This happy life lasted five years; then Dmitry Pestof died.  His widow, a lady of a kindly character, respected the memory of her late husband too much to wish to treat her rival with ignominy, especially as Agafia had never forgotten herself in her presence; but she married her to a herdsman, and sent her away from her sight.  Three years passed by.  One hot summer day the lady happened to pay a visit to the cattle-yard.  Agafia treated her to such a cool dish of rich cream, behaved herself so modestly, and looked so clean, so happy, so contented with every thing, that her mistress informed her that she was pardoned, and allowed her to return into the house.  Before six months had passed, the lady had become, so attached to her that she promoted her to the post of housekeeper, and confided all the domestic arrangements to her care.  Thus Agafia came back into power, and again became fair and plump.  Her mistress trusted her implicitly.

So passed five more years.  Then misfortune came a second time on Agafia.  Her husband, for whom she had obtained a place as footman, took to drink, began to absent himself from the house, and ended by stealing half-a-dozen of his mistress’s silver spoons and hiding them, till a fitting opportunity should arise for carrying them off in his wife’s box.  The theft was found out.  He was turned into a herdsman again, and Agafia fell into disgrace.  She was not dismissed from the house, but she was degraded from the position of housekeeper to that of a needle-woman, and she was ordered to wear a handkerchief on her head instead of a cap.  To every one’s astonishment, Agafia bore the punishment inflicted on her with calm humility.  By this time she was about thirty years old, all her children were dead, and her husband soon afterwards died also.  The season of reflection had arrived for her, and she did reflect.  She became very silent and very devout, never once letting matins or mass go unheeded by, and she gave away all her fine clothes.  For fifteen years she led a quiet, grave, peaceful life, quarrelling with no one, giving way to all.  If any one spoke to her harshly, she only bent her head and returned thanks for the lesson.  Her mistress had forgiven her long ago, and had taken the ban off her—­had even given her a cap off her own head to wear.  But she herself refused to doff her handkerchief, and she would never consent to wear any but a sombre-colored dress.  After the death of her mistress she became even more quiet and more humble than before.  It is easy to work upon a Russian’s fears and to secure his attachment, but it is difficult to acquire his esteem; that he will not readily give, nor will he give it to every one.  But the whole household esteemed Agafia.  No one even so much as remembered her former faults; it was as if they had been buried in the grave with her old master.

When Kalitine married Maria Dmitrievna, he wanted to entrust the care of his household to Agafia; but she refused, “on account of temptation.”  He began to scold her, but she only bowed low and left the room.  The shrewd Kalitine generally understood people; so he understood Agafia’s character, and did not lose sight of her.  When he settled in town, he appointed her, with her consent, to the post of nurse to Liza, who was then just beginning her fifth year.