Some one took my hand and whispered, "Whose hand is this?" Despite the
darkness, I knew by the touch and the low voice in my ear that it was
Katenka. I took her by the arm, but she withdrew it, and, in doing so,
pushed a cane chair which was standing near. Grisha lifted his head
looked quietly about him, and, muttering a prayer, rose and made the
sign of the cross towards each of the four corners of the room.




XIII -- NATALIA SAVISHNA

In days gone by there used to run about the seignorial courtyard of the
country-house at Chabarovska a girl called Natashka. She always wore a
cotton dress, went barefooted, and was rosy, plump, and gay. It was at
the request and entreaties of her father, the clarionet player Savi,
that my grandfather had "taken her upstairs"--that is to say, made
her one of his wife's female servants. As chamber-maid, Natashka so
distinguished herself by her zeal and amiable temper that when Mamma
arrived as a baby and required a nurse Natashka was honoured with the
charge of her. In this new office the girl earned still further praises
and rewards for her activity, trustworthiness, and devotion to her young
mistress. Soon, however, the powdered head and buckled shoes of the
young and active footman Foka (who had frequent opportunities of
courting her, since they were in the same service) captivated her
unsophisticated, but loving, heart. At last she ventured to go and ask
my grandfather if she might marry Foka, but her master took the request
in bad part, flew into a passion, and punished poor Natashka by exiling
her to a farm which he owned in a remote quarter of the Steppes. At
length, when she had been gone six months and nobody could be found to