ਇਸ ਸਫ਼ੇ ਦੀ ਪਰੂਫ਼ਰੀਡਿੰਗ ਨਹੀਂ ਕੀਤੀ ਗਈ
ਪਹਿਲਾ ਪਿਆਰ
153
daily struggle with want; she never knew joy, nor tasted of the honey of happiness. Ought she hot to have rejoiced at death, which brought her peace and freedom ? Yet, while there was life in her aged body, while her breast rose laboriously beneath even the slight weight of her icy hands which rested upon it, as long as the last spark of strength had not died out, the old woman kept crossing herself and whispering, “Lord, forgive my sins !"-and only with the last glimmer of consciousness did the expression of fear and dread of death leave her eyes. I remember that there, at the bedside of this poor old woman, I feared for Zinaïda, and wanted to pray for her and for myself.
