every minute as though she would burst into tears.

"Rain, my friends," cried some one.

Every one looked at the sky.

"Yes, it really is rain . . ." Pyotr Dmitritch assented, and wiped
his cheek.

Only a few drops were falling from the sky--the real rain had not
begun yet; but the company abandoned their tea and made haste to
get off. At first they all wanted to drive home in the carriages,
but changed their minds and made for the boats. On the pretext that
she had to hasten home to give directions about the supper, Olga
Mihalovna asked to be excused for leaving the others, and went home
in the carriage.

When she got into the carriage, she first of all let her face rest
from smiling. With an angry face she drove through the village, and
with an angry face acknowledged the bows of the peasants she met.
When she got home, she went to the bedroom by the back way and lay
down on her husband's bed.

"Merciful God!" she whispered. "What is all this hard labour for?
Why do all these people hustle each other here and pretend that
they are enjoying themselves? Why do I smile and lie? I don't
understand it."

She heard steps and voices. The visitors had come back.