XIII.
"I will do so," Nekhlyúdov said to himself with cheerful self-satisfaction, and, recalling that he had to visit yet the rich peasant, Dutlóv, he directed his steps to a tall and spacious building, with two chimneys, which stood in the middle of the village. As he was getting near it, he met, near the neighbouring hut, a tall, slatternly woman, of some forty years of age, who came out to see him.
"A pleasant holiday, sir," the woman said, without the least timidity, stopping near him, smiling pleasantly, and bowing.
"Good morning, nurse," he answered. "How are you getting on? I am going to see your neighbour."
"Yes, your Grace, that is good. But why do you not deign to call on us? My old man would be ever so happy to see you."
"Well, I will come in, to talk with you, nurse. Is this your hut?"
"Yes, sir."
And the nurse ran ahead. Nekhlyúdov walked after her into the vestibule, sat down on a pail, took out a cigarette, and lighted it.
"It is hot there; let us stay here and talk," he answered to the nurse's invitation to walk into the hut.
The nurse was still in her prime, and a fine-looking woman. In her features, and especially in her large black eyes, there was a great resemblance to the master's face. She put her hands under her apron, and, boldly looking
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