When he came back to the sick man the general, lying on the sofa,
still in the same position, and without looking at his wife who stood
beside his pillow, said to her:

"I expect my poor daughter Anna, who has suffered so much injustice
through you.... I have asked her to forgive me. I shall pray her to be
a mother to her little sister.... I have appointed her the child's
guardian. She is good and honest ... she will teach the child no evil.
And this will be best for you also. You are provided for. You will
find out from the new will. You could not have had any profit from
being her guardian. If Anna does not consent to take little Olga to
live with her, and to educate her with her own children, as I have
asked her, Olga will be sent to a school. You will prefer liberty to
your daughter; it will be pleasanter for you. Is it not so?"

Contempt and bitter irony were perceptible in his voice. His wife did
not utter a syllable. She remained so quiet that it might have been
thought she did not even hear him, but for the convulsive movement of
her lips, and of the fingers of her tightly clasped hands.

The doctor once more made a movement to withdraw discreetly, but the
general's voice stopped him. "Edouard Vicentevitch? Is he here?"

"I am here, your excellency," answered the doctor, bending over the
sick man. "Would not your excellency prefer to be carried to the bed?
It will be more comfortable lying down."

"More comfortable to die?" sharply interrupted the general. "Why do
you drivel? You know I detest beds and blankets. Drop it! Here, take
this," and he gave him a sheet of crested paper folded in four, which