"Darya, I really only wanted to find out…"

The woman shrugged. She clicked the switch on the electric kettle-probably the only object in the kitchen that didn't look as if it had been retrieved from a garbage heap. She looked at Natasha. "Find out? There's nothing to find out. Everything's just as clear as day."

For a moment Natasha had an unpleasant, oppressive sensation, as if there weren't enough light in the kitchen. Everything went gray, the agonized rumbling of the refrigerator and the noise of the traffic on the avenue nearby fell silent. She wiped the icy perspiration off her forehead. It was the heat. The summer, the heat, the long journey in the metro, the crush in the trolley… Why hadn't she taken a taxi? She'd sent away the driver with the car-well, she'd been ashamed to give anyone even a hint of where she was going and why… but why hadn't she taken a taxi?

"Your husband's left you, Natashenka," Darya said affectionately. "Two weeks ago. Left all of a sudden, packed, threw his things into a suitcase and just upped and left you. Without any quarrels, without any arguments. He left the apartment, left the car. And he went to your rival, a pretty young bitch with black eyebrows… but you're not old yet, my daughter."

This time Natasha didn't even react to the words "my daughter." She was trying desperately to remember what she'd told her friend and what she hadn't. She didn't think she'd mentioned black eyebrows. Although the girl really did have a dark complexion, and black hair… Natasha was overcome once again by a wild, blind fury.

"And I know why he left, Natashenka… Forgive me for calling you 'my daughter'-you're a strong woman, used to making up your own mind about things, but you're all like my own daughters to me… You didn't have any children, Natasha. Did you?"

"No," Natasha whispered.

"But why not, my dear?" the seer asked, shaking her head reproachfully. "He wants a daughter, right?"