The workgirls gave listless heed to these hundred times repeated narrations, but Mavra was never tired of hearing them; it was like receiving a sort of gospel into her heart. Her good and revered protectress made all things dear and venerated that touched her nearly; and this only son, loved, adored, longed for, became a supernatural being, a kind of Messiah to her.
One morning at the end of August, as Mavra, who had risen early, was crossing the courtyard to go waken up the laundress, who had overslept herself, she saw, galloping along the inclosure a troika of black horses, with their heads covered with bells. "It's the young master!" thought the little servant; and without giving herself time for reflection, she ran to the ponderous gate and threw it wide open. At the same moment the brilliant equipage arrived; the coachman pulled together his noble beasts, and without slackening their gallop they shot like an arrow past Mavra, and ten steps further on stood stock-still at the foot of the steps. Dazed, her heart thrilled by she knew not what impression of fear and joy, she received full in the face the gaze of two large, black, amazed and amused eyes.
"How like his mother!" thought Mavra, as she closed the huge gate, that shut with a heavy bang.
She turned slowly toward the steps as Serge, jumping down from the carriage, looked around at her again; he smiled when he met her blue eyes full of simple admiration, and, giving her a friendly nod, entered the house of his fathers. A minute after he was by the countess' bedside, pressed lovingly in her arms.
When they had chatted two whole hours, as they finished their tea, Serge, recollecting himself, suddenly said to his mother:
"What is this new acquisition you have made, mother? A little fair-haired Raphael opened the gate for me this morning."
The countess thought for a moment.
"Ah! I know," said she; "it's Mavra—a virtue—my dear child. A strange little creature, who adores me."
"She is quite right," replied the son respectfully. "What do you do with her?"
"She embroiders in the afternoon, and in the morning she attends on me; but, Serge, you must be prudent. My house is strictly kept; don't you go and amuse yourself making gallant speeches to my girls."