BOOK ELEVEN: 1812
22. CHAPTER XXII
(continued)
And as soon as the officer let go of the gate handle she turned and,
hurrying away on her old legs, went through the back yard to the
servants' quarters.
While Mavra Kuzminichna was running to her room the officer walked
about the yard gazing at his worn-out boots with lowered head and a
faint smile on his lips. "What a pity I've missed Uncle! What a nice
old woman! Where has she run off to? And how am I to find the
nearest way to overtake my regiment, which must by now be getting near
the Rogozhski gate?" thought he. Just then Mavra Kuzminichna
appeared from behind the corner of the house with a frightened yet
resolute look, carrying a rolled-up check kerchief in her hand.
While still a few steps from the officer she unfolded the kerchief and
took out of it a white twenty-five-ruble assignat and hastily handed
it to him.
"If his excellency had been at home, as a kinsman he would of
course... but as it is..."
Mavra Kuzminichna grew abashed and confused. The officer did not
decline, but took the note quietly and thanked her.
"If the count had been at home..." Mavra Kuzminichna went on
apologetically. "Christ be with you, sir! May God preserve you!"
said she, bowing as she saw him out.
Swaying his head and smiling as if amused at himself, the officer
ran almost at a trot through the deserted streets toward the Yauza
bridge to overtake his regiment.
But Mavra Kuzminichna stood at the closed gate for some time with
moist eyes, pensively swaying her head and feeling an unexpected
flow of motherly tenderness and pity for the unknown young officer.
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