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A VITAL QUESTION.
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conclusion of the couplet,—at least they ought to have vanished and to have been concealed, and they would have vanished had the lady been in a different frame of mind; but now these few melancholy notes are made more prominent than the others. She almost trembles as she perceives it; she lowers her voice as she sings them, and tries to sing the joyful notes louder; but again her mind is drawn away from her song by her own thoughts, and then again the melancholy notes become prominent. Evidently the young woman does not like to give in to melancholy, and it is no less evident that the melancholy is loath to leave her, no matter how hard she tries to drive it away. But whether melancholy or joyful, whether or no it becomes joyful in the spirit of the song, the young woman sews very industriously. She is a good seamstress.

A young servant girl comes into the room.

"Do you see, Masha, how I am sewing? I have almost finished the cuffs which I am getting ready to wear at your wedding."

"Akh! there is much less work in them than in those which you made for me."

"That's of no matter! a bride ought to be dressed better than anybody else at her own wedding."

"And I have brought you a letter, Viéra Pavlovna."

Viéra Pavlovna's face expressed perplexity, as she began to break open the letter; the envelope bore the city post-mark.

"How is this? Isn't he in Moscow?" She hastily unfolded the letter and grew pale; her hand holding the letter fell to her side.

"No, it is not so; I have scarcely had a chance to read the letter; there is nothing in it at all."

And again she lifted her hand with the letter. All this took place in two seconds. But at the second reading her eyes looked long and immovably at the few lines of the letter, and the brightness of their expression grew dimmer and dimmer; the sheet fell from her nerveless hands to the work-table; she hid her face in her hands; she began to weep.

"What have I done? "What have I done?" And again sobs.

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"Viérotchka [Little Viéra]! What is the matter with you? Are you so fond of weeping? How often does this happen? What is the matter with you?"—a young man came into the room with quick but gentle, careful steps.