The master withdrew his head, and the door was tightly closed.
"Who died?" Yevsey thought as he lay in bed.
The dry words of the old man came fluttering down and fluttering down, like autumn leaves upon a grave. The boy felt more and more distinctly that he lived in a circle of dread mystery. Sometimes the old man grew angry, and shouted; which prevented the boy from thinking or sleeping. He was sorry for Rayisa, who kept peacefully silent in answer to his ejaculations. At last Yevsey heard her go to her own room. Perfect stillness then prevailed in the master's room for several minutes, after which Raspopov's voice sounded again, but now even as usual:
"Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sit—"
With these reassuring words ringing in his ears Yevsey fell asleep.
The next morning Rayisa again called him to her.
"What happened in the shop yesterday?" she asked with a smile when he had seated himself.
Yevsey told her everything in detail, and she laughed contentedly and happily. She suddenly drew her brows together and asked in an undertone:
"Do you understand who he is?"
"No."