"Drink it, my neighbour, it comforts the blood."
Ilya stepped up to the cobbler, caught him by the shoulder, and shook him, till he fell against the stove.
"Where's your daughter?" he said commandingly.
"And oh! his daughter she vanished away,
In the midnight hour, ere the break of day,"
babbled Perfishka, and held his head with his hand.
Jakov attempted to get the truth from Matiza, but she only said smirking: "I won't tell. I won't. I won't."
"They've sold her, the devils," said Ilya to his friend, gloomily. Jakov looked at him in terror, then asked the cobbler almost weeping:
"Perfishka! listen—Where is Mashutka?"
"Mashutka?" repeated Matiza, scornfully. "Aha! you see. Now you remember."
"Ilya! what shall we do?" cried Jakov full of anxiety.