‘But you had an estate!’
‘Oh, we sold that while Vasya was still alive, and the money was all spent. We had to live, and like all our young ladies I did not know how to earn anything. I was particularly useless and helpless. So we spent all we had. I taught the children and improved my own education a little. And then Mitya fell ill when he was already in the fourth form, and God took him. Masha fell in love with Vanya, my son-in-law. And—well, he is well-meaning but unfortunate. He is ill.’
‘Mamma!’—her daughter’s voice interrupted her—‘Take Mitya! I can’t be in two places at once.’
Praskovya Mikhaylovna shuddered, but rose and went out of the room, stepping quickly in her patched shoes. She soon came back with a boy of two in her arms, who threw himself backwards and grabbed at her shawl with his little hands.
‘Where was I? Oh yes, he had a good appointment here, and his chief was a kind man too. But Vanya could not go on, and had to give up his position.’
‘What is the matter with him?’
‘Neurasthenia—it is a dreadful complaint. We consulted a doctor, who told us he ought to go away, but we had no means.... I always hope it will pass of itself. He has no particular pain, but...’
‘Lukerya!’ cried an angry and feeble voice. ‘She is always sent away when I want her. Mamma...’
‘I’m coming!’ Praskovya Mikhaylovna again interrupted herself. ‘He has not had his dinner yet. He can’t eat with us.’
She went out and arranged something, and came back wiping her thin dark hands.