But she laughed happily, and went on talking till Lunev often felt defiled with her words as with pitch. But if she read in his face any hostile feeling, or perceived in his eyes any weariness, or distress, or sorrow, she knew how to kindle his desire afresh and banish by her caresses all feelings hostile to her influence.
One day when Ilya returned from the shop, where already the joiners were putting in the shelves, he saw to his astonishment, Matiza in the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, her big hands folded in her lap, and conversing with the mistress of the house, who was standing by the hearth.
"Here," said Tatiana, and nodded at Matiza, "this lady has been waiting for you, for ever so long."
"Good evening!" said Matiza, and got up clumsily.
"Why," cried Ilya, "are you still living?"
"Even pigs don't eat dirty bits of wood," answered Matiza in her deep voice.
Ilya had not seen her for a long time, and looked at her now with mingled feelings of compassion and pleasure. She was dressed in ragged fustian, an old faded kerchief covered her head, her feet were bare. She moved with difficulty, but supporting herself with her hands on the wall, she crept slowly into Ilya's room, sat heavily in a chair, and spoke in a hoarse toneless voice:
"I shall soon die. You see, I can hardly move my feet, and when I can't walk, I can't find food, and then I must die."
Her face was horribly bloated and covered with dark flecks. The big eyes were hardly visible between the swollen lids.
"What are you looking at?" she said to Ilya. "You think some one has struck me? No, it is a disease, devouring me."