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I go from behind the screen to the deacon to enter my name, and sniff at my sleeves. The dusk of the church no longer seems gloomy, and I look indifferently, without malice, at Mitka. "What is your name?" the deacon asks. "Fedya." "And your name from your father?" "I don't know." "What is your papa's name?" "Ivan Petrovitch." "And your surname?" I make no answer. "How old are you?" "Nearly nine."
The faces of the Mother of God and St. John the Divine are not so sorrowful as yesterday. The faces of the communicants are radiant with hope, and it seems as though all the past is forgotten, all is forgiven. Mitka, too, has combed his hair, and is dressed in his best.
There was a rapid patter of bare feet, and an unseen hand opened the door into the huntsmen's room, from which came the clear sounds of a balalayka on which someone, who was evidently a master of the art, was playing. Natasha had been listening to those strains for some time and now went out into the passage to hear better. "That's Mitka, my coachman.... I have got him a good balalayka.
Chekmar held in leash three formidable wolfhounds, who had, however, grown fat like their master and his horse. Two wise old dogs lay down unleashed. Some hundred paces farther along the edge of the wood stood Mitka, the count's other groom, a daring horseman and keen rider to hounds.
In the mind of Liubka quickly flashed the images of her former mates, Jennka and Tamara, so proud, so brave and resourceful oh, far brainier than these maidens and she, almost unexpectedly for herself, suddenly said sharply: "There was a lot of them. I've already forgotten. Kolka, Mitka, Volodka, Serejka, Jorjik, Troshka, Petka, and also Kuzka and Guska with a party. But why are you interested?"
Mitka tuned up afresh, and recommenced thrumming the balalayka to the air of My Lady, with trills and variations. "Uncle" sat listening, slightly smiling, with his head on one side. The air was repeated a hundred times. The balalayka was retuned several times and the same notes were thrummed again, but the listeners did not grow weary of it and wished to hear it again and again.
The verger Matvey set before him a little table with the memorial food upon it, and a little later the requiem service began. There was perfect stillness in the church. Nothing could be heard but the metallic click of the censer and slow singing.... Near Andrey Andreyitch stood the verger Matvey, the midwife Makaryevna, and her one-armed son Mitka. There was no one else.
"'What sort of a joke do you think you are playing? Your sword, please!... "'Mitka, my sword! "'Mitka brought the sword. My duty discharged, I sat down on the bed, facing Pechorin, and said: 'Listen here, Grigori Aleksandrovich, you must admit that this is a bad business. "'What is? "'Why, that you have carried off Bela... Ah, it is that beast Azamat!... Come, confess! I said.
I'm fond of it," said "Uncle." It was the custom for Mitka to play the balalayka in the huntsmen's room when "Uncle" returned from the chase. "Uncle" was fond of such music. "How good! Really very good!" said Nicholas with some unintentional superciliousness, as if ashamed to confess that the sounds pleased him very much. "Very good?" said Natasha reproachfully, noticing her brother's tone.
From the engine-room a grimy stoker emerged. Rolling along, and scraping his bare feet audibly against the deck, he approached the boatswain's cabin, where the said boatswain, a fair-haired, fair-bearded man from Kostroma was standing in the doorway. The senior official contracted his rugged eyes quizzically, and inquired: "Whither in such a hurry?" "To pick a bone with Mitka." "Good!"
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