She had grown accustomed to these noises; they no longer frightened her.

A soft, joyous sensation thrilled her heart, and a vague hope quickly brought her to her feet.

Throwing a shawl over her shoulders, she hurried to the door and opened it.
Samoylov walked in, followed by another man with his face hidden behind the collar of his overcoat and under a hat thrust over his eyebrows.
"Did we wake you ?" asked Samoylov, without greeting the mother, his face gloomy and thoughtful, contrary to his wont.
"I was not asleep," she said, looking at them with expectant eyes.
Samoylov's companion took off his hat, and breathing heavily and hoarsely said in a friendly basso, like an old acquaintance, giving her his broad, short-fingered hand: "Good evening, granny! You don't recognize me ?" "Is it you ?" exclaimed Nilovna, with a sudden access of delight.

"Yegor Ivanovich ?" "The very same identical one!" replied he, bowing his large head with its long hair.

There was a good-natured smile on his face, and a clear, caressing look in his small gray eyes.