Half dead with fright, Malanya Sergyevna went into Piotr Andreitch's room.

A nurse followed, carrying Fedya.
Piotr Andreitch looked at her without speaking; she went up to kiss his hand; her trembling lips were only just able to touch it with a silent kiss.
"Well, my upstart lady," he brought out at last, "how do you do?
let us go to the mistress." He got up and bent over Fedya: the baby smiled and held out his little white hands to him.

This changed the old man's mood.
"Ah," he said, "poor little one, you were pleading for your father; I will not abandon you, little bird." Directly Malanya Sergyevna entered Anna Pavlovna's bedroom, she fell on her knees near the door.

Anna Pavlovna beckoned her to come to her bedside, embraced her, and blessed her son; then turning a face contorted by cruel suffering to her husband she made an effort to speak.
"I know, I know, what you want to ask," said Piotr Andreitch; "don't fret yourself, she shall stay with us, and I will forgive Vanka for her sake." With an effort Anna Pavlovna took her husband's hand and pressed it to her lips.

The same evening she breathed her last.
Piotr Andreitch kept his word.