rn, was sitting now in the town
in his gloomy, empty study and working, hungry, exhausted, yearning
for his family. . . .

"Do you know what, mamma?" said Nadyezhda Filippovna suddenly, and
her eyes began to shine. "If the weather is the same to-morrow I'll
go by the first train and see him in town! Anyway, I shall find out
how he is, have a look at him, and pour out his tea."

And both of them began to wonder how it was that this idea, so
simple and easy to carry out, had not occurred to them before. It
was only half an hour in the train to the town, and then twenty
minutes in a cab. They said a little more, and went off to bed in
the same room, feeling more contented.

"Oho-ho-ho. . . . Lord, forgive us sinners!" sighed the old lady
when the clock in the hall struck two. "There is no sleeping."

"You are not asleep, mamma?" the daughter asked in a whisper. "I
keep thinking of Alyosha. I only hope he won't ruin his health in
town. Goodness knows where he dines and lunches. In restaurants and
taverns."

"I have thought of that myself," sighed the old lady. "The Heavenly
Mother save and preserve him. But the rain, the rain!"

In the morning the rain was not pattering on the panes, but the sky
was still grey. The trees stood looking mournful, and at every gust
of wind they scattered drops. The footprints on the muddy path, the
ditches and the ruts were full of water. Nadyezhda Filippovna made
up her mind to go.

"Give him my love," said the old lady, wrapping her daughter up.
"Tell him not to think too much about his cases. . . . And he must
rest. Let him wrap his throat up when he goes out: the weather--
God help us! And take him the chicken; food from home, even if cold,
is better than at a restaurant."

The daughter went away, saying that she would come back by an evening
train or else next morning.

But she came back long before dinner-time, when the old lady was
sitting on her trunk in her bedroom and drowsily thinking what to
cook for her son-in-law's supper.

Going into the room her daughter, pale and agitated, sank on the
bed without uttering a word or taking off her hat, and pressed her
head into the pillow.

"But what is the matter," said the old lady in surprise, "why back
so soon? Where is Alexey Stepanovitch?"

Nadyezhda Filippovna raised her head and gazed at her mother with
dry, imploring eyes.

"He is deceiving us, mamma," she said.

"What are you saying? Christ be with you!" cried the