“Ivan does not write to her—I know that.”
“Now, now, as for writing, Masha, could Grusha read if he did? Ivan may have been fool enough to remember her but even a peasant does not like his love letters read from the house-tops.”
“But Grusha could take his letters to the doctor or the deacon. They would read them to her alone.”
“Would they? A man is a man, doctor or deacon. He may keep another man’s secret, but a woman’s—no. Come, child, Grusha will marry whom God wills, and meantime, let her have rope. All is for the best. Did Grusha know Ivan faithful to her, she would not have this curiosity which makes her wish to wait and see how he will act when he finds her waiting. Meantime, Alioscha is the best singer and dancer in the village. And what could the village have to talk of but for her behavior? For your part, eat, drink, sleep on the top of the stove at night, and work by day. Let each hold up his share of the burden, and all will go well.”
Masha listened, sighed, and assented.
The next day, as Anna Evauovna was walking in the field near the village street, she heard sounds of music, the clapping of hands and beating of feet in measured time, and loud shouts. She might have walked to the isba whence the sounds came, and inquired the cause, but that was not Anna Evauovna’s way. She slipped behind a hedge, and walking along in its shadow, reached the spot where the merry-making was taking place.
MASHA CLASPED HER HANDS
“AND DOES THAT LEAVE THE KING OF CLUBS TO ME?”