tone.

'Who has upset you so?' asked Olenin, looking round.

'The devil only knows. Faugh! There is no real master here. They
say he has gone to some kind of KRIGA, and the old woman is a real
devil. God preserve us!' answered Vanyusha, putting his hands to
his head. 'How we shall live here I don't know. They are worse
than Tartars, I do declare--though they consider themselves
Christians! A Tartar is bad enough, but all the same he is more
noble. Gone to the KRIGA indeed! What this KRIGA they have
invented is, I don't know!' concluded Vanyusha, and turned aside.

'It's not as it is in the serfs' quarters at home, eh?' chaffed
Olenin without dismounting.

'Please sir, may I have your horse?' said Vanyusha, evidently
perplexed by this new order of things but resigning himself to his
fate.

'So a Tartar is more noble, eh, Vanyusha?' repeated Olenin,
dismounting and slapping the saddle.

'Yes, you're laughing! You think it funny,' muttered Vanyusha
angrily.

'Come, don't be angry, Vanyusha,' replied Olenin, still smiling.
'Wait a minute, I'll go and speak to the people of the house;
you'll see I shall arrange everything. You don't know what a jolly
life we shall have here. Only don't get upset.'