The Orlov Couple

…Almost every Saturday, before the all-night vigil, from the two basement windows of the old, soot-darkened merchant Petunnikov’s house, into the cramped little courtyard—crowded with all manner of junk and lined with wooden outbuildings, warped with age—there burst furious female cries:

– Stop! Stop, you wastrel, you devil! – a low contralto was tearing itself apart.
– Let me in! – a male tenor answered.
– I won’t let you in, you fiend!
– You’re lying! You’ll let me in!
– Even if you kill me—I won’t let you in!
– You? You’re lying, heretic!
– Good Lord! He killed… father…!
– You’ll—let me in!