with a large chunk of fresh, sweet-smelling black bread, which he gave to Kornéy. When Kornéy, having crossed himself, took the bread, the dumb man turned towards the room door, passed his hands before his face, and made as though he spat—thereby expressing his disapproval of his aunt’s conduct. Suddenly he stopped dead, opened his mouth, and fixed his eyes on Kornéy as though he recognized him. Kornéy could no longer restrain his tears; and, wiping his eyes, nose, and grey beard on the skirt of his coat, turned away and went out into the porch.
He was overcome by a strange feeling of tenderness, elation, humility and meekness towards all men: to her , to his son, to everybody; and this feeling rent his soul with pain and joy.
Martha looked out of the window, and breathed freely only when she saw the old man disappear behind the corner of the house.
When she was sure he had gone, she sat down at her loom and began weaving. Some ten times she struck with the batten, but her hands would not obey her. She stopped, and began thinking, and recalling Kornéy as she had just seen him. She knew it was he who had nearly killed her, and who, before that, had loved her; and she was frightened at what she had just done. She had not done right. But how should she have treated him? He had not even said that he was Kornéy, and that he had come home. And she again took the shuttle, and went on weaving till evening.