there's an end of it,' pursued Ivan Afanasiitch, walking up and down the room, rubbing his hands, and, as it were, resuming his ancient rights. 'Amen! and now I'd better have a pipe.'
Praskovia Ivanovna still did not move from her place. . .
'I see you are angry with me,' said Pyetushkov. 'I've offended you, perhaps. Well! well! forgive me generously.'
'How could you offend me, my good sir? No offence about it. . . Only, please, sir,' added Praskovia Ivanovna, bowing, 'be so good as not to go on coming to us.'
'What?'
'It's not for you, sir, to be friends with us, your honour. So, please, do us the favour . . .'
Praskovia Ivanovna went on bowing.
'What ever for?' muttered the astounded Pyetushkov.
'Oh, nothing, sir. For mercy's sake . . .'
'No, Praskovia Ivanovna, you must explain this! . . .'
'Vassilissa asks you. She says, "I thank you, thank you very much, and from my heart; only for the future, your honour, give us up."'
Praskovia Ivanovna bowed down almost to Pyetushkov's feet.
'Vassilissa, you say, begs me not to come?'
'Just so, your honour. When your honour
307
