Chapter 4 - Page 2

the old master of the house and bowing first
to him, then to all those at table, then to the women who stood by the
oven, and muttering: 'A merry holiday!' he began taking off his outer
things without looking at the table.

'Why, you're all covered with hoar-frost, old fellow!' said the eldest
brother, looking at Nikita's snow-covered face, eyes, and beard.

Nikita took off his coat, shook it again, hung it up beside the oven,
and came up to the table. He too was offered vodka. He went through a
moment of painful hesitation and nearly took up the glass and emptied
the clear fragrant liquid down his throat, but he glanced at Vasili
Andreevich, remembered his oath and the boots that he had sold for
drink, recalled the cooper, remembered his son for whom he had promised
to buy a horse by spring, sighed, and declined it.

'I don't drink, thank you kindly,' he said frowning, and sat down on a
bench near the second window.

'How's that?' asked the eldest brother.

'I just don't drink,' replied Nikita without lifting his eyes but
looking askance at his scanty beard and moustache and getting the
icicles out of them.

'It's not good for him,' said Vasili Andreevich, munching a cracknel
after emptying his glass.

'Well, then, have some tea,' said the kindly old hostess. 'You must
be chilled through, good soul. Why are you women dawdling so with the
samovar?'

'It is ready,' said one of the young women, and after flicking with her
apron the top of the samovar which was now boiling over, she carried it
with an effort to the table, raised it, and set it down with a thud.

Meanwhile Vasili Andreevich was telling how he had lost his way, how
they had come back twice to this same village, and how they had gone
astray and had met some drunken peasants. Their hosts were surprised,
explained where and why they had missed their way, said who the tipsy
people they had met were, and told them how they ought to go.

'A little child could find the way to Molchanovka from here. All you
have to do is to take the right turning from the high road. There's a
bush you can see just there. But you didn't even get that far!' said the
neighbour.

'You'd better stay the night. The women will make up beds for you,' said
the old woman persuasively.

'You could go on in the morning and it would be pleasanter,' said the
old man, confirming what his wife had said.

'I can't, friend. Business!' said Vasili Andreevich. 'Lose an hour and
you can't catch it up in a year,' he added, remembering the grove and
the dealers who might snatch that deal from him. 'We shall get there,
shan't we?' he said, turning to Nikita.

Nikita did not answer for some time, apparently still intent