“Don’t remember evil against me,” said Von Koren. “Give my greetings to your wife, and say I am very sorry not to say good-bye to her.”
“She is at home.”
Laevsky went to the door of the next room, and said:
“Nadya, Nikolay Vassilitch wants to say goodbye to you.”
Nadyezhda Fyodorovna came in; she stopped near the doorway and looked shyly at the visitors. There was a look of guilt and dismay on her face, and she held her hands like a schoolgirl receiving a scolding.
“I’m just going away, Nadyezhda Fyodorovna,” said Von Koren, “and have come to say good-bye.”
She held out her hand uncertainly, while Laevsky bowed.
“What pitiful figures they are, though!” thought Von Koren. “The life they are living does not come easy to them. I shall be in Moscow and Petersburg; can I send you anything?” he asked.
“Oh!” said Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, and she looked anxiously at her husband. “I don’t think there’s anything. . . .”
“No, nothing . . .” said Laevsky, rubbing his hands. “Our greetings.”