When Gerasim came out of the garret next day, no particular change could be observed in him.  He only seemed, as it were, more morose, and took not the slightest notice of Tatiana or Kapiton.  The same evening, they both had to appear before their mistress with geese under their arms, and in a week’s time they were married.  Even on the day of the wedding Gerasim showed no change of any sort in his behavior.  Only, he came back from the river without water, he had somehow broken the barrel on the road; and at night, in the stable, he washed and rubbed down his horse so vigorously, it swayed like a blade of grass in the wind, and staggered from one leg to the other under his fists of iron.

All this had taken place in the spring.  Another year passed by, during which Kapiton became a hopeless drunkard, and as being absolutely of no use for anything, was sent away with the store wagons to a distant village with his wife.  On the day of his departure, he put a very good face on it at first, and declared that he would always be at home, send him where they would, even to the other end of the world; but later on he lost heart, began grumbling that he was being taken to uneducated people, and collapsed so completely at last that he could not even put his own hat on.  Some charitable soul stuck it on his forehead, set the peak straight in front, and thrust it on with a slap from above.  When everything was quite ready, and the peasants already held the reins in their hands, and were only waiting for the words “With God’s blessing!” to start, Gerasim came out of his garret, went up to Tatiana, and gave her as a parting present a red cotton handkerchief he had bought for her a year ago.  Tatiana, who had up to that instant borne all the revolting details of her life with great indifference, could not control herself upon that; she burst into tears, and as she took her seat in the cart, she kissed Gerasim three times like a good Christian.  He meant to accompany her as far as the town-barrier, and did walk beside her cart for a while, but he stopped suddenly at the Crimean ford, waved his hand, and walked away along the riverside.

It was getting towards evening.  He walked slowly, watching the water.  All of a sudden he fancied something was floundering in the mud close to the bank.  He stooped over, and saw a little white-and-black puppy, who, in spite of all its efforts, could not get out of the water; it was struggling, slipping back, and trembling all over its thin wet little body.  Gerasim looked at the unlucky little dog, picked it up with one hand, put it into the bosom of his coat, and hurried with long steps homewards.  He went into his garret, put the rescued puppy on his bed, covered it with his thick overcoat, ran first to the stable for straw, and then to the kitchen for a cup of milk.  Carefully folding back the overcoat, and spreading out the straw, he set the milk on the bedstead.  The poor little puppy was not more