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How will it be next time? And Alexey Sergeitch spoke excellent Russian, a little old-fashioned, but choice and pure as spring water, continually interspersing his remarks with favourite expressions: ''Pon my honour, please God, howsoever that may be, sir, and young sir.... But enough of him. Let us talk a little about Alexey Sergeitch's wife, Malania Pavlovna.
'In what shape? with a scythe? 'No, answered Prince L.; 'a simple old woman in a jacket, but with only one eye in her forehead, and that eye without an eyelid. And the next day Prince L. actually did die, duly performing everything, and taking leave of every one in a rational and affecting manner. 'That's just how I shall die, Alexey Sergeitch would sometimes observe.
'Good evening to you, Praskovia Ivanovna, he said in the same sing-song. Both stood still for a little while facing each other. 'Well, good day to you, Praskovia Ivanovna, Onisim chanted out again. 'Well, good day to you, Onisim Sergeitch, she responded in the same sing-song. Onisim arrived home. His master was lying on his bed, gazing at the ceiling. 'Where have you been? 'What business?
Your pride is wounded, and here you've been crying and packing up to go; but I have pride, too, and you do not spare it! Or do you want me to tell you what I would not tell as Confession? Do you? Listen; you want me to tell you what I won't tell the priest on my deathbed?" Mashenka made no answer. "I took my wife's brooch," Nikolay Sergeitch said quickly. "Is that enough now? Are you satisfied?
He lived alone with his wife, Malania Pavlovna; she was ten years younger than he. They had two daughters; but their daughters had been long married, and rarely visited Suhodol; they were not on the best of terms with their parents, and Alexey Sergeitch hardly ever mentioned their names. I see, even now, the old-fashioned house, a typical manor-house of the steppes.
Father Yakov looked about him and began whispering: "One morning early I was going from Sinkino to Lutchkovo; I saw a woman standing on the river bank, doing something. . . . I went up close and could not believe my eyes. . . . It was horrible! The wife of the doctor, Ivan Sergeitch, was sitting there washing her linen. . . . A doctor's wife, brought up at a select boarding-school!
'Because, think a little, nephew; nothing of their own, but the cross on their neck and that copper and daren't hanker after other people's goods ... how can one expect sense of them? It is needless to state that of the so-called 'serf question' no one even dreamed in those days; it could not disturb the peace of mind of Alexey Sergeitch: he was quite happy in the possession of his 'subjects'; but he was severe in his censure of bad masters, and used to call them the enemies of their order.
And how in answer to these words Alexey Sergeitch had made a wonderful bow, and had swept the floor from left to right with the plumes of his hat, as if he would say: 'Your Excellency, there is a line now between you and my spouse, which you will not overstep! And Orlov, Alexey Grigorievitch understood at once, and commended him.
I myself, though I did serve in the Guards but not for long, thank you. Alexey Sergeitch preferred the old days. Our soldier gentlemen stuck some sort of turbans of cocks' feathers on their heads then, and turned like cocks themselves; began binding their necks up as stiff as could be ... they croak, and roll their eyes how could they help it, indeed?
He came, pale and subdued, into his room, and, making him a low obeisance, first thanked him for his care and kindness, and then asked him to send for a priest, for death had come to him he had seen death, and he must forgive every one and purify his soul. 'How did you see death? muttered Alexey Sergeitch in bewilderment at hearing connected speech from him for the first time.
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