Yákov was obviously embarrassed when Nekhlyúdov spoke of Yukhvánka's wife.
"Well, if he has acted like that, your Grace," he began, "we must find means. It is true he is indigent, like all peasants who are alone, but he is taking some care of himself, not like the others. He is a clever and intelligent peasant, and passably honest. He always comes when the capitation tax is collected. And he has been elder for three years, during my administration, and no fault was found with him. In the third year it pleased the guardian to depose him, and then he attended properly to his farm. It is true, when he lived at the post in town, he used to drink a bit,—and measures must be taken. When he went on a spree, we threatened him, and he came back to his senses: he was then all right, and in his family there was peace; but if you are not pleased to take these measures, I really do not know what to do with him. Well, he has got very low. He is not fit to be sent into the army again because, as you may have noticed, he lacks two teeth. But he is not the only one, I take the liberty of reporting to you, who is not in the least afraid—"
"Let this alone, Yákov," answered Nekhlyúdov, softly smiling;" we have talked it over often enough. You know what I think of it, and I shall not change my mind, whatever you may tell me."
"Of course, your Grace, all this is known to you," said Yákov, shrugging his shoulders and gazing at the master's back, as though what he saw did not promise anything good. " But as to your troubling yourself about the old woman, it is all in vain," he continued. " It is true she has brought up the orphans, has raised and married off Yukhvánka, and all that. But it is a common rule with the peasants that when a father or mother transfers the farm to the son, the son and daughter-in-law become the masters, and the old woman has to earn her bread as best she can. Of course they have not any tender feelings, but
