"Kiss her for me," said Sergey.

"Very well. The Khvostovs send you their regards."

"Which Khvostovs? Oh, yes!"

The colonel interrupted:

"Well, we must go. Get up, mother; we must go." The two men lifted the
weakened old woman.

"Bid him good-by!" ordered the colonel. "Make the sign of the cross."

She did everything as she was told. But as she made the sign of the
cross, and kissed her son a brief kiss, she shook her head and
murmured weakly:

"No, it isn't the right way! It is not the right way! What will I say?
How will I say it? No, it is not the right way!"

"Good-by, Sergey!" said the father. They shook hands, and kissed each
other quickly but heartily.

"You--" began Sergey.

"Well?" asked the father abruptly.

"No, no! It is not the right way! How shall I say it?" repeated the
mother weakly, nodding her head. She had sat down again and was
rocking herself back and forth.