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作者: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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"She! Would you believe it, she talks of the silliest trifles
and--man is a strange creature--it makes me angry. The first time
she came in (I was tired you know: the funeral service, the
funeral ceremony, the lunch afterwards. At last I was left alone
in my study. I lighted a cigar and began to think), she came in
at the door. 'You've been so busy to-day, Arkady Ivanovitch, you
have forgotten to wind the dining-room clock,' she said. All
those seven years I've wound that clock every week, and if I
forgot it she would always remind me. The next day I set off on
my way here. I got out at the station at daybreak; I'd been
asleep, tired out, with my eyes half open, I was drinking some
coffee. I looked up and there was suddenly Marfa Petrovna sitting
beside me with a pack of cards in her hands. 'Shall I tell your
fortune for the journey, Arkady Ivanovitch?' She was a great hand
at telling fortunes. I shall never forgive myself for not asking
her to.

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