to be able to get an appointment
for my son-in-law. But as it is I have not been able to do anything, and
have brought them all to this--as you see.'

'Yes, yes,' said Kasatsky, lowering his head. 'And how is it,
Pashenka--do you take part in Church life?'

'Oh, don't speak of it. I am so bad that way, and have neglected it so!
I keep the fasts with the children and sometimes go to church, and then
again sometimes I don't go for months. I only send the children.'

'But why don't you go yourself?'

'To tell the truth' (she blushed) 'I am ashamed, for my daughter's
sake and the children's, to go there in tattered clothes, and I haven't
anything else. Besides, I am just lazy.'

'And do you pray at home?'

'I do. But what sort of prayer is it? Only mechanical. I know it should
not be like that, but I lack real religious feeling. The only thing is
that I know how bad I am...'

'Yes, yes, that's right!' said Kasatsky, as if approvingly.

'I'm coming! I'm coming!' she replied to a call from her son-in-law, and
tidying her scanty plait she left the room.

But this time it was long before she returned. When she came back,
Kasatsky was sitting in the same position, his elbows resting on his
knees and his head bowed. But his wallet was strapped on his back.

When she came in, carrying a small tin lamp without a shade, he raised
his fine weary eyes and sighed very deeply.

'I did not tell them who you are,' she began timidly. 'I only said that
you are a pilgrim, a nobleman, and that I used to know you. Come into
the dining-room for tea.'

'No...'

'Well then, I'll bring some to you here.'

'No, I don't want anything. God bless you, Pashenka! I am going now. If
you pity me, don't tell anyone that you have seen me. For the love of
God don't tell anyone. Thank you. I would bow to your feet but I know
it would make you feel awkward. Thank you, and forgive me for Christ's
sake!'

'Give me your blessing.'

'God bless you! Forgive me for Christ's sake!'

He rose, but she would not let him go until she had given him bread and
butter and rusks. He took it all and went away.

It was dark, and before he had passed the second house he was lost to
sight. She only knew he was there because the dog at the priest's house
was barking.

'So that is what my dream meant! Pashenka is what I ought to have been
but failed to be. I lived for men on the pretext of living for God,
while she lived for God imagining that she lives fo