Sanya had gone a long time ago, the old man was at work and Aunt Dasha had already put the dinner on, as she informed me. While I drank my tea she kept making horrified comments on how little I was eating. "So that's how they feed you!" she said tartly. "The gypsy fed his horse better, and that croaked." "You know, Aunt Dasha, I was looking for you at the old place. The houses have been pulled down I see?" "Yes," Aunt Dasha said with a sigh. "Aunt Dasha, do you know the Bubenchikovs?" The Bubenchikovs were relations of Nina Kapitonovna, and I had no doubt that Katya had gone to them. "The people who were pronounced? Who doesn't know them?" "Pronounced?" "The priest pronounced the ban on them," said Aunt Dasha. "They sent him packing, so he pronounced 'em. That was a long time ago, before the Revolution. You were a little boy then. Why do you ask?" "People in Moscow asked me to give them their regards," I lied. Aunt Dasha shook her head doubtfully. "Ah, I see..." I asked Aunt Dasha for an envelope and some paper and sat down to write a letter.
