going to battle let him wear it. Tell him so, dear friend; say ‘Your mother wishes it.’ ”
I promised to carry out her instructions carefully.
“I know you will grow fond of my Pashenka,” continued the old lady. “He is such a splendid fellow! Will you believe it, he never lets a year pass without sending me some money, and he also helps my daughter, Annoushka, a good deal, and all out of his pay! I thank God for having given me such a child,” she continued with tears in her eyes.
“Does he often write to you?” I asked.
“Seldom, my dear: perhaps once a year. Only when he sends the money, not otherwise. He says, ‘If I don’t write to you, mother, that means I am alive and well. Should anything befall me, which God forbid, they’ll tell you without me.’ ”
When I handed his mother’s present to the captain (it was in my own quarters) he asked for a bit of paper, carefully wrapped it up, and then put it away.
I told him many things about his mother’s life. He remained silent, and when I had finished speaking he went to a corner of the room, and busied himself for what seemed a long time, filling his pipe.
“Yes, she’s a splendid old woman!” he said from there, in rather a muffled voice.
“Will God let me ever see her again?”
These simple words expressed much love and sadness.
“Why do you serve here?” I asked.