The old capital, that means, the city of Moscow, mother of cities. . , . Excuse . . .”
Amid the silence of all, he dropped on the bench near the samovar, and began to diink loudly from a saucer. When he had drunk ten cupfuls he leaned back on the bench and began to snore.
Bed-time came. Nikolai, as an invalid, was given a place on the stove beside the old man; Sasha slept on the floor; and Olga went with the young women to the shed.
“Never mind, my heart!” she said, lying on the hay beside Marya. “Crying is no help. You must bear it. In the Bible it is written, ‘Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.’ Don't cry, my heart!”
And then, in a whisper, she began to tell of Moscow, of her life there, how she had served as housemaid in furnished lodgings.
“In Moscow the houses are big and built of brick,” said Olga. “There is no end of churches — forty forties of them — niy heart; and the houses are all full of gentlemen, so good-looking, so smart!”
And Marya answered that she had never been in the district town, much less in Moscow; she was illiterate, and knew no prayere, not even “Our Father.” Both she and her sister-in-law Fekla, who sat some way off and listened, were ignorant in the extreme, and understood nothing. Both disliked
