"You looked through the books for two hours or more, agreed on a price, and suddenly—why?" cried the old man in excitement.
"Well, because I recollected your disgusting face. You haven't given up the ghost yet? What a pity!"
The stooping man pronounced his words slowly, not loud, and precisely. He left the shop deliberately, with a heavy tread.
For a minute the old man looked after him, then tore himself from where he was standing, and advanced upon Yevsey with short steps.
"Follow him, find out where he lives," he said in a rapid whisper, clutching the boy's shoulder. "Go! Don't let him see you! You understand? Quick!"
Yevsey swayed from side to side, and would have fallen, had the old man not held him firmly on his feet. He felt a void in his breast, and his master's words crackled there drily like peas in a rattle.
"What are you trembling about, you donkey? I tell you—"
When Yevsey felt his master's hand release his shoulder, he ran to the door.
"Stop, you fool!" Yevsey stood still. "Where are you going? Why, you won't be able—oh, my God! Get out of my sight!"
Yevsey darted into a corner. It was the first time he had seen his master so violent. He realized that his annoyance was tinged with much fear, a feeling very familiar to himself; and notwithstanding the fact that his own soul was desolate with fear, it pleased him to see Raspopov's alarm.