For fear a serious quarrel should break out between the Little Russian and Pavel, she quickly opened the door and entered the kitchen, shivering, terrified, and distressed.
"Ugh! How cold! And it's spring, too!" She aimlessly removed various things in the kitchen from one place to another, and in order to drown the subdued voices in the room, she continued in a louder voice: "Everything's changed.

People have grown hotter and the weather colder.

At this time of the year it used to get warm; the sky would clear, and the sun would be out." Silence ensued in the room.

The mother stood waiting in the middle of the floor.
"Did you hear ?" came the low sound of the Little Russian's voice.

"You must understand it, the devil take it! That's richer than yours." "Will you have some tea ?" the mother called with a trembling voice, and without waiting for an answer she exclaimed, in order to excuse the tremor in her voice: "How cold I am!" Pavel came up slowly to her, looking at her from the corners of his eyes, a guilty smile quivering on his lips.
"Forgive me, mother!" he said softly.