"What is the matter, Olga?" I asked.
At first she evaded the question and made believe that nothing was troubling her. But one day she embraced me and said:
"I shall die, Matvei—I shall die in childbirth."
I knew that women often talk thus, still I was frightened. I tried to comfort her, but she would not listen to me.
"You will remain alone again," she said, "beloved by none. You are so difficult and so haughty toward all. I ask you for the sake of the children, don't be so proud. We are all sinners, before God, and you also."
She spoke this way often to me, and I was wretched with pity and fear for her.
As to my father-in-law, I had made a sort of truce with him, and he immediately made use of it in his own way:
"Here, Matvei, sign this," or "Do not write that."
Things were coming to a climax. We were, close to the recruiting time, and a second child was soon expected. The recruits were making holiday in the village. They called me out, but I refused to go, and they broke my windows for me.
The day came when I had to go to town to draw my lot. Olga was already afraid at this time to leave the house, and my father-in-law accompanied me and during the whole way he impressed it upon me what trouble he had taken for me, how much money he had spent and how everything had been arranged for my benefit.