"What dost thou mean by another man's house?"—muttered Akím.—"What master of the house?"
"Why, me, for example."
And Naúm screwed up his eyes, and displayed his white teeth in a grin.
"Thee, forsooth? Ain't I the master of the house?"
"What a stupid fellow thou art, my good fellow.—I am the master of the house, I tell thee."
Akím opened his eyes to their widest.
"What nonsense is that thou art prating, as though thou hadst eaten mad-wort?"—he said at last.—"How the devil dost thou come to be the master?"
"Well, what 's the use of talking to thee,"—shouted Naúm, impatiently.—"Dost see this document,"—he added, jerking out of his pocket a sheet of stamped paper folded in four:—"dost see it? This is a deed of sale, understand, a deed of sale for thy land, and for the inn; I have bought them from the landed proprietress, Lizavéta Prókhorovna. We signed the deed of sale yesterday, in B***—consequently, I am the master here, not thou. Gather up thy duds this very day,"—he added, putting the paper back in his pocket;—"and let there be not a sign of thee here by to-morrow; hearest thou?"
Akím stood as though he had been struck by lightning.