He turned away, frowned, and
wrung his hands. . . . Gerasim heard nothing, neither the quick shrill
whine of Mumu as she fell, nor the heavy splash of the water; for him
the noisiest day was soundless and silent as even the stillest night is
not silent to us. When he opened his eyes again, little wavelets were
hurrying over the river, chasing one another; as before they broke
against the boat's side, and only far away behind wide circles moved
widening to the bank.
Directly Gerasim had vanished from Eroshka's sight, the latter returned
home and reported what he had seen.
"Well, then," observed Stepan, "he'll drown her. Now we can feel easy
about it. If he once promises a thing . . ."
No one saw Gerasim during the day. He did not have dinner at home.
Evening came on; they were all gathered together to supper, except him.
"What a strange creature that Gerasim is!" piped a fat laundrymaid;
"fancy, upsetting himself like that over a dog. . . . Upon my word!"
"But Gerasim has been here," Stepan cried all at once, scraping up his
porridge with a spoon.
"How? when?"
"Why, a couple of hours ago. Yes, indeed! I ran against him at the gate;
he was going out again from here; he was coming out of the yard.
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