several letters at random (in one of them there was a withered flower
tied with a bit of faded ribbon), he merely shrugged his shoulders,
and glancing at the hearth, he tossed them on one side, probably with
the idea of burning all this useless rubbish. Hurriedly, thrusting his
hands first into one, and then into another drawer, he suddenly opened
his eyes wide, and slowly bringing out a little octagonal box of
old-fashioned make, he slowly raised its lid. In the box, under two
layers of cotton wool, yellow with age, was a little garnet cross.

For a few instants he looked in perplexity at this cross--suddenly
he gave a faint cry.... Something between regret and delight was
expressed in his features. Such an expression a man's face wears when
he suddenly meets some one whom he has long lost sight of, whom he has
at one time tenderly loved, and who suddenly springs up before his
eyes, still the same, and utterly transformed by the years.

He got up, and going back to the hearth, he sat down again in the
arm-chair, and again hid his face in his hands.... 'Why to-day? just
to-day?' was his thought, and he remembered many things, long since
past.

This is what he remembered....

But first I must mention his name, his father's name and his surname.
He was called Dimitri Pavlovitch Sanin.

Here follows what he remembered.