wife continued, not waiting for a clearer expression of sympathy.
"Take his manner toward me. And for what reason?"

"Yes, it is very sad," murmured the doctor.

"Tell me, doctor, does he expect his son and daughter?"

"Only his daughter, Anna Iurievna. She promised to come, with her
oldest children. A telegram came yesterday. We have been
expecting her all day."

"What is the cause of this sudden tenderness? They have not seen
each other for ten years. Does he expect her husband, too? His
son-in-law, the pedagogue?" contemptuously asked the general's
wife.

"No! How could he come? He could not leave his service. And his
son, too, Peter Iurevitch, he cannot come at once. He is on duty,
in Transcaspia. It is a long way."

"Yes, it is a long way!" assented the general's wife, evidently
busy with other thoughts. "But tell me, Edouard Vicentevitch, this
new will, has it been written long?"

"It was drawn up only to-day. The draft was prepared last week,
but the general kept putting it off. But when his pains began this
morning. . . ."

"Is it the end? Is it dangerous?" interrupted Olga Vseslavovna.