“Avtonomov, mercy.... We never knew any one of that name.... I don’t know you.... Wait a moment and I’ll call some one. Fedosya, oh, Fedosya!... Come here quick....”
“Don’t call, mother.... I won’t disturb you.... Have you really forgotten Avtonomov?... I used to be called Genasha....”
The old woman got up, took the candle and held it out of the window. There was no breeze. The flame burned steadily and illuminated the bushes, the walls of the house, and the wrinkled face of the old woman with her glasses pressed up on her forehead.
“That voice sounded familiar.... Where are you?... If you’re a good man——”
She held the candle above her head and the light fell on Avtonomov. The old woman staggered, but just then another woman entered the room. The old woman grew bolder and again threw the light on Avtonomov.
“Fine,” she said coldly. “The suitor, of course.... What are you walking around under the window for?...”
“I happened to be passing, Olimpiada Nikolayevna——”
“Passing, and would pass.... See here, when the master returns, he’ll set the dogs on you.”
She closed the window and lowered the curtain. The bushes disappeared, and the figure of Avtonomov was lost in the darkness.