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Updated: June 22, 2025
Every time I went to see my fiancée I found all her family and other members of the household busy over the silly trousseau. There was a smell of irons, candle grease and fumes. Bugles scrunched under one's feet. The two most important rooms were piled up with billows of linen, calico, and muslin and from among the billows peeped out Sasha's little head with a thread between her teeth.
She wanted so much to hear more about the possibility of an escape. "I must see Vyesovshchikov," said Nikolay. "All right. To-morrow I'll tell you when and where," replied Sasha. "What is he going to do?" asked Sofya, pacing through the room. "It's been decided to make him compositor in a new printing place. Until then he'll stay with the forester." Sasha's brow lowered.
I longed at all costs to blurt it out and gloat over the effect. And one day at dinner, when we had a lot of visitors, I gave a stupid snigger, looked fiendishly at Zinotchka and said: "'I know. Gy y! I saw! . . . "'What do you know? asked my mother. "I looked still more fiendishly at Zinotchka and Sasha. You ought to have seen how the girl flushed up, and how furious Sasha's eyes were!
Sofya also smiled, and Nikolay, looking tenderly into Sasha's face, laughed quietly. The girl raised her head with a stern glance for all. Then she paled, and her eyes flashed, and she said dryly, the offense she felt evident in her voice: "You're laughing. I understand you. You consider me personally interested in the case, don't you?" "Why, Sasha?" asked Sofya, rising and going over to her.
Somebody's young face came to her memory, somebody's resonant voice shouted, "That's the mother of Pavel Vlasov!" Sasha's eyes flashed joyously and tenderly. Rybin's dark, tall figure loomed up, the bronzed, firm face of her son smiled. Nikolay blinked in embarrassment; and suddenly everything was stirred with a deep but light breath. "Nikolay was right," said Liudmila, entering again.
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