“I go there and I look, what’s that I see? Borya’s overcoat. I say to myself, Borya’s gone to the gymnasia, why’s his overcoat here? It’s no holiday. Oh, my Boryushka is gone!”
She wails louder and louder. Then the old woman falls to the floor and begins to beat the boards with her head.
“Borechka, my own Borechka! If the Lord had only taken me, an old woman, instead of him. What’s the use of life to me? I drag along, of no cheer to myself or to any one else.”
Natasha, helpless, tries to quiet her.
“Nyanechka, dearest, rest a little.”
“May Thou rest me, O Lord! My heart told me something was wrong. I’ve been dreaming all sorts of bad dreams. These black dreams have come true! Oh, Borechka, my own!”
The old woman continues to beat her head and to wail. Natasha implores her mother:
“For God’s sake, mamma, have Borya’s overcoat taken from the rack.”
Sofia Alexandrovna looks at her with her dark, smouldering eyes and says morosely:
“Why? It had better hang there. He might suddenly need it.”