has gone the length of bringing him home with him."
Matrena let them go into the room, and came in herself also. She perceived that the man was a stranger—young, haggard, the kaftan he had on was theirs, hat he had none. He stood on the spot where he had first come in, neither moving nor raising his eyes. And Matrena thought: "He is not a good man, for he is afraid."
Matrena wrinkled her brows, went up to the stove, and looked on to see what they would do next.
Simon took off his hat and sat down on the bench as if all were well.
"Well, Matrena!" said he, "give us some supper, come!"
Matrena grumbled to herself, but kept standing by the stove as if she never meant to move from it. First she looked at the one, and then she looked at the other, but she only shook her head. Simon saw that his old woman was not herself, but what was to be done? He pretended to notice nothing, and took the stranger by the arm.
"Sit down, brother!" said he, "and we'll have some supper."
The stranger sat down on the bench.
"Come now, have you cooked anything?"
Matrena grew wrath.
"Cooked I have, but not for you. I see you have drunk your senses away. You went for a pelisse and have come back without a kaftan, and have brought back some naked ragamuffin with you into the bargain. I have no supper to give a pair of drunkards."
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