up to the excited old lady, and making her a low bow.

"Pray excuse me, my dear sir," replied Marfa Timofeevna, "I overlooked
you in my joy. You're just like your dear mother," she continued,
turning anew to Lavretsky, "only you always had your father's nose,
and you have it still. Well, shall you stay here long?"

"I go away to-morrow, aunt."

"To where?".

"To my house at Vasilievskoe."

"To-morrow?"

"To-morrow."

"Well, if it must be to-morrow, so be it. God be with you! You know
what is best for yourself. Only mind you come and say good-bye." The
old lady tapped him gently on the cheek. "I didn't suppose I should
live to see you come back; not that I thought I was going to die--no,
no; I have life enough left in me for ten years to come. All we
Pestofs are long-lived--your late grandfather used to call us
double-lived; but God alone could tell how long you were going to
loiter abroad. Well, well! You are a fine fellow--a very fine fellow.
I dare say you can still lift ten poods[A] with one hand, as you
used to do. Your late father, if you'll excuse my saying so, was as
nonsensical as he could be, but he did well in getting you that Swiss
tutor. Do you remember the boxing matches you used to have with him?
Gymnastics, wasn't it, you used to call them? But why should I go on