"How unlooked for!" at length said the mistress of the household as she recovered herself. "From whom can the letter have come?"
Old Oblomov took it, and turned it over in his hands, as though at a loss what to do with the epistle.
"Where did you get it from?" he inquired of the peasant. "And who gave it you?"
"I got it at the inn where I put up," replied the man. "Twice did folk come from the post-office to inquire if any peasantry from Oblomovka were there, since a letter was awaiting the barin. The first time they came, I kept quiet, and the postman took the letter away; but afterwards the deacon of Verklevo saw me, and they came and gave me the letter, and made me pay five kopecks for it. I asked them what I was to do with the letter, and they said that I was to hand it to your Honour."
"Then at first you refused it?" the mistress remarked sharply.
"Yes, I refused it. What should we want with letters? We have no need for them, nor had I any orders to take charge of such things. So I was afraid to touch it. 'Don't you go too fast with that thing,' I said to
