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these three we must say a few words. Of old Grigory we
have said something already. He was firm and determined
and went blindly and obstinately for his object, if once be
had been brought by any reasons (and they were often very
illogical ones) to believe that it was immutably right. He
was honest and incorruptible. His wife, Marfa Ignatyev-
na, had obeyed her husband’s will implicitly all her life, yet
she had pestered him terribly after the emancipation of the
serfs. She was set on leaving Fyodor Pavlovitch and open-
ing a little shop in Moscow with their small savings. But
Grigory decided then, once for all, that ‘the woman’s talk-
ing nonsense, for every woman is dishonest,’ and that they
ought not to leave their old master, whatever he might be,
for ‘that was now their duty.’
‘Do you understand what duty is?’ he asked Marfa Ig-
natyevna.
‘I understand what duty means, Grigory Vassilyevitch,
but why it’s our duty to stay here I never shall understand,’
Marfa answered firmly.
‘Well, don’t understand then. But so it shall be. And you
hold your tongue.’
And so it was. They did not go away, and Fyodor Pav-
lovitch promised them a small sum for wages, and paid it
regularly. Grigory knew, too, that he had an indisputable
influence over his master. It was true, and he was aware of
it. Fyodor Pavlovitch was an obstinate and cunning buf-
foon, yet, though his will was strong enough ‘in some of
the affairs of life,’ as he expressed it, he found himself, to
his surprise, extremely feeble in facing certain other emer-

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