Suddenly there was a rustling in the passage, a low voice was heard and a hand fumbled at the door for the latch. The friends waited in silence. The door opened slowly, and Perfishka staggered in: he stumbled on the threshold and fell on his knees, holding up his harmonica.
"Prr,"—he said, and laughed drunkenly.
Immediately behind him Matiza crept into the room. She bent over the cobbler, took his arm and tried to lift him up, saying with stammering tongue:
"Ah! How drunk he is! Oh, you soaker!"
"Don't touch me, jade! I'll stand alone, quite alone."
He swayed hither and thither, but got on his legs with difficulty, and came up to the two friends: he stretched out his left hand and cried:
"Welcome to my house!"
Matiza laughed, a deep, silly laugh.
"Where do you come from?" asked Ilya.
Jakov looked at the two with a smile and said nothing.