Sofia Alexandrovna goes quickly into the dining-room. She pours herself
a glass of fresh milk out of a jug on the table. She drinks it
standing, and munches a piece of black bread with it.
She orders the things for dinner at the same time. She chooses dishes
loved by Borya. She stops to recollect whether Borya likes this, or
does not like that.
Stepanida listens to her sadly, and replies in a tearful voice:
“Yes, I know! Why shouldn’t I know? It’s not the first time.”
Glasha asks something. The old, tottering nurse rattles on rather
volubly. Sofia Alexandrovna answers them mechanically and rapidly. She
seems all the while to be listening intently, either for the sound of a
distant little bell, or for the rumble of wheels on the road. She makes
her way out in haste. And she no longer listens to what is being said
to her. She goes out.
She enters Borya’s study. Everything there is as in the old days, and
in order. When Borya comes back he will find everything in its place.
Sofia Alexandrovna, with great concern, takes a rapid look round the
room. She wishes to see whether everything is in its place, whether the
dust has been swept, whether the rug has been laid before the bed, and
whether the inkstand has been filled with ink. She herself changes the
water in the vase which holds the cornflowers. If anything is out of
place she gives way to tears, then rings for Glasha, and heaps
reproaches upon her.
Glasha’s face assumes a frightened, compassionate look. In a most
humble manner she begs forgiveness.
Sofia Alexandrovna remonstrates with her:
“How can you be so careless, Glasha? You know that we are expecting him
every minute. Suppose he should suddenly come in and find this
disorder.”
Glasha replies humbly:
“Forgive me, _barinya_. Don’t think any more about it. I’ll quickly put
everything to rights.”
As she goes out she wipes away two or three tears with her white apron.