there is nothing the matter with me. You had better go to bed, it's late."
"Verochka!" groaned her mother. "My little daughter, confide in me!"
"Oh! mamma!" said Vera, impatiently interrupting her.
Father Ignaty sat down on a chair and began to laugh.
"Well then, nothing is the matter after all?" he asked ironically.
"Father," said Vera, in a sharp voice, raising herself up on her bed, "you know that I love you and mamma. But—I do feel so dull. All this will pass away. Really, you had better go to bed. I want to sleep, too. To-morrow, or sometime, we will have a talk."
Father Ignaty rose abruptly, so that his chair bumped against the wall, and took his wife's arm.
"Let's go!"
"Verochka!"
"Let's go—I tell you," cried Father Ignaty.
"If she has forgotten God, shall we too! Why should we!"
He drew Olga Stepanovna away, almost by main force, and as they were descending the stairs, she, dragging her steps more slowly, said in an angry whisper:
"Ugh! pope, it's you who have made her so. It's from you she has got this manner. And you'll have to answer for it. Ah! how wretched I am——"
