calash, and which one in the carriage? Who will travel with papa, and who with Karl Ivánovich? and why do they insist in wrapping me in a shawl and a wadded jacket?
"I am not as tender as that. Don't be afraid, I shall not freeze. If only there will soon be an end to it all! If we just could get seated, and be off!"
"To whom will you order me to give a note about the children's linen?" said Natálya Sávishna, who had entered with tearful eyes and carrying a note in her hand, as she turned to mamma.
"Give it to Nikoláy, and then come to tell the children good-bye!"
The old woman wanted to say something, but suddenly stopped, covered her face with her handkerchief, and, motioning with her hand, left the room. My heart was pinched when I saw her motion; but my impatience to travel was greater than my sympathy, and I continued to listen with complete indifference to the conversation between father and mother. They were evidently speaking about things that interested neither the one nor the other: what it was necessary to buy for the house; what to say to Princess Sophie and Madame Julie; and whether the road would be good.
Fóka entered, and in the same voice in which he announced "Dinner is served," he said, as he stopped on the threshold, "The horses are ready." I noticed how mamma shuddered and grew pale at this bit of news, as if it had been something unforeseen by her.
Fóka was ordered to close all the doors in the house. That amused me very much, "as if everybody were hiding from somebody."
When all seated themselves, — Fóka, too, sat down on the edge of a chair, — but the moment he did that, the door creaked, and everybody looked round. Natálya rapidly entered the room, and, without raising her eyes,
