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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Nastacia Ivanovna," said she, "if I ever have children, what will they be?" "You! Fleas and grasshoppers, you may depend upon it!" Natacha went on. "Good God! have mercy, have mercy!" she said to herself. "Wherever I go it is always, always the same. I am so weary; what shall I do?" Skipping lightly from step to step, she went to the upper story and dropped in on the Ioghels.
The countess was playing out a "patience," and Nastacia Ivanovna, the old buffoon, with his peevish face, sitting in a window with two old women, did not say a word. Natacha came into the room, and, after leaning over Sonia for a minute or two to examine her work, went over to her mother and stood still in front of her. The countess looked up. "Why are you wandering about like a soul in torment?
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