"Well!—what's to be done?" asked Grigori at last in a higher key.
"Yes, what's to be done?" replied Matrona indifferently, drying the teacups.
"You had better not play me any tricks, you serpent!—you had better not, or you will get one over the head!" raged Orloff. "It may be I am going to my death!"
"Well, don't go then—I don't send you," replied Matrona quietly.
"Anyhow, I know that you are glad I am going," continued Orloff with a sneer.
She was for once silent. This silence aggravated his rage, but he controlled himself so as not to destroy this moment of resolution by a horrid scene of wife-beating.
And suddenly there entered his mind a thought, which appeared to him more diabolical than the aggravating mood of his wife.
"I feel certain you want me to be underground," he said, "but just wait a little—we'll see who gets there first!—yes, that we will! I'll do something that will settle your business, my good woman!"
He jumped up from the table, took his cap in his hand, and hurried out. Matrona remained behind alone. She was dissatisfied with the result of her manoeuvres, and upset by his threats. With a steadily growing feeling of fear, she thought about the future. She looked out of the window and whispered softly to herself, "Oh! Lord God! King of heaven! Holy Mother of God!"
She sat for a long time at the table, filled with terror-stricken presentiments, trying in vain to guess what was really the matter with Grigori. Before her stood the clean tea-things. The setting sun threw a great streak of light across the massive wall of the neighbour's house, which stood opposite the window of their room; the whiteness of the wall reflected this light, causing it to fall straight across the cellar and sparkle on the glass sugar-basin standing in front of Matrona. She watched with wrinkled brow this glimmer of light till her eyes grew tired. Then she rose, put the tea-things away, and lay down on the bed; she was feeling anxious and heavy-hearted.