His house rose before his imagination--six big rooms, where he lived alone.

Aunt Anfisa had gone to the cloister, perhaps never to return--she might die there.

At home were Ivan, the old deaf dvornik, the old maid, Sekleteya, his cook and servant, and a black, shaggy dog, with a snout as blunt as that of a sheat-fish.

And the dog, too, was old.
"Perhaps I really ought to get married," thought Foma, with a sigh.
But the very thought of how easy it was for him to get married made him ill at ease, and even ridiculous in his own eyes.

It were but necessary to ask his godfather tomorrow for a bride,--and before a month would pass, a woman would live with him in his house.