“Epouvantable!” she said, meaning the heat. “I cannot stand it! Ce climat me tue!” And, after a short talk about the horrors of the Russian climate, she gave the men a sign to go on.
“Be sure and come,” she added, turning her long face towards Nekhludoff as she was borne away.
The procession with the Princess turned to the right towards the first-class carriages. Nekhludoff, with the porter who was carrying his things, and Taras with his bag, turned to the left.
“This is my companion,” said Nekhludoff to his sister, pointing to Taras, whose story he had told her before.
“Surely not third class?” said Nathalie, when Nekhludoff stopped in front of a third-class carriage, and Taras and the porter with the things went in.
“Yes; it is more convenient for me to be with Taras,” he said. “One thing more,” he added; “up to now I have not given the Kousminski land to the peasants; so that, in case of my death, your children will inherit it.”
“Dmitri, don’t!” said Nathalie.
“If I do give it away, all I can say is that the rest will be theirs, as it is not likely I shall marry; and if I do marry I shall have no children, so that—”
“Dmitri, don’t talk like that!” said Nathalie. And yet Nekhludoff noticed that she was glad to hear him say it.
Higher up, by the side of a first-class carriage, there stood a group of people still looking at the carriage into which the Princess Korchagin had been carried. Most of the passengers were already seated. Some of the late comers hurriedly clattered along the boards of the platform, the guard was closing the doors and asking the passengers to get in and those who were seeing them off to come out.