"Yes, brother, it's splendid to make love in the bosom of Nature, in the shade of the leaves as they say in books."
"But if Tatiana Vlassyevna knew?"
"She won't know, brother," answered Kirik, and winked cheerfully.
But when Avtonomov departed Ilya thought of his words, and felt hurt. It was evident that Kirik, good-tempered and ridiculous though he were, yet held himself to be a man out of the common, whom Ilya could not hope to equal, higher in station and more important. Yet he profited by the business Ilya carried on with his wife. Perfishka had told them that Petrusha laughed at his shop and called him a rascal. Jakov had said to the cobbler that formerly Ilya was better and more friendly than now and did not think so much of himself, and Gavrik's sister constantly demonstrated that she thought herself superior to him. The daughter of a postman, who went about almost in rags, behaved as though it were too much for her to live on the same world as he did. Ilya's ambition had grown since he had opened his shop, and he was more sensitive than before. His interest deepened in this girl who was so ugly, but had so strong a personality; he sought to understand whence came this pride in a poor ragged girl, a pride which grew to annoy him more and more. At first she would not talk to him, and that pained him. Her brother was his servant, and therefore she ought to be more friendly with him, the employer. He said to her once:
"I'm reading the book of 'Don Quixote.'"
"Well, do you like it?" she asked, without looking at him.
"Rather, most amusing,—he was a funny old owl that fellow!"
She looked at him, and Ilya felt as though her proud dark eyes pierced his face angrily.
"I knew you would say something like that," she said, slowly and with meaning.
Ilya was conscious of something reproachful, contemptuous and hostile in her words.