This woman’s story was remarkable.  She came of a peasant family.  She was married at sixteen to a peasant; but she was strikingly different from her peasant sisters.  Her father had been twenty years starosta, and had made a good deal of money, and he spoiled her.  She was exceptionally beautiful, the best-dressed girl in the whole district, clever, ready with her tongue, and daring.  Her master Dmitri Pestov, Marya Dmitrievna’s father, a man of modest and gentle character, saw her one day at the threshing-floor, talked to her and fell passionately in love with her.  She was soon left a widow; Pestov, though he was a married man, took her into his house and dressed her like a lady.  Agafya at once adapted herself to her new position, just as if she had never lived differently all her life.  She grew fairer and plumper; her arms grew as “floury white” under her muslin-sleeves as a merchant’s lady’s; the samovar never left her table; she would wear nothing except silk or velvet, and slept on well-stuffed feather-beds.  This blissful existence lasted for five years, but Dmitri Pestov died; his widow, a kind-hearted woman, out of regard for the memory of the deceased, did not wish to treat her rival unfairly, all the more because Agafya had never forgotten herself in her presence.  She married her, however, to a shepherd, and sent her a long way off.  Three years passed.  It happened one hot summer day that her mistress in driving past stopped at the cattle-yard.  Agafya regaled her with such delicious cool cream, behaved so modestly, and was so neat, so bright, and so contented with everything that her mistress signified her forgiveness to her and allowed her to return to the house.  Within six months she had become so much attached to her that she raised her to be housekeeper, and intrusted the whole household management to her.  Agafya again returned to power, and again grew plump and fair; her mistress put the most complete confidence in her.  So passed five years more.  Misfortune again overtook Agafya.  Her husband, whom she had promoted to be a footman, began to drink, took to vanishing from the house, and ended by stealing six of the mistress’ silver spoons and hiding them till a favourable moment in his wife’s box.  It was opened.  He was sent to be a shepherd again, and Agafya fell into disgrace.  She was not turned out of the house, but was degraded from housekeeper to being a sewing-woman and was ordered to wear a kerchief on her head instead of a cap.  To the astonishment of every one, Agafya accepted with humble resignation the blow that had fallen upon her.  She was at that time about thirty, all her children were dead and her husband did not live much longer.  The time had come for her to reflect.  And she did reflect.  She became very silent and devout, never missed a single matin’s service nor a single mass, and gave away all her fine clothes.  She spent fifteen years quietly, peacefully, and soberly, never quarrelling with any one and giving way to every