And she would begin talking about the teachers, the lessons, and
the school books, saying just what Sasha said.

At three o'clock they had dinner together: in the evening they
learned their lessons together and cried. When she put him to bed,
she would stay a long time making the Cross over him and murmuring
a prayer; then she would go to bed and dream of that far-away misty
future when Sasha would finish his studies and become a doctor or
an engineer, would have a big house of his own with horses and a
carriage, would get married and have children. . . . She would fall
asleep still thinking of the same thing, and tears would run down
her cheeks from her closed eyes, while the black cat lay purring
beside her: "Mrr, mrr, mrr."

Suddenly there would come a loud knock at the gate.

Olenka would wake up breathless with alarm, her heart throbbing.
Half a minute later would come another knock.

"It must be a telegram from Harkov," she would think, beginning to
tremble from head to foot. "Sasha's mother is sending for him from
Harkov. . . . Oh, mercy on us!"

She was in despair. Her head, her hands, and her feet would turn
chill, and she would feel that she was the most unhappy woman in
the world. But another minute would pass, voices would be heard:
it would turn out to be the veterinary surgeon coming home from the
club.