"Kiríllovna, order the servants to give the merchant tea.—I will see you later on,"—she added, with a slight inclination of her head.
Naúm bowed again, and left the room in company with Kiríllovna.
Lizavéta Prókhorovna paced up and down the room a couple of times, then rang the bell again. This time a page entered. She ordered him to summon Kiríllovna. In a few moments Kiríllovna entered, with barely a squeak of her new goat's-leather shoes.
"Didst thou hear,"—began Lizavéta Prókhorovna, with a constrained smile,—"what that merchant is proposing to me? Such a queer man, really!"
"No, ma'am, I did n't hear.... What is it, ma'am?"—And Kiríllovna slightly narrowed her little, black, Kalmýk eyes.
"He wants to buy Akím's inn from me."
"And what of that, ma'am?"
"Why, seest thou .... But how about Akím? I have given it to Akím."
"And, good gracious, my lady, what is it you are pleased to say? Is n't that inn yours? Are n't we your property, pray? And everything we have,—is n't that also the property of the mistress?"
"Mercy me, what 's that thou 'rt saying, Kiríllovna?"—Lizavéta Prókhorovna got out her batiste handkerchief and nervously blew her nose.—"Akím bought that inn out of his own money."