White and silent Nikolka went back into the kitchen.
'Lord, you're filthy - let me clean you up', cried Anyuta.
'Leave me alone, for God's sake', replied Nikolka and passed on into the apartment wiping his frozen hands on his trousers. 'Larion, you may punch me on the jaw', he said to Lariosik, who blinked, then stared and said:
'Why, Nikolashka?
There's no need for despair.' He began timidly to brush the snow from Nikolka's back with his hands.
'Apart from the fact that if Alyosha recovers - which pray God he does - he will never forgive me,' Nikolka went on, 'it means I've lost the Colt that belonged to Colonel Nai-Turs!
I'd rather have been killed myself!
It's God's punishment on me for sneering at Vasilisa.
I feel bad enough about Vasilisa as it is, but it's far worse for me now because those were the guns they used to rob him.
Although anyone could rob him without a gun at all, he's so feeble . . .
What a man. God, it's a terrible business.
Come on, Larion, get some paper and we'll mend the window.' #
That night Nikolka, Myshlaevsky and Lariosik crawled into the gap with axe, hammer and nails to mend the fence.
Nikolka himself frenziedly drove in the long, thick nails so far that their points stuck out on the far side.
Later still they went out with candles on to the verandah, from where they climbed through the cold storeroom into the attic.
There, above the apartment, they clambered everywhere, squeezing between the hot water pipes and trunks full of clothes, until they had cut a listening-hole in the ceiling.
When he heard about the expedition to the attic, Vasilisa showed the liveliest interest and joined them in crawling around among the beams, thoroughly approving of everything that Myshlaevsky was doing.
'What a pity you didn't warn us somehow.
You should have sent Wanda Mikhailovna up to us by the back door', said Nikolka, wax dripping from his candle.
'That wouldn't have done much good', Myshlaevsky objected. 'By the time they were in the apartment the game was up.
You don't believe they wouldn't have put up a fight, do you?
Of course they would - and how.
You'd have had a bullet in your belly before there was time to reach us.
And that would have been that.
No - your best bet was never to have let them in by the front door at all.'
'But they threatened to shoot through the door, Viktor Viktoro-vich', said Vasilisa pathetically.
'They would never have done that', Myshlaevsky replied as he banged away with the hammer. 'Not a chance of it.
That would have brought the whole street down on their heads.'
Later still that night Karas found himself luxuriating like Louis XIV in the Lisovichs' apartment.
This was preceded by the following conversation:
'Oh no, they won't come back again tonight', said Myshlaevsky.
'No, no, no', Wanda and Vasilisa replied in chorus on the staircase, 'please - we beg you or Fyodor Nikolaevich to come down and spend the rest of the night with us - please!
It won't be any trouble to you.
Wanda Mikhailovna will make tea for you, and we'll make you up a comfortable bed.
Please come tonight - and tomorrow too.
We must have another man in the apartment.'
'Otherwise I won't sleep a wink', added Wanda, wrapping herself in an angora shawl.
'And there's a drop or two of brandy in the house to keep the cold out', said Vasilisa in an unexpectedly devil-may-care voice.
'Go on, Karas', said Myshlaevsky.
So Karas went and settled in comfortably.
Brains and thin soup with vegetable oil were, as might be expected, no more than a symptom of the loathsome disease of meanness with which Vasilisa had infected his wife.
In reality there were considerable treasures concealed in the depths of their apartment, treasures known only to Wanda.
There appeared on the dining-room table a jar of pickled mushrooms, veal, cherry jam and a bottle of real, good Shustov's brandy with a bell on the label.
Karas called for a glass for Wanda Mikhailovna and poured some out for her.
'Not a full glass!' cried Wanda.
With a despairing gesture Vasilisa obeyed Karas and drank a glassful.
'Don't forget, Vasya - it's not good for you', said Wanda tenderly.
After Karas had explained authoritatively that brandy never harmed anyone and that mixed with milk it was even given to people suffering from anaemia, Vasilisa drank a second glass. His cheeks turned pink and his forehead broke out in sweat.
Karas drank five glasses and was soon in excellent spirits.
'Feed her up a bit and she wouldn't be at all bad', he thought as he looked at Wanda.