Sofia’s eyes and the expression on her face clearly proclaimed: “I will love simply, unreservedly, I will look after my husband and be a nurse to him, I will obey him in all things and never appear to be cleverer than him, although how would it be possible to be cleverer than one’s husband in any case? It would be sinful! I will keep house for him diligently, sew and bear him half a dozen children. I will myself feed, nurse, dress them and make their clothes.” Her plump cheek, fresh complexion and splendid bosom fully confirmed her promise about children. But the tears in her eyes and the sadness of her smile lent her a less prosaic appearance at that moment.

First of all, a prayer service was conducted for which Anton Ivanych called in the servants, lit a candle, took the book from the priest when he had finished reading from it and handed it to the sexton; then he poured some holy water into a bottle, put it in his pocket and said, “It’s for Agafya Nikitishna.” They sat down at the table. Apart from Anton Ivanych and the priest, no one else, as was customary, touched any of the food, but Anton Ivanych did ample justice to the Homeric repast. Anna Pavlovna cried all the time and furtively wiped away the tears.

“It’s time to stop wasting your tears, Anna Pavlovna, my dear lady,” said Anton Ivanych with feigned indignation, filling his glass with liqueur. “After all, it’s not as if you’re sending him to be slaughtered.”

Then, after swallowing half the contents of his glass, he smacked his lips.

“What a fine liqueur! What fragrance! Nothing like it anywhere else in our province, my dear lady!” he said in a tone of great satisfaction.

“It’s… thr… three… ye… years old!” she managed to articulate between sobs. “We’ve op… opened it… today, just… for you!”

“Anna Pavlovna, it pains me so much to see you like this,” Anton Ivanych started up again. “There’s no one to assuage your grief. I would if I could, but it’s beyond me.”

“Judge for yourself, Anton Ivanych, my only son, and far away; I could die, and there would be no one even to bury me.”

“But what about us then? What, am I a stranger to you? And what’s all this about being in a hurry to die? Before you know it, you’ll be married and I’ll be dancing at your wedding. So let’s have no more of these tears!”

“I can’t help it, Anton Ivanych, really, I can’t; I don’t even know myself where these tears are coming from.”

“You can’t keep a young man like that locked up! Give him the freedom to spread his wings, and see what wonders he will work, what success he will achieve!”

“I sincerely hope you’re right! But you’ve taken so little of the pie; do take some more!”

“Well, perhaps just this little piece, thank you. To your health, Alexander Fyodorych! And best wishes for your journey! Do come back soon – and get married too! But why are you flushing, Sofia Vasilyevna?”

“Oh, no… I was just…”

“Oh, you young people make me laugh.”

“You really make people forget their troubles, Anton Ivanych,” said Anna Ivanovna. “You’re such a comfort. May God bless you with good health. Please have a little more liqueur.”

“Of course, my dear lady: your son is leaving, we must drink to that!”

The meal came to an end. The coachman had long since loaded the luggage into the carriage, and it had been brought round to the porch. The servants came running out one after another. One carried the trunk, another a package, and a third brought a bag and went back for something else. Like flies around a drop of honey, they clustered around the carriage with everyone eager to offer help and advice.

“Better lay the trunk this way,” said one, “and put the food hamper over here.”

“But where are they going to put their legs?” another one put in. “Better put the trunk in lengthwise with the hamper beside it.”

“That way the feather bed will slide off, if the trunk is in lengthwise; better turn it round sideways. Now, what else? Oh yes, has anyone packed the boots?”

“I don’t know. Who did the packing?”

“It wasn’t me. Someone go and take a look – couldn’t they be upstairs?”

“Well, you go!”

“What about you – can’t you see I have no time?”

“Look, here’s something else; don’t forget it!” one of the girls shouted, poking a package through the crowd of heads.

“Give it here!”

“Cram this into the trunk somehow: it must have been left behind,” said another, standing on the footboard, holding brush and a comb in her outstretched hand.

“Nowhere to put it now,” a stout footman scolded her. “Get out of the way; can’t you see the trunk is right near the bottom?”

“It’s the mistress’s orders, but what’s it to me? The hell with it!”

“Well all right, just give it here, it can go in the side pocket.”

The shaft horse kept on raising and shaking its head, making the bell ring shrilly every time it did so, reminding everyone of the impending departure, while the trace horses stood still, apparently deep in thought with their heads lowered, as they contemplated the delights of the journey ahead, occasionally waving their tails or stretching out their lower lips in the direction of the shaft horse.

The fateful moment was at hand, and another prayer was said.

“Everyone sit down!” commanded Anton Ivanych. “Kindly be seated, Alexander Fyodorych. And you sit down too, Yevsei, yes, sit down!” And just for a second, he himself sat down on the very edge of a chair.

“And now, Godspeed!”

At this very moment, Anna Pavlovna burst into tears and flung her arms around Alexander’s neck.

“Goodbye, goodbye, my love – when will I ever see you again?…”

Suddenly her words were drowned by the sound of another bell from a cart which came hurtling into the courtyard drawn by three horses. A young man covered in dust jumped down from the cart, ran into the room and threw his arms around Alexander’s neck.

“Pospelov!… Aduyev!…” they both exclaimed at the same time, as they embraced.

“What are you doing here, where have you come from?”

“From home, I’ve been galloping day and night to get here to say goodbye.”

“My friend! My friend! What a true friend you are,” said Aduyev with tears in his eyes, “to have galloped 160 versts just to say goodbye! To think that there’s such friendship in the world! For ever, right?” Alexander declared fervently, clasping his friend’s hand, and crushing him in his embrace.

“To the grave!” his friend replied, grasping the other’s hand even more tightly and returning his hug.

“Write to me!”

“Yes, of course, and you too!”

Anna Pavlovna did not know how to express the affection she felt for Pospelov. The leave-takings took another half-hour, before everyone was ready for the departure.

They all escorted the travellers as far as the wood on foot. On their way through the dark passageway to the porch, Sofia and Alexander rushed into each other’s arms.

“Sasha! Dear Sasha!… Sonechka!” they whispered, and their words were silenced by a kiss.

“Will you forget me when you’re there?” she said tearfully.

“How little you know me! I will return, believe me, and no other woman will ever…”

“Here, take this quickly – a lock of my hair and a ring.”

He swiftly pocketed both.

Anna Pavlovna led the way with her son and Pospelov, followed by Maria Karpovna and her daughter, with the priest and Anton Ivanych bringing up the rear. The carriage followed some distance behind. The coachman could barely restrain the horses.