“Yes, yes, yes. Find out, if you please, at Stone Bridge.”

The head of the family walked through the rooms with hasty, agitated steps, and seated himself in a chair.

“Now we must decide what to do, how to arrange matters,” he said. “Help along, children, lively! Like good fellows, drag things around, put them up, and tomorrow we shall send Serézha with a note to sister Márya Ivánovna, to the Nikítins, or we shall go there ourselves. Am I right, Natásha? But now, fix things!”

“Tomorrow is Sunday. I hope, Pierre, that first of all you will go to mass,” said his wife, kneeling in front of a trunk and opening it.

“That is so, it is Sunday! We shall by all means all of us go to the Cathedral of the Assumption. Thus will our return begin. O Lord! When I think of the day when I was for the last time in the Cathedral of the Assumption! Do you remember, Natásha? But that is another matter.”