She was not affectionate towards the old man, reviling him as a lazy-bones and a plague.  He was not a responsible, reliable peasant, and perhaps if she had not been continually nagging at him he would not have worked at all, but would have simply sat on the stove and talked.  He talked to his son at great length about certain enemies of his, complained of the insults he said he had to put up with every day from the neighbours, and it was tedious to listen to him.

“Yes,” he would say, standing with his arms akimbo, “yes....  A week after the Exaltation of the Cross I sold my hay willingly at thirty kopecks a pood....  Well and good....  So you see I was taking the hay in the morning with a good will; I was interfering with no one.  In an unlucky hour I see the village elder, Antip Syedelnikov, coming out of the tavern.  ‘Where are you taking it, you ruffian?’ says he, and takes me by the ear.”

Kiryak had a fearful headache after his drinking bout, and was ashamed to face his brother.

“What vodka does!  Ah, my God!” he muttered, shaking his aching head.  “For Christ’s sake, forgive me, brother and sister; I’m not happy myself.”

As it was a holiday, they bought a herring at the tavern and made a soup of the herring’s head.  At midday they all sat down to drink tea, and went on drinking it for a long time, till they were all perspiring; they looked positively swollen from the tea-drinking, and after it began sipping the broth from the herring’s head, all helping themselves out of one bowl.  But the herring itself Granny had hidden.

In the evening a potter began firing pots on the ravine.  In the meadow below the girls got up a choral dance and sang songs.  They played the concertina.  And on the other side of the river a kiln for baking pots was lighted, too, and the girls sang songs, and in the distance the singing sounded soft and musical.  The peasants were noisy in and about the tavern.  They were singing with drunken voices, each on his own account, and swearing at one another, so that Olga could only shudder and say: 

“Oh, holy Saints!”

She was amazed that the abuse was incessant, and those who were loudest and most persistent in this foul language were the old men who were so near their end.  And the girls and children heard the swearing, and were not in the least disturbed by it, and it was evident that they were used to it from their cradles.

It was past midnight, the kilns on both sides of the river were put out, but in the meadow below and in the tavern the merrymaking still went on.  The old father and Kiryak, both drunk, walking arm-in-arm and jostling against each other’s shoulders, went to the barn where Olga and Marya were lying.

“Let her alone,” the old man persuaded him; “let her alone....  She is a harmless woman....  It’s a sin....”

“Ma-arya!” shouted Kiryak.

“Let her be....  It’s a sin....  She is not a bad woman.”