“Does he beat you?”
“Never. He never beats me or screams at me,—never.”
“Well, I am glad of that. How could anybody strike a blind boy? It would be a sin.”
“He never strikes any one,” said Petrùsya, in an abstracted tone of voice, for his sensitive ear had caught the sound of Joachim’s steps.
In fact the tall figure of the Hohòl appeared a moment later on the summit of the rising ground that separated the estate from the shore, and his voice resounded through the tranquil evening air,—“Panitch!”
“They are calling you,” said the girl, rising.
“I know it; but I don’t want to go.”
“Oh, yes, do go. I will come to see you to-morrow. They are waiting for you now, and for me too.”
The girl was faithful to her promise, and appeared even earlier than Petrùsya could have expected her. The next day as he was sitting in his room at his daily lesson with Maxim, he suddenly raised his head, listened, and exclaimed eagerly, “May I go for a minute? The girl has come.”