aren't you frightened?"

"I am, sir; but of course it is my duty, there is no getting away from
it. In the summer I was taking a convict to the town, and he set upon
me and gave me such a drubbing! And all around were fields, forest--how
could I get away from him? It's just the same here. I remember the
gentleman, Mr. Lesnitsky, when he was so high, and I knew his father and
mother. I am from the village of Nedoshtchotova, and they, the Lesnitsky
family, were not more than three-quarters of a mile from us and less
than that, their ground next to ours, and Mr. Lesnitsky had a sister, a
God-fearing and tender-hearted lady. Lord keep the soul of Thy servant
Yulya, eternal memory to her! She was never married, and when she was
dying she divided all her property; she left three hundred acres to the
monastery, and six hundred to the commune of peasants of Nedoshtchotova
to commemorate her soul; but her brother hid the will, they do say burnt
it in the stove, and took all this land for himself. He thought, to be
sure, it was for his benefit; but--nay, wait a bit, you won't get on
in the world through injustice, brother. The gentleman did not go to
confession for twenty years after. He kept away from the church, to be
sure, and died impenitent. He burst. He was a very fat man, so he
burst lengthways. Then everything was taken from the young master, from
Seryozha, to pay the debts--everything there was. Well, he had not gone
very far in his studies, he couldn't do anything, and the president of
the Rural Board, his uncle--'I'll take him'--Seryozha, I mean--thinks
he, 'for an agent; let him collect the insurance, that's not a difficult
job,' and the gentleman was young and proud, he wanted to be living on
a bigger scale and in better style and with more freedom. To be sure it
was a come-down for him to be jolting about the district in a wretched
cart and talking to the peasants; he would walk and keep looking on the
ground, looking on the ground and saying nothing; if you called his name
right in his ear, 'Sergey Sergeyitch!' he would look round like this,
'Eh?' and look down on the ground again, and now you see he has laid
hands on himself. There's no sense in it, your honor, it's not right,
and there's no making out what's the meaning of it, merciful Lord! Say
your father was rich and you are poor; it is mortifying, there's no
doubt about it, but there, you must make up your mind to it. I used to
live in good style, too; I had t