he received by special messenger a report from the overseer, that six of the peasants’ homesteads had burned down in Sásovo, and he decided to go thither himself. The distance from the government capital to Sásovo was reckoned at sixty versts. Vladímir Sergyéitch arrived toward evening at the wing with which the reader is already acquainted, immediately gave orders that the overseer and clerk should be summoned, scolded them both in proper fashion, inspected the scene of the conflagration next morning, took the necessary measures, and after dinner, after some wavering, set off to visit Ipátoff. Vladímir Sergyéitch would have remained at home, had he not heard from Flitch of Nadézhda Alexyéevna’s departure; he did not wish to meet her; but he was not averse to taking another look at Márya Pávlovna.
Vladímir Sergyéitch, as on the occasion of his first visit, found Ipátoff busy at draughts with The Folding Soul. The old man was delighted to see him; yet it seemed to Vladímir Sergyéitch as though his face were troubled, and his speech did not flow freely and readily as of old.
Vladímir Sergyéitch exchanged a silent glance with Iván Ílitch. Both winced a little; but they speedily recovered their serenity.
“Are all your family well?”—inquired Vladímir Sergyéitch.
“Yes, thank God, I thank you sincerely,”—replied Ipátoff.—“Only Márya Pávlovna isn’t quite ... you know, she stays in her room most of the time.”
“Has she caught cold?”
“No ... she just likes to. She will make her appearance at tea.”
“And Egór Kapítonitch? What is he doing?”