We wrote you."
"When? I haven't received any letter."
"Really? We wrote often."
"The letter must have got lost," said Vassili regretfully. "It always
does when it's important."
"So you don't know how things are at home?" asked Iakov, suspiciously.
"How should I know? I received no letter."
Then Iakov told him that the horse was dead, that all the corn had been
eaten before the beginning of February, and that he himself had been
unable to find any work. Hay was also short, and the cow had almost
perished from hunger. They had managed as best they could until April
and then they decided that Iakov should join the father far away and
work three months with him. That is what they had written. Then they
sold three sheep, bought flour and hay and Iakov had started.
"How is that possible?" cried Vassali. "I sent you some money."
"Your money didn't go far. We repaired the cottage, we had to marry
sister off and I bought a plough. You know five years is a long time."
"Hum," said Vassili, "wasn't it enough? What a tale of woe! Ah,
there's my soup boiling over!"
He rose and stooping before the fire on which was the saucepan, Vassili
meditated while throwing the scum into the flame.
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