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"
There
!
There
!
Women
's
fuss
!
Women
,
women
!
"
said
Alpátych
,
puffing
and
speaking
rapidly
just
as
the
prince
did
,
and
he
climbed
into
the
trap
.
After
giving
the
clerk
orders
about
the
work
to
be
done
,
Alpátych
,
not
trying
to
imitate
the
prince
now
,
lifted
the
hat
from
his
bald
head
and
crossed
himself
three
times
.
"
If
there
is
anything
...
come
back
,
Yákov
Alpátych
!
For
Christ
's
sake
think
of
us
!
"
cried
his
wife
,
referring
to
the
rumors
of
war
and
the
enemy
.
"
Women
,
women
!
Women
's
fuss
!
"
muttered
Alpátych
to
himself
and
started
on
his
journey
,
looking
round
at
the
fields
of
yellow
rye
and
the
still-green
,
thickly
growing
oats
,
and
at
other
quite
black
fields
just
being
plowed
a
second
time
.
As
he
went
along
he
looked
with
pleasure
at
the
year
's
splendid
crop
of
corn
,
scrutinized
the
strips
of
ryefield
which
here
and
there
were
already
being
reaped
,
made
his
calculations
as
to
the
sowing
and
the
harvest
,
and
asked
himself
whether
he
had
not
forgotten
any
of
the
prince
's
orders
.
Having
baited
the
horses
twice
on
the
way
,
he
arrived
at
the
town
toward
evening
on
the
fourth
of
August
.
Alpátych
kept
meeting
and
overtaking
baggage
trains
and
troops
on
the
road
.
As
he
approached
Smolénsk
he
heard
the
sounds
of
distant
firing
,
but
these
did
not
impress
him
.
What
struck
him
most
was
the
sight
of
a
splendid
field
of
oats
in
which
a
camp
had
been
pitched
and
which
was
being
mown
down
by
the
soldiers
,
evidently
for
fodder
.
This
fact
impressed
Alpátych
,
but
in
thinking
about
his
own
business
he
soon
forgot
it
.
All
the
interests
of
his
life
for
more
than
thirty
years
had
been
bounded
by
the
will
of
the
prince
,
and
he
never
went
beyond
that
limit
.
Everything
not
connected
with
the
execution
of
the
prince
's
orders
did
not
interest
and
did
not
even
exist
for
Alpátych
.
On
reaching
Smolénsk
on
the
evening
of
the
fourth
of
August
he
put
up
in
the
Gáchina
suburb
across
the
Dnieper
,
at
the
inn
kept
by
Ferapóntov
,
where
he
had
been
in
the
habit
of
putting
up
for
the
last
thirty
years
.
Some
thirty
years
ago
Ferapóntov
,
by
Alpátych
's
advice
,
had
bought
a
wood
from
the
prince
,
had
begun
to
trade
,
and
now
had
a
house
,
an
inn
,
and
a
corn
dealer
's
shop
in
that
province
.
He
was
a
stout
,
dark
,
red-faced
peasant
in
the
forties
,
with
thick
lips
,
a
broad
knob
of
a
nose
,
similar
knobs
over
his
black
frowning
brows
,
and
a
round
belly
.
