was being educated in one of the best of the crown establishments at
St. Petersburgh.

The old lady who was sitting at the window with Maria Dmitrievna was
her father's sister, the aunt with whom she had formerly spent so many
lonely years at Pokrovskoe. Her name was Marfa Timofeevna Pestof.
She was looked upon as an original, being a woman of an independent
character, who bluntly told the truth to every one, and who, although
her means were very small, behaved in society just as she would have
done had she been rolling in wealth. She never could abide the late
Kalitine, and as soon as her niece married him she retired to her own
modest little property, where she spent ten whole years in a peasant's
smoky hut. Maria Dmitrievna was rather afraid of her. Small in
stature, with black hair, a sharp nose, and eyes which even in old age
were still keen, Marfa Timofeevna walked briskly, held herself
bolt upright, and spoke quickly but distinctly, and with a loud,
high-pitched voice. She always wore a white cap, and a white
_kofta_[A] always formed part of her dress.

[Footnote A: A sort of jacket.]

"What is the matter?" she suddenly asked. "What are you sighing
about?"

"Nothing," replied Maria Dmitrievna. "What lovely clouds!"

"You are sorry for them, I suppose?"

Maria Dmitrievna made no reply.