The day before the funeral I felt as though I should like to rest a
little after luncheon, and accordingly went to Natalia Savishna's room
with the intention of installing myself comfortably under the warm, soft
down of the quilt on her bed. When I entered I found Natalia herself
lying on the bed and apparently asleep, but, on hearing my footsteps,
she raised herself up, removed the handkerchief which had been
protecting her face from the flies, and, adjusting her cap, sat forward
on the edge of the bed. Since it frequently happened that I came to lie
down in her room, she guessed my errand at once, and said:

"So you have come to rest here a little, have you? Lie down, then, my
dearest."

"Oh, but what is the matter with you, Natalia Savishna?" I exclaimed
as I forced her back again. "I did not come for that. No, you are tired
yourself, so you LIE down."

"I am quite rested now, darling," she said (though I knew that it was
many a night since she had closed her eyes). "Yes, I am indeed, and have
no wish to sleep again," she added with a deep sigh.

I felt as though I wanted to speak to her of our misfortune, since I
knew her sincerity and love, and thought that it would be a consolation
to me to weep with her.

"Natalia Savishna," I said after a pause, as I seated myself upon the
bed, "who would ever have thought of this?"

The old woman looked at me with astonishment, for she did not quite