it? Let him get in. . . . That's pretty sure to be
Pelagea's sweetheart, the fireman."

"What! what did you say?"

"I say it's Pelagea's fireman come to see her."

"Worse than ever!" shrieked Marya Mihalovna. "That's worse than a
burglar! I won't put up with cynicism in my house!"

"Hoity-toity! We are virtuous! . . . Won't put up with cynicism?
As though it were cynicism! What's the use of firing off those
foreign words? My dear girl, it's a thing that has happened ever
since the world began, sanctified by tradition. What's a fireman
for if not to make love to the cook?"

"No, _Basile!_ It seems you don't know me! I cannot face the idea
of such a . . . such a . . . in my house. You must go this minute
into the kitchen and tell him to go away! This very minute! And
to-morrow I'll tell Pelagea that she must not dare to demean herself
by such proceedings! When I am dead you may allow immorality in
your house, but you shan't do it now! . . . Please go!"

"Damn it," grumbled Gagin, annoyed. "Consider with your microscopic
female brain, what am I to go for?"

"_Basile_, I shall faint! . . ."

Gagin cursed, put on his slippers, cursed again, and set off to the
kitchen. It was as dark as the inside of a barrel, and the assistant
procurator had to feel his way. He groped his way to the door of
the nursery and waked the nurse.

"Vassilissa," he said, "you took my dressing-gown to brush last
night--where is it?"

"I gave it to Pelagea to brush, sir."

"What carelessness! You take it away and don't put it back--now
I've to go without a dressing-gown!"

On reaching the kitchen, he made his way to the corner in which on
a box under a shelf of saucepans the cook slept.

"Pelagea," he said, feeling her shoulder and giving it a shake,
"Pelagea! Why are you pretending? You are not asleep! Who was it
got in at your window just now?"

"Mm . . . m . . . good morning! Got in at the window? Who could get
in?"

"Oh come, it's no use your trying to keep it up! You'd better tell
your scamp to clear out while he can! Do you hear? He's no business
to be here!"

"Are you out of your senses, sir, bless you? Do you think I'd be
such a fool? Here one's running about all day long, never a minute
to sit down and then spoken to like this at night! Four roubles a
month . . . and to find my own tea and sugar and this is all the
credit I get for it! I used to live in a tradesman's house, and
never met with such insult there!"

"Co