He used to say of her: "It's a tree--not a woman! But life is like an inextinguishable wood-pile, and every one of us blazes up sometimes.

She, too, will take fire; wait, give her time.

Then we shall see how she will bloom." "Eh!" Ignat used to say to her jestingly.

"What are you thinking about?
Are you homesick?
Brighten up a bit!" She would remain silent, calmly looking at him.
"You go entirely too often to the church.

You should wait.