"Well, Matve?" he said, shaking his head.
"It's nothing, sir; she will come to her senses," answered Matve.
"Will come to her senses?"
"Sure she will!"
"Do you think so?—Who is there?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch, hearing the rustle of a woman's dress behind the door.
"It's me," said a powerful and pleasant female voice, and in the doorway appeared the severe and pimply face of Matriona Filimonovna, the nurse.
"Well, what is it, Matriosha?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch, going to meet her at the door.
Notwithstanding the fact that Stepan Arkadyevitch was entirely in the wrong as regarded his wife, and he himself acknowledged it, still almost every one in the house, even the old nurse, Darya Aleksandrovna's chief friend, was on his side.
"Well, what?" he asked gloomily.
"You go down, sir, ask her forgiveness, just once. Perhaps the Lord will bring it out right. She is tormenting herself grievously, and it is pitiful to see her; and everything in the house is going criss-cross. The children, sir, you must have pity on them. Ask her forgiveness, sir! What is to be done? No gains without pains."....
"But you see she won't accept an apology."....
"But you do your part. God is merciful, sir; pray to God. God is merciful."
"Very well, then, come on," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, suddenly turning red in the face.—"Very well, let me have my clothes," said he, turning to Matve, and resolutely throwing off his dressing-gown.
Matve had everything all ready for him, and stood blowing off something invisible from the shirt stiff as a horse-collar, and with evident satisfaction he put it over his master's well-groomed body.
