Nina Ivanovna came in for a minute; she sat down as people who feel
guilty sit down, timidly, and looking about her.

"Well, tell me, Nadya," she enquired after a brief pause, "are you
contented? Quite contented?"

"Yes, mother."

Nina Ivanovna got up, made the sign of the cross over Nadya and the
windows.

"I have become religious, as you see," she said. "You know I am
studying philosophy now, and I am always thinking and thinking. . . .
And many things have become as clear as daylight to me. It seems
to me that what is above all necessary is that life should pass as
it were through a prism."

"Tell me, mother, how is Granny in health?"

"She seems all right. When you went away that time with Sasha and
the telegram came from you, Granny fell on the floor as she read
it; for three days she lay without moving. After that she was always
praying and crying. But now she is all right again."

She got up and walked about the room.

"Tick-tock," tapped the watchman. "Tick-tock, tick-tock. . . ."

"What is above all necessary is that life should pass as it were
through a prism," she said; "in other words, that life in consciousness