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Updated: May 26, 2025
"I shall stay the night here, and to-morrow I'm going on to Klavdia Nikolaevna's it's a long time since I've seen her and the day after to-morrow I'll come back to you and stay three or four days. I want to rest my soul here among you, holy Father. . . ."
She smiled and thought, if only these people could see into her heart and understand her, they would all be at her feet. At a quarter past eleven she called her maid. "Help me to dress, Dasha," she said languidly. "But go first and tell them to get out the horses. I must set off for Klavdia Nikolaevna's."
AT the beginning of April in 1870 my mother, Klavdia Arhipovna, the widow of a lieutenant, received from her brother Ivan, a privy councillor in Petersburg, a letter in which, among other things, this passage occurred: "My liver trouble forces me to spend every summer abroad, and as I have not at the moment the money in hand for a trip to Marienbad, it is very possible, dear sister, that I may spend this summer with you at Kotchuevko...."
Mother and my uncle were walking in the avenue talking together. I went softly up to them from behind, and waited for one of them to look round. "What a delightful place you have here, Klavdia!" said my uncle. "How charming and lovely it is! Had I known before that you had such a charming place, nothing would have induced me to go abroad all these years."
There, too, I saw for the first time, among the ripe raspberry bushes, the housemaid Klavdia, who, in spite of her turned-up nose and habit of giggling in her kerchief, aroused such a tender passion in me that I could hardly breathe, and stood faint and tongue-tied in her presence; and once at Easter, when it came to her turn to kiss my seignorial hand, I almost flung myself at her feet to kiss her down-trodden goat-skin slippers.
Her nakedness was incomprehensible to her but she felt no shame. Her eyes paused for a moment on some one's neatly combed fair hair. She recognized Klavdia, the dissembling instructress.
For God's sake, for Christ's sake, write to your sister Klavdia Abramovna. Let her sell and pawn everything she has; let her send us the money. We will go away from here. Oh, Lord," he went on miserably, "to have one peep at Moscow! If I could see it in my dreams, the dear place!" And when the evening came on, and it was dark in the hut, it was so dismal that it was hard to utter a word.
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