her,
the viper. He teaches others; he forgets about his viper. But ask
him who was it he left his money with--who was it?"

Matvey had carefully concealed from everyone, as though it were a
foul sore, that during that period of his life when old women and
unmarried girls had danced and run about with him at their prayers
he had formed a connection with a working woman and had had a child
by her. When he went home he had given this woman all he had saved
at the factory, and had borrowed from his landlord for his journey,
and now he had only a few roubles which he spent on tea and candles.
The "Darling" had informed him later on that the child was dead,
and asked him in a letter what she should do with the money. This
letter was brought from the station by the labourer. Aglaia intercepted
it and read it, and had reproached Matvey with his "Darling" every
day since.

"Just fancy, nine hundred roubles," Aglaia went on. "You gave nine
hundred roubles to a viper, no relation, a factory jade, blast you!"
She had flown into a passion by now and was shouting shrilly: "Can't
you speak? I could tear you to pieces, wretched creature! Nine
hundred roubles as though it were a farthing You might have left
it to Dashutka--she is a relation, not a stranger--or else have
it sent to Byelev for Marya's poor orphans. And your viper did not
choke, may she be thrice accursed, the she-devil! May she never
look upon the light of day!"

Yakov Ivanitch called to her: it was time to begin the "Hours." She
washed, put on a white kerchief, and by now quiet and meek, went
into the prayer-room to the brother she loved. When she spoke to
Matvey or served peasants in the tavern with tea she was a gaunt,
keen-eyed, ill-humoured old woman; in the prayer-room her face was
serene and softened, she looked younger altogether, she curtsied
affectedly, and even pursed up her lips.

Yakov Ivanitch began reading the service softly and dolefully, as
he always did in Lent. After he had read a little he stopped to
listen to the stillness that reigned through the house, and then
went on reading again, with a feeling of gratification; he folded
his hands in supplication, rolled his eyes, shook his head, sighed.
But all at once there was the sound of voices. The policeman and
Sergey Nikanoritch had come to see Matvey. Yakov Ivanitch was
embarrassed at reading aloud and singing when there were strangers
in the house, and now, hearing voices, he began reading in a