"How Olga
Semyonovna, the poor darling, is grieving!"
Three months afterwards Olenka was returning home from mass,
downhearted and in deep mourning. Beside her walked a man also
returning from church, Vasily Pustovalov, the manager of the merchant
Babakayev's lumber-yard. He was wearing a straw hat, a white vest with
a gold chain, and looked more like a landowner than a business man.
"Everything has its ordained course, Olga Semyonovna," he said
sedately, with sympathy in his voice. "And if any one near and dear to
us dies, then it means it was God's will and we should remember that
and bear it with submission."
He took her to the wicket-gate, said good-bye and went away. After
that she heard his sedate voice the whole day; and on closing her eyes
she instantly had a vision of his dark beard. She took a great liking
to him. And evidently he had been impressed by her, too; for, not long
after, an elderly woman, a distant acquaintance, came in to have a cup
of coffee with her. As soon as the woman was seated at table she began
to speak about Pustovalov--how good he was, what a steady man, and any
woman could be glad to get him as a husband.
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