Tatiana, who had up to that instant borne all the revolting
details of her life with great indifference, could not control herself
upon that; she burst into tears, and as she took her seat in the cart,
she kissed Gerasim three times like a good Christian. He meant to
accompany her as far as the town-barrier, and did walk beside her cart
for a while, but he stopped suddenly at the Crimean ford, waved his
hand, and walked away along the riverside.
It was getting towards evening. He walked slowly, watching the water.
All of a sudden he fancied something was floundering in the mud close to
the bank. He stooped over, and saw a little white-and-black puppy, who,
in spite of all its efforts, could not get out of the water; it was
struggling, slipping back, and trembling all over its thin wet little
body. Gerasim looked at the unlucky little dog, picked it up with one
hand, put it into the bosom of his coat, and hurried with long steps
homewards. He went into his garret, put the rescued puppy on his bed,
covered it with his thick overcoat, ran first to the stable for straw,
and then to the kitchen for a cup of milk. Carefully folding back the
overcoat, and spreading out the straw, he set the milk on the bedstead.
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