"Yes."
"But where is he?"
"Why, in the village; he 's sitting in his cottage."
Avdótya quailed.
"Well, Petróvitch,"—she asked, looking him straight in the eye,—"is he angry?"
"'T is not perceptible that he is."
Avdótya dropped her eyes.
"Well, come along,"—she said, throwing on a large kerchief, and the two set out. They walked in silence until they reached the village. But when they began to draw near to the cottage, Avdótya was seized with such alarm that her knees trembled under her.
"Dear little father, Petróvitch,"—she said,—"do thou go in first.... Tell him that I have come."
Petróvitch entered the cottage and found Akím sitting buried in profound thought, on the selfsame spot where he had left him.