"Yes, excellent huts, dry and warm, and not so likely to take fire," retorted the master, with a frown on his youthful face, obviously dissatisfied with the peasant's sarcasm.
"No question about that, your Grace, fine huts."
"Now, one of those huts is all ready. It is a thirty-foot hut, with vestibules and a storeroom, ready for occupancy. I will let you have it at your price; you will pay me when you can," said the master, with a self-satisfied smile, which he could not keep back, at the thought that he was doing a good act. "You will break down your old hut," he continued ; "it will do yet for a barn. We will transfer the outhouses in some way. There is excellent water there. I will cut a garden for you out of the cleared ground, and also will lay out a piece of land for you in three parcels. You will be happy there. Well, are you not satisfied?" asked Nekhlyúdov, when he noticed that the moment he mentioned changing quarters Churís stood in complete immobility and, without a smile, gazed at the floor.
"It is your Grace's will," he answered, without lifting his eyes.
The old woman moved forward, as if touched to the quick, and was about to say something, but her husband anticipated her.
"It is your Grace's will," he repeated, firmly, and at the same time humbly, looking at his master, and shaking his hair, "but it will not do for us to live in the new hamlet."
"Why?"
"No, your Grace! We are badly off here, but if you transfer us there, we sha'n't stay peasants long. What kind of peasants can we be there? It is impossible to live there, saving your Grace!"
"Why not?"
"We shall be completely ruined, your Grace!"
"But why is it impossible to live there?"
