"I have heard, my friend," quietly answered his wife.

"You have nothing to say?"

"What can I say? You have a right to dispose of what belongs to
you.... But ... still I...."

"Still you what?" sharply asked her husband.

"Still, I hope, my friend, that this is not your last will...."

General Nazimoff turned, and even made an effort to raise himself on
his elbow.

"God willing, you will recover. Perhaps you will decide more than once
to make other dispositions of your property," calmly continued his
wife.

The sick man fell back on the pillows.

"You are mistaken. Even if I do not die, you will not be able to
deceive me again. This is my last will!" he replied convulsively.

And with trembling hand he gave the doctor a bunch of keys.

"There is the dispatch box. Please open it, and put the will in."

The doctor obeyed his wish, without looking at Olga Vseslavovna. She,
on her part, did not look at him. Shrugging her shoulders at her