In a quarter of an hour Akím had reached Lizavéta Prókhorovna's manor, had dashed up to the porch, had leaped from the cart, and burst straight into the anteroom.
"What dost thou want?"—muttered the startled footman, who was sweetly dozing on the locker.
"The mistress—I must see the mistress," vociferated Akím loudly.
The lackey was astounded.
"Has anything happened?"—he began.
"Nothing has happened, but I must see the mistress."
"What, what?"—said the lackey, more and more astounded, straightening himself up.
Akím recovered himself... It was as though he had been drenched with cold water.
"Announce to the mistress, Piótr Evgráfitch,"—he said, with a low obeisance,—"that Akím wishes to see her...."
"Good,... I will go .... I will announce thee .... but evidently thou art drunk. Wait,"—grumbled the lackey, and withdrew.