decisively for the last time, so that it may never come up again.'
Pyetushkov made his way with rapid step to the baker's shop. The nephew of the hired man, Luka, a little boy, friend and confidant of the goat that lived in the yard, darted swiftly to the little gate, directly he caught sight of Ivan Afanasiitch in the distance.
Praskovia Ivanovna came out to meet Pyetushkov.
'Is your niece at home?' asked Pyetushkov.
'No, sir.'
Pyetushkov was inwardly relieved at Vassilissa's absence.
'I came to have a few words with you, Praskovia Ivanovna.'
'What about, my good sir?'
'I'll tell you. You comprehend that after all . . . that has passed . . . after such, so to say, behaviour (Pyetushkov was a little confused) . . . in a word . . . But, pray, don't be angry with me, though.'
'Certainly not, sir.'
'On the contrary, enter into my position, Praskovia Ivanovna.'
'Certainly, sir.'
'You're a reasonable woman, you'll understand of yourself, that . . . that I can't go on coming to see you any more.'
'Certainly, sir,' Praskovia Ivanovna repeated slowly.
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