is rarely absent, even in cases of the utmost affliction — takes off greatly from the force, the dignity, and the sincerity of grief.

Natalia Savishna had been so sorely smitten by her misfortune that not a single wish of her own remained in her soul — she went on living purely by habit.

Having handed over the provisions to Foka, and reminded him of the refreshments which must be ready for the priests, she took up her knitting and seated herself by my side again. The conversation reverted to the old topic, and we once more mourned and shed tears together. These talks with Natalia I repeated every day, for her quiet tears and words of devotion brought me relief and comfort. Soon, however, a parting came. Three days after the funeral we returned to Moscow, and I never saw her again.