At last Anninka left. When she reached Pogorelka, her first word was, "Horses! Please have the horses ready at once!" But Fedulych only shrugged his shoulders.
"What's the use of shouting horses? We haven't fed them yet," he grumbled.
"But why? Oh, my God, as if everybody were conspiring against me!"
"That's it, we have conspired. How can you help conspiring if it's clear as day that we can't ride at night in thawing weather? Anyway, you'll get stranded in the mud a whole night, so it is better to be stranded at home, I think."
Grandmother's apartments had been well heated. The bedroom had been prepared, and a samovar was puffing on the table. Afimyushka scraped together the remnants of tea at the bottom of Arina Petrovna's tea-caddy. While the tea was drawing, Fedulych stood at the door, his arms folded, facing the young mistress. Beside him stood the cattle woman and Morkovna looking as if at the first wave of the hand they were ready to flee for their lives.
Fedulych was first to begin the conversation.
"The tea is grandmother's--just a bit left in the bottom of the box. Porfiry Vladimirych was going to take the box away, too, but I wouldn't let him. 'Maybe,' I say, 'the young mistress will come and will want to have some hot tea. So let it stay here till she gets some of her own.' Well, I had no trouble with him--he even joked. 'You old rascal,' he says, 'you will use it up yourself! Be sure,' he says, 'to bring the box to Golovliovo.' I wouldn't be surprised if he sends for it tomorrow."
"Why should we? He has enough tea of his own. And now, at least, we, too, will have some after you. Another thing, madam, are you going to make us over to Porfiry Vladimirych?"
"Just so. We were going to mutiny, you know. If, supposing, let's say, we are put under the rule of the Golovliovo master, we will all hand in our resignations."
"No, he is not terrible, but he tortures you, he is all words. He can talk a man into his grave."
Anninka smiled involuntarily. It was vile dirt indeed, that oozed from Yudushka's orations, not mere babble. It was an ill-smelling wound from which the pus flowed incessantly.
"And what have you decided, about yourself?" Fedulych continued to question.
"Why, what was there to decide about myself?" said Anninka, a bit confused, feeling that she would again be compelled to listen to orations on the "treasure."