Her mind was hindered from dwelling upon some one thing.
Sofya soon went off somewhere, and reappeared in about five days,
merry and vivacious. Then, in a few hours, she vanished again, and
returned within a couple of weeks. It seemed as if she were borne
along in life in wide circles.
Nikolay, always occupied, lived a monotonous, methodical existence.
At eight o'clock in the morning he drank tea, read the newspapers,
and recounted the news to the mother. He repeated the speeches of
the merchants in the Douma without malice, and clearly depicted the
life in the city.
Listening to him the mother saw with transparent dearness the
mechanism of this life pitilessly grinding the people in the
millstones of money. At nine o'clock he went off to the office.
She tidied the rooms, prepared dinner, washed herself, put on a
clean dress, and then sat in her room to examine the pictures and
the books. She had already learned to read, but the effort of
reading quickly exhausted her; and she ceased to understand the
meaning of the words. But the pictures were a constant astonishment
to her. They opened up before her a clear, almost tangible world of
new and marvelous things.
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