ughters-in-law, Grigory Petrovitch, are a blessing
from God," he said. "Not women, but treasures!"

V

On Friday the 8th of July, Elizarov, nicknamed Crutch, and Lipa were
returning from the village of Kazanskoe, where they had been to a
service on the occasion of a church holiday in the honour of the
Holy Mother of Kazan. A good distance after them walked Lipa's mother
Praskovya, who always fell behind, as she was ill and short of breath.
It was drawing towards evening.

"A-a-a..." said Crutch, wondering as he listened to Lipa. "A-a!...
We-ell!

"I am very fond of jam, Ilya Makaritch," said Lipa. "I sit down in my
little corner and drink tea and eat jam. Or I drink it with Varvara
Nikolaevna, and she tells some story full of feeling. We have a lot of
jam--four jars. 'Have some, Lipa; eat as much as you like.'"

"A-a-a, four jars!"

"They live very well. We have white bread with our tea; and meat, too,
as much as one wants. They live very well, only I am frightened with
them, Ilya Makaritch. Oh, oh, how frightened I am!"

"Why are you frightened, child?" asked Crutch, and he looked back to see
how far Praskovya was behind.

"To begin with, when the wedding had been celebrated I was afraid of
Anisim Grigoritch. Anisim Grigoritch did nothing, he didn't ill-treat
me, only when he comes near me a cold shiver runs all over me, through
all my bones. And I did not sleep one night, I trembled all over and
kept praying to God. And now I am afraid of Aksinya, Ilya Makaritch.
It's not that she does anything, she is always laughing, but sometimes
she glances at the window, and her eyes are so fierce and there is a
gleam of green in them--like the eyes of the sheep in the shed. The
Hrymin Juniors are leading her astray: 'Your old man,' they tell her,
'has a bit of land at Butyokino, a hundred and twenty acres,' they say,
'and there is sand and water there, so you, Aksinya,' they say, 'build
a brickyard there and we will go shares in it.' Bricks now are twenty
roubles the thousand, it's a profitable business. Yesterday at dinner
Aksinya said to my father-in-law: 'I want to build a brickyard at
Butyokino; I'm going into business on my own account.' She laughed as
she said it. And Grigory Petrovitch's face darkened, one could see he
did not like it. 'As long as I live,' he said, 'the family must not
break up, we must go on altogether.' She gave a look and gritted her
teeth.... Fritters were served, she would not eat them."