"What is it?" Nekhlyúdov asked absent-mindedly, still agitated by her recital.
"He is a young man yet. You can't expect much work from me; to-day I am alive, to-morrow dead. How can he be without a wife? He will not be a peasant, if he is not married. Have pity on us, father."
"That is, you want to marry him off? Well?"
"Do us this favour before God! You are our father and mother."
She gave her son a sign, and both dropped on the ground before their master's feet.
"Why do you make these earth obeisances?" said Nekhlyúdov, angrily raising her by her shoulder. "Can't you tell it without doing so? You know that I do not like it. Marry off your son, if you wish. I should be glad to hear that you have a bride in view."
The old woman rose, and began to wipe off her dry eyes with her sleeve. Davýdka followed her example, and, having wiped his eyes with his dry fist, continued to stand in the same patient and subservient attitude as before, and to listen to what Arína was saying.
"There is a bride, why not? Mikhéy's Vasyútka is a likely enough girl, but she will not marry him without your will."
"Does she not consent?"
"No, benefactor, not if it comes to consenting."
"Well, then what is to be done I cannot compel her; look for another girl, if not here, elsewhere; I will buy her out, as long as she will give her own consent, but you can't marry by force. There is no law for that, and it would be a great sin."
"O benefactor! But is it likely that any girl would be willing to marry him, seeing our manner of life and poverty? Even a soldier's wife would not wish to take upon herself such misery. What peasant will be willing to give his daughter to us? The most desperate man will
