pounds, and by profession he was a sexton in
the village of Voskesensk."

"Are you Ivan's son?" exclaimed the mother.

"I am that very mortal. How did you know his name?"

"Why, I am a Voskresenskian myself!"

"A fellow countrywoman! Who were your people?"

"Your neighbors. I am a Sereguin."

"Are you a daughter of Nil the Lame? I thought your face was familiar!
Why, I had my ears pulled by him many and many a time!"

They stood face to face plying each other with questions and laughing.
Sashenka looked at them and smiled, and began to prepare the tea. The
clatter of the dishes recalled the mother to the realities of the
present.

"Oh, excuse me! I quite forgot myself, talking about old times. It is
so sweet to recall your youth."

"It's I who ought to beg your pardon for carrying on like this in your
house!" said Sashenka. "But it is eleven o'clock already, and I have
so far to go."

"Go where? To the city?" the mother asked in surprise.

"Yes."

"What are you talking about! It's dark and wet, and you are so tired.
Stay here overnight. Yegor Ivanovich will sleep in the kitchen, and
you and I here."

"No, I must go," said the girl simply.

"Yes, countrywoman, she must go. The young lady must disappear. It
would be bad if she were to be seen on the street to-morrow."

"But how can she go? By herself?"

"By herself," said Yegor, laughing.

The girl poured tea for herself, took a piece of rye bread, salted it,
and started to eat, looking at the mother contemplatively.

"How can you go that way? Both you and Natasha. I wouldn't. I'm
afraid!"

"She's afraid, too," said Yegor. "Aren't you afraid, Sasha?"

"Of course!"

The mother looked at her, then at Yegor, and said in a low voice, "What
strange----"

"Give me a glass of tea, granny," Yegor interrupted her.

When Sashenka had drunk her glass of tea, she pressed Yegor's hand in
silence, and walked out into the kitchen. The mother followed her. In
the kitchen Sashenka said:

"When you see Pavel, give him my regards, please." And taking hold of
the latch, she suddenly turned around, and asked in a low voice: "May I
kiss you?"

The mother embraced her in silence, and kissed her warmly.

"Thank you!" said the girl, and nodding her head, walked out.

Returning to the room, the mother peered anxiously through the window.
Wet flakes of snow fluttered through the dense, moist darkness.

"And do you remember Prozorov, the sto