A SPORTSMAN'S SKETCHES
'How was it? Did your master allow it?'
'They bought my freedom.'
'Who?'
'Savely Alexyevitch.'
'Who is that?'
'My husband.' (Yermolaï smiled to himself.) 'Has my master perhaps spoken to you of me?' added Arina, after a brief silence.
I did not know what reply to make to her question.
'Arina!' cried the miller from a distance. She got up and walked away.
'Is her husband a good fellow?' I asked Yermolaï.
'So-so.'
'Have they any children?'
'There was one, but it died.'
'How was it? Did the miller take a liking to her? Did he give much to buy her freedom?'
'I don't know. She can read and write; in their business it's of use. I suppose he liked her.'
'And have you known her long?'
'Yes. I used to go to her master's. Their house isn't far from here.'
'And do you know the footman Petrushka?'
'Piotr Vassilyevitch? Of course, I knew him.'
'Where is he now?'
'He was sent for a soldier.'
We were silent for a while.
'She doesn't seem well?' I asked Yermolaï at last.
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