“Who?”
“Those wanderers, people of God.... Please see what they’re doing in that hut! Go, look: it’s nothing; don’t be ashamed....”
I walked up to the window. The hut was full. The peasants of the village were all away on business and so there were only women present. A few young women and girls were still running back and forth past me. The windows were open and illuminated, and I could hear within the even voice of Avtonomov. He was teaching the dissenters.
“Come, join us,” I suddenly heard the low voice of Ivan Ivanovich. He was standing in a dark corner near the gate.
“What are you doing?”
“Fooling the people. That’s what they’re doing,” interrupted Andrey Ivanovich.
The little wanderer coughed, and, squinting at Andrey Ivanovich, he said:
“What can we do, sir?”
He bent toward me and whispered:
“The old dissenters think Gennady Sergeich is a runaway priest. It’s dark. What can we do? We may not get anything. And, besides, there’s nothing else to do. Won’t you come in?”