YERMOLAÏ AND THE MILLER'S WIFE
cottage; he soon came back to the gate. 'No, he said; 'the master tells me not to let you in.'
'Why not?'
'He is afraid; you are sportsmen; you might set the mill on fire; you've firearms with you, to be sure.'
'But what nonsense!'
'We had our mill on fire like that last year; some fish-dealers stayed the night, and they managed to set it on fire somehow.'
But, my good friend, we can't sleep in the open air!'
'That's your business.' He went away, his boots clacking as he walked.
Yermolaï promised him various unpleasant things in the future. 'Let us go to the village,' he brought out at last, with a sigh. But it was two miles to the village.
'Let us stay the night here,' I said,' in the open air—the night is warm; the miller will let us have some straw if we pay for it.'
Yermolaï agreed without discussion. We began again to knock.
'Well, what do you want?' the workman's voice was heard again; 'I've told you we can't.'
We explained to him what we wanted. He went to consult the master of the house, and returned with him. The little side gate creaked. The miller appeared, a tall, fat-faced man with a bull-neck, round-bellied and corpulent. He agreed to my proposal. A hundred paces from the mill
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