"Come, don't cry, silly one; perchance the Lord God will make us young again there—and we shall again be a fine young pair!"
"He will make us young, Alexis!"
"Everything is possible to Him, to the Lord," remarked Alexyéi Sergyéitch.—"He is a worker of wonders!—I presume He will make thee a clever woman also…. Come, my dear, I was jesting; give me thy hand to kiss."
"And I will kiss thine."
And the two old people kissed each other's hands.
Alexyéi Sergyéitch began to quiet down and sink into a comatose state. Malánya Pávlovna gazed at him with emotion, brushing the tears from her eyelashes with the tip of her finger. She sat thus for a couple of hours.
"Has he fallen asleep?" asked in a whisper the old woman who knew how to pray so tastily, peering out from behind Irinárkh, who was standing as motionless as a pillar at the door, and staring intently at his dying master.
"Yes," replied Malánya Pávlovna, also in a whisper. And suddenly Alexyéi
Sergyéitch opened his eyes.
"My faithful companion," he stammered, "my respected spouse, I would like to bow myself to thy feet for all thy love and faithfulness—but how am I to rise? Let me at least sign thee with the cross."
Malánya Pávlovna drew nearer, bent over…. But the hand which had been raised fell back powerless on the coverlet, and a few moments later Alexyéi Sergyéitch ceased to be.