before her brother a small, oval, antique, dark-faced icon of the Saviour in a gold setting, on a finely wrought silver chain.
She crossed herself, kissed the icon, and handed it to Andréy.
“Please, André, for my sake! …”
Rays of gentle light shone from her large, timid eyes. Those eyes lit up the whole of her thin, sickly face and made it beautiful.
Her brother would have taken the icon, but she stopped him. Andréy understood, crossed himself and kissed the icon. There was a look of tenderness, for he was touched, but also a gleam of irony on his face.
“Thank you, my dear.”
She kissed him on the forehead and sat down again on the sofa.
They were silent for a while.
“As I was saying to you, André, be kind and generous as you always used