"There's one difficulty . . . you know the deaf man, Gerasim, he's courting you, you see. How did you come to bewitch such a bear? But you see, he'll kill you, very like, he's such a bear . . ."
"He'll kill me, Gavrila Andreitch, he'll kill me, and no mistake."
"Kill you. . . . Well we shall see about that. What do you mean by saying he'll kill you? Has he any right to kill you? tell me yourself."
"I don't know, Gavrila Andreitch, about his having any right or not."
"What a woman! why, you've made him no promise, I suppose . . ."
"What are you pleased to ask of me?"
The steward was silent for a little, thinking, "You're a meek soul! Well, that's right," he said aloud; "we'll have another talk with you later, now you can go, Taniusha; I see you're not unruly, certainly."
Tatiana turned, steadied herself a little against the doorpost, and went away.
"And, perhaps, our lady will forget all about this wedding by to-morrow," thought the steward; "and here am I worrying myself for nothing! As for that insolent fellow, we must tie him down if it comes to that, we must let the police know . . . Ustinya Fyedorovna!" he shouted in a loud voice to his wife, "heat the samovar, my good soul . . ." All that day Tatiana hardly
