The governor gave him a dubious look.
'By the way, I must have a word with you, Semyon Petrovitch.'
'Why, what is it?'
'0h, something's amiss.'
'And what?'
'Well, I must tell you; your debtor, that peasant who came to me with a complaint———'
'Well?'
'He's hanged himself, you know.'
'When?'
'It's of no consequence when: but it's a bad business.'
Kallomyetsev shrugged his shoulders, and with a dandified swing of his elegant person moved away to the window. At that instant the adjutant brought in Markelov.
The governor had spoken truly about him; he was unnaturally calm. Even his habitual moroseness had vanished from his face and was replaced by an expression of a sort of indifferent weariness. It did not change when he saw his brother-in-law, and only in the glance he flung at the German adjutant escorting him there was a momentary flash of his old hatred for that class of persons. His coat had been torn in two places and hurriedly sown up with coarse thread; on his forehead, over one eyebrow, and on the bridge of his nose could
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