Yakov Ivanitch began reading the service softly and dolefully, as he always did in Lent.  After he had read a little he stopped to listen to the stillness that reigned through the house, and then went on reading again, with a feeling of gratification; he folded his hands in supplication, rolled his eyes, shook his head, sighed.  But all at once there was the sound of voices.  The policeman and Sergey Nikanoritch had come to see Matvey.  Yakov Ivanitch was embarrassed at reading aloud and singing when there were strangers in the house, and now, hearing voices, he began reading in a whisper and slowly.  He could hear in the prayer-room the waiter say: 

“The Tatar at Shtchepovo is selling his business for fifteen hundred.  He’ll take five hundred down and an I.O.U. for the rest.  And so, Matvey Vassilitch, be so kind as to lend me that five hundred roubles.  I will pay you two per cent a month.”

“What money have I got?” cried Matvey, amazed.  “I have no money!”

“Two per cent a month will be a godsend to you,” the policeman explained.  “While lying by, your money is simply eaten by the moth, and that’s all that you get from it.”

Afterwards the visitors went out and a silence followed.  But Yakov Ivanitch had hardly begun reading and singing again when a voice was heard outside the door: 

“Brother, let me have a horse to drive to Vedenyapino.”

It was Matvey.  And Yakov was troubled again.  “Which can you go with?” he asked after a moment’s thought.  “The man has gone with the sorrel to take the pig, and I am going with the little stallion to Shuteykino as soon as I have finished.”

“Brother, why is it you can dispose of the horses and not I?” Matvey asked with irritation.

“Because I am not taking them for pleasure, but for work.”

“Our property is in common, so the horses are in common, too, and you ought to understand that, brother.”

A silence followed.  Yakov did not go on praying, but waited for Matvey to go away from the door.

“Brother,” said Matvey, “I am a sick man.  I don’t want possession —­let them go; you have them, but give me a small share to keep me in my illness.  Give it me and I’ll go away.”

Yakov did not speak.  He longed to be rid of Matvey, but he could not give him money, since all the money was in the business; besides, there had never been a case of the family dividing in the whole history of the Terehovs.  Division means ruin.

Yakov said nothing, but still waited for Matvey to go away, and kept looking at his sister, afraid that she would interfere, and that there would be a storm of abuse again, as there had been in the morning.  When at last Matvey did go Yakov went on reading, but now he had no pleasure in it.  There was a heaviness in his head and a darkness before his eyes from continually bowing down to the ground, and he was weary of the sound of his soft dejected voice.  When such a depression of spirit came over him at night, he put it down to not being able to sleep; by day it frightened him, and he began to feel as though devils were sitting on his head and shoulders.