I was always
glad to go to them. Besides, I think that the air of Little Russia must
possess some special properties which aid digestion; for if any one were
to undertake to eat in that way here, there is not a doubt but that he
would find himself lying on the table a corpse, instead of in bed.

Pulkheria Ivanovna had a little gray cat, which almost always lay coiled
up in a ball at her feet. Pulkheria Ivanovna stroked her occasionally,
and tickled her neck with her finger, the petted cat stretching it out
as long as possible. It would not be correct to affirm that Pulkheria
Ivanovna loved her so very much, but she had simply become attached to
her from seeing her continually about. Afanasy Ivanovitch often joked
about the attachment.

Behind their garden lay a large forest, which had been spared by the
enterprising steward, possibly because the sound of the axe might have
reached the ears of Pulkheria Ivanovna. It was dense, neglected; the old
tree trunks were concealed by luxuriant hazel-bushes, and resembled the
feathered legs of pigeons. In this wood dwelt wild cats. These cats had
a long conference with Pulkheria Ivanovna's tame cat through a hole
under the storehouse, and at last led her astray, as a detachment of
soldiers leads astray a dull-witted peasant. Pulkheria Ivanovna noticed
that her cat was missing, and caused search to be made for her; but no
cat was to be found. Three days passed; Pulkheria Ivanovna felt sorry,
but in the end forgot all about her loss.

[The cat returns to the place half starved, and is coaxed to
come into the house and eat, but runs away on Pulkheria
Ivanovna's trying to pet her.]

The old woman became pensive. "It is my death which is come for me," she
said to herself; and nothing could cheer her. All day she was sad. In
vain did Afanasy Ivanovitch jest, and seek to discover why she had
suddenly grown so grave. Pulkheria Ivanovna either made no reply, or one
which did not in the least satisfy Afanasy Ivanovitch. The next day she
had grown visibly thinner.

"What is the matter with you, Pulkheria Ivanovna? You are not ill?"

"No, I am not ill, Afanasy Ivan'itch. I want to tell you about a strange
occurrence, I know that I shall die this year; my death has already come
for me."

Afanasy Ivanovitch's mouth was distorted with pain. Nevertheless he
tried to conquer the sad feeling in his mind, and said smiling, "God
only knows what you are talking about, Pulkheria