"I did not go to bed," answered Iermola; "but the baby slept sweetly. Only that miserable goat--"
"Oh, you will not have much trouble with her; she will become accustomed to you in a day or two if you feed her well. And so the little one slept?"
"Like a little angel! I am sure that there is not a baby in the world who sleeps better than he. You should see how intelligent he is! I believe he almost knows me, neighbour."
The orphan's adopted father was greatly astonished when the widow burst into a hearty laugh on hearing him say this. After that he kept silent, quite abashed.
"I really do not know why God did not give you a wife and children," said she, a moment later; "or rather, why He did not make you a woman."
She stopped suddenly; just outside the door a loud voice was heard, saying, "Ha, Iermola! old idiot, come here; you know very well that I expect you." It was the voice and the signal of the steward Hudny, who, having been already informed of the event of the evening before, desired by visiting the hut to see with his own eyes what had happened, so that he could relate the whole affair to his wife. The old man trembled at the approach of this stern master, whom he feared exceedingly, and whom he usually carefully avoided; but leaving the baby in the hands of his old friend, he hastened out of the hut.
The steward was mounted on a fat little horse, with a well-kept and glossy coat; he wore a gray cloak lined with lambskin, long boots, carried a whip in his hand, and had a cap pulled over his ears. One could see at a glance that he had not left his home fasting; and it was easy to perceive that he had fortified himself against the fog with the usual quantity of brandy. He was one of those stewards of the new regime, who had taken the place of the loyal and faithful servants of the old. To the defects of his predecessors, which he had preserved intact, he had taken care to add others peculiar to himself, and which were the penalty he paid to the advance of the times. The worthy Mr. Hudny, as former managers had done, treated the peasants as clowns and clodhoppers. He beat them, oppressed them, and rendered them miserable; moreover, he outrageously robbed and abused those who called him by the old title of manager, enjoining it upon his subordinates to address him as my lord the steward, and announcing to all who would listen to him that he should soon rent a large estate.
He and his wife lived like bugs in a rug, on this fine old deserted domain; they seized upon everything they could possibly take, and sought by every means in their power to escape from a position which was distasteful to them. Neither of them had any heart; but they possessed a revolting pride and an absolute want of principle, such as is manifested only in the ranks of a half-disorganized and deeply corrupted society. Two small bright eyes, a little crossed, which sparkled above a round red face, partly concealed by two enormous eyebrows, on account of their uncertain and conflicting expression, at once threatening and cowardly, gave at the first glance some idea of the character of the man. The rest of his rough and irregular features were partly concealed by his abundant beard and by the enormous whiskers which met under his chin.
Iermola bowed till his hands touched the ground.
"What are the orders of my lord the steward?" he asked.