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see from heaven that you have forsaken his father, and will
weep over you. Why do you trouble his happiness? He is liv-
ing, for the soul lives for ever, and though he is not in the
house he is near you, unseen. How can he go into the house
when you say that the house is hateful to you? To whom is
he to go if he find you not together, his father and mother?
He comes to you in dreams now, and you grieve. But then
he will send you gentle dreams. Go to your husband, moth-
er; go this very day.’
‘I will go, Father, at your word. I will go. You’ve gone
straight to my heart. My Nikita, my Nikita, you are waiting
for me,’ the woman began in a sing-song voice; but the elder
had already turned away to a very old woman, dressed like
a dweller in the town, not like a pilgrim. Her eyes showed
that she had come with an object, and in order to say some-
thing. She said she was the widow of a non-commissioned
officer, and lived close by in the town. Her son Vasenka was
in the commissariat service, and had gone to Irkutsk in Si-
beria. He had written twice from there, but now a year had
passed since he had written. She did inquire about him, but
she did not know the proper place to inquire.
‘Only the other day Stepanida Ilyinishna — she’s a rich
merchant’s wife — said to me, ‘You go, Prohorovna, and put
your son’s name down for prayer in the church, and pray for
the peace of his soul as though he were dead. His soul will
be troubled,’ she said, ‘and he will write you a letter.’ And
Stepanida Ilyinishna told me it was a certain thing which
had been many times tried. Only I am in doubt.... Oh, you
light of ours! is it true or false, and would it be right?’