Again two carriages stood at the front door of the house at Petrovskoe. In oneof them sat Mimi, the two girls, and their maid, with the bailiff, Jakoff, onthe box, while in the other—a britchka—sat Woloda, myself,and our servant Vassili. Papa, who was to follow us to Moscow in a few days,was standing bareheaded on the entrance-steps. He made the sign of the cross atthe windows of the carriages, and said:
“Christ go with you! Good-bye.”
Jakoff and our coachman (for we had our own horses) lifted their caps inanswer, and also made the sign of the cross.
“Amen. God go with us!”
The carriages began to roll away, and the birch-trees of the great avenue filedout of sight.
I was not in the least depressed on this occasion, for my mind was not so muchturned upon what I had left as upon what was awaiting me. In proportion as thevarious objects connected with the sad recollections which had recently filledmy imagination receded behind me, those recollections lost their power, andgave place to a consolatory feeling of life, youthful vigour, freshness, andhope.
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