There entered a man of lofty stature, in a neat coat, short trousers,
grey chamois-skin gloves, and two neckties--one black, on top, and the
other white, underneath. Everything about him exhaled decorum and
propriety, beginning with his good-looking face and smoothly brushed
temple-curls, and ending with his boots, which had neither heels nor
squeak. He bowed first to the mistress of the house, then to Marfa
Timofeevna, and slowly drawing off his gloves, took Marya Dmitrievna's
hand. After kissing it twice in succession, with respect, he seated
himself, without haste, in an arm-chair, and said with a smile, as he
rubbed the very tips of his fingers:
"And is Elizaveta Mikhailovna well?"
"Yes,"--replied Marya Dmitrievna,--"she is in the garden."
"And Elena Mikhailovna?"
"Lyenotchka is in the garden also. Is there anything new?"
"How could there fail to be, ma'am, how could there fail to be,"--returned
the visitor, slowly blinking his eyes, and protruding his lips. "Hm! ...
now, here's a bit of news, if you please, and a very astounding bit:
Lavretzky, Feodor Ivanitch, has arrived."
"Fedya?"--exclaimed Marfa Timofeevna.--"But come now, my father, art
not thou inventing that?"
"Not in the least, ma'am, I saw him myself."
"Well, that's no proof."
"He has recovered his health finely,"--went on Gedeonovsky, pretending
not to hear Marfa Timofeevna's remark:--"he has grown broader in the
shoulders, and the rosy colour covers the whole of his cheeks."
"He has recovered his health,"--ejaculated Marya Dmitrievna, with
pauses:--"that means, that he had something to recover from?"
"Yes, ma'am,"--returned Gedeonovsky:--"Any other man, in his place,
would have been ashamed to show himself in the world."
"Why so?"--interrupted Marfa Timofeevna;--"what nonsense is this? A man
returns to his native place--what would you have him do with himself? And
as if he were in any way to blame!"
"The husband is always to blame, madam, I venture to assure you, when the
wife behaves badly."
"Thou sayest that, my good sir, because thou hast never been married
thyself." Gedeonovsky smiled in a constrained way.
"Permit me to inquire," he asked, after a brief pause,--"for whom is that
very pretty scarf destined?"
Marfa Timofeevna cast a swift glance at him.
"It is destined"--she retorted,--"for the man who never gossips, nor uses
craft, nor lies, if such a man exists in the world. I know Fedya well;
his sole fault is, that he was too indulgent to his wife. Well, he married
for love, and nothing good ever comes of those love-marriages,"--added the
old woman, casting a sidelong glance at Marya Dmitrievna, and
rising.--"And now, dear little father, thou mayest whet thy teeth on
whomsoever thou wilt, only not on me; I'm going away, I won't
interfere."--And Marfa Timofeevna withdrew.
"There, she is always like that,"--said Marya Dmitrievna, following her
aunt with her eyes:--"Always!"
"It's her age! There's no help for it, ma'am!" remarked
Gedeonovsky.--"There now, she permitted herself to say: 'the man who
does not use craft.' But who doesn't use craft nowadays? it's the spirit
of the age. One of my friends, a very estimable person, and, I must tell
you, a man of no mean rank, was wont to say: that 'nowadays, a hen
approaches a grain of corn craftily--she keeps watching her chance to get
to it from one side.' But when I look at you, my lady, you have a truly
angelic disposition; please to favour me with your snow-white little
hand."
Marya Dmitrievna smiled faintly, and extended her plump hand, with the
little finger standing out apart, to Gedeonovsky. He applied his lips to
it, and she moved her arm-chair closer to him, and bending slightly
toward him, she asked in a low tone:
"So, you have seen him? Is he really--all right, well, cheerful?"
"He is cheerful, ma'am; all right, ma'am," returned Gedeonovsky, in a
whisper.
"And you have not heard where his wife is now?"
"She has recently been in Paris, ma'am; now, I hear, she has removed to
the kingdom of Italy."
"It is dreadful, really,--Fedya's position; I do not know how he can
endure it. Accidents do happen, with every one, in fact; but he, one may
say, has been advertised all over Europe."
Gedeonovsky sighed.
"Yes, ma'am; yes, ma'am. Why, she, they say, has struck up acquaintance
with artists, and pianists, and, as they call it in their fashion, with
lions and wild beasts. She has lost her shame, completely...."
"It is very, very sad,"--said Marya Dmitrievna:--"on account of the
relationship; for you know, Sergyei Petrovitch, he's my nephew, once
removed."
"Of course, ma'am; of course, ma'am. How could I fail to be aware of
everything which relates to your family? Upon my word, ma'am!"
"Will he come to see us,--what do you think?"
"We must assume that he will, ma'am; but I hear, that he is going to his
country estate."
Marya Dmitrievna cast her eyes heavenward.
"Akh, Sergyei Petrovitch, when I think of it, how circumspectly we
women must behave!"
"There are different sorts of women, Marya Dmitrievna. Unfortunately,
there are some of fickle character ... well, and it's a question of age,
also; then, again, the rules have not been inculcated in their
childhood." (Sergyei Petrovitch pulled a checked blue handkerchief out
of his pocket, and began to unfold it).--"Such women exist, of course,"
(Sergyei Petrovitch raised a corner of the handkerchief to his eyes,
one after the other),--"but, generally speaking, if we take into
consideration, that is.... There is an unusual amount of dust in town,"
he concluded.
"_Maman, maman_"--screamed a pretty little girl of eleven, as she rushed
into the room:--"Vladimir Nikolaitch is coming to our house on
horseback!"
Marya Dmitrievna rose; Sergyei Petrovitch also rose and bowed:--"Our
most humble salute to Elena Mikhailovna," he said, and withdrawing into
a corner, out of propriety, he began to blow his long and regularly-formed
nose.
"What a splendid horse he has!--" went on the little girl.--"He was at
the gate just now, and told Liza and me, that he would ride up to the
porch."
The trampling of hoofs became audible; and a stately horseman, on a fine
brown steed, made his appearance in the street, and halted in front of
the open window.