In spite of the tenderness with which she said this, it was clear that she was not at her ease. It was as if she did not know whether to address the bishop by the familiar “thee” or the formal “you,” and whether she ought to laugh or not. She seemed to feel herself more of a poor deacon’s wife than a mother in his presence. Meanwhile Kitty was sitting with her eyes glued to the face of her uncle the bishop as if she were trying to make out what manner of man this was. Her hair had escaped from her comb and her bow of velvet ribbon, and was standing straight up around her head like a halo. Her eyes were foxy and bright. She had broken a glass before sitting down, and now, as she talked, her grandmother kept moving first a glass, and then a wine glass out of her reach. As the bishop sat listening to his mother, he remembered how, many, many years ago, she had sometimes taken him and his brothers and sisters to visit relatives whom they considered rich. She had been busy with her own children in those days, and now she was busy with her grandchildren, and had come to visit him with Kitty here.
“Your sister Varenka has four children”—she was telling him—“Kitty is the oldest. God knows why, her father fell ill and died three days before Assumption. So my Varenka has been thrown out into the cold world.”
“And how is my brother Nikanor?” the bishop asked.
“He is well, thank the Lord. He is pretty well, praise be to God. But his son Nikolasha wouldn’t go into the church, and is at college instead learning to be a doctor. He thinks it is best, but who knows? However, God’s will be done!”
“Nikolasha cuts up dead people!” said Kitty, spilling some water into her lap.
“Sit still child!” her grandmother said, quietly taking the glass out of her hands.
“How long it is since we have seen one another!” exclaimed his Reverence, tenderly stroking his mother’s shoulder and hand. “I missed you when I was abroad, I missed you dreadfully.”
“Thank you very much!”
“I used to sit by my window in the evening listening to the band playing, and feeling lonely and forlorn. Sometimes I would suddenly grow so homesick that I used to think I would gladly give everything I had in the world for a glimpse of you and home.”
His mother smiled and beamed, and then immediately drew a long face and said stiffly: