ning of something young and fresh. Oh, if
only that new, bright life would come more quickly--that life in
which one will be able to face one's fate boldly and directly, to
know that one is right, to be light-hearted and free! And sooner
or later such a life will come. The time will come when of Granny's
house, where things are so arranged that the four servants can only
live in one room in filth in the basement--the time will come
when of that house not a trace will remain, and it will be forgotten,
no one will remember it. And Nadya's only entertainment was from
the boys next door; when she walked about the garden they knocked
on the fence and shouted in mockery: "Betrothed! Betrothed!"

A letter from Sasha arrived from Saratov. In his gay dancing
handwriting he told them that his journey on the Volga had been a
complete success, but that he had been taken rather ill in Saratov,
had lost his voice, and had been for the last fortnight in the
hospital. She knew what that meant, and she was overwhelmed with a
foreboding that was like a conviction. And it vexed her that this
foreboding and the thought of Sasha did not distress her so much
as before. She had a passionate desire for life, longed to be in
Petersburg, and her friendship with Sasha seemed now sweet but
something far, far away! She did not sleep all night, and in the
morning sat at the window, listening. And she did in fact hear
voices below; Granny, greatly agitated, was asking questions rapidly.
Then some one began crying. . . . When Nadya went downstairs Granny
was standing in the corner, praying before the ikon and her face
was tearful. A telegram lay on the table.

For some time Nadya walked up and down the room, listening to
Granny's weeping; then she picked up the telegram and read it.

It announced that the previous morning Alexandr Timofeitch, or more
simply, Sasha, had died at Saratov of consumption.

Granny and Nina Ivanovna went to the church to order a memorial
service, while Nadya went on walking about the rooms and thinking.
She recognized clearly that her life had been turned upside down
as Sasha wished; that here she was, alien, isolated, useless and
that everything here was useless to her; that all the past had been
torn away from her and vanished as though it had been burnt up and
the ashes scattered to the winds. She went into Sasha's room and
stood there for a while.

"Good-bye, dear Sasha," she thought, and before her mind rose the