A tall man came into the room, wearing a good enough coat, rather
short trousers, thick grey gloves, and two cravats--a black one
outside, a white one underneath. Every thing belonging to him was
suggestive of propriety and decorum, from his well-proportioned face,
with locks carefully smoothed down over the temples, to his heelless
and never-creaking boots. He bowed first to the mistress of the house,
then to Marfa Timofeevna, and afterwards, having slowly taken off his
gloves, he approached Maria Dmitrievna and respectfully kissed her
hand twice. After that he leisurely subsided into an easy-chair, and
asked, as he smilingly rubbed together the tips of his fingers--
"Is Elizaveta quite well?"
"Yes," replied Maria Dmitrievna, "she is in the garden."
"And Elena Mikhailovna?"
"Lenochka is in the garden also. Have you any news?"
"Rather!" replied the visitor, slowly screwing up his eyes, and
protruding his lips. "Hm! here is a piece of news, if you please, and
a very startling one, too. Fedor Ivanovich Lavretsky has arrived."
"Fedia!" exclaimed Marfa Timofeevna. "You're inventing, are you not?"
"Not at all. I have seen him with my own eyes."
"That doesn't prove any thing."
"He's grown much more robust," continued Gedeonovsky, looking as if
he had not heard Marfa Timofeevna's remark; "his shoulders have
broadened, and his cheeks are quite rosy."
"Grown more robust," slowly repeated Maria Dmitrievna. "One would
think he hadn't met with much to make him robust."
"That is true indeed," said Gedeonovsky. "Any one else, in his place,
would have scrupled to show himself in the world."
"And why, I should like to know?" broke in Marfa Timofeevna. "What
nonsense you are talking! A man comes back to his home. Where else
would you have him betake himself? And, pray, in what has he been to
blame?"
"A husband is always to blame, madam, if you will allow me to say so,
when his wife behaves ill."
"You only say that, _batyushka_,[A] because you have never been
married."
[Footnote A: Father.]
Gedeonovsky's only reply was a forced smile. For a short time he
remained silent, but presently he said, "May I be allowed to be so
inquisitive as to ask for whom this pretty scarf is intended?"
Marfa Timofeevna looked up at him quickly.
"For whom is it intended?" she said. "For a man who never slanders,
who does not intrigue, and who makes up no falsehoods--if, indeed,
such a man is to be found in the world. I know Fedia thoroughly well;
the only thing for which he is to blame is that he spoilt his wife. To
be sure he married for love; and from such love-matches no good ever
comes," added the old lady, casting a side glance at Maria Dmitrievna.
Then, standing up, she added: "But now you can whet your teeth on whom
you will; on me, if you like. I'm off. I won't hinder you any longer."
And with these words she disappeared.
"She is always like that," said Maria Dmitrievna following her aunt
with her eyes--"always."
"What else can be expected of her at her time of life?" replied
Gedeonovsky. "Just see now! 'Who does not intrigue?' she was pleased
to say. But who is there nowadays who doesn't intrigue? It is the
custom of the present age. A friend of mine--a most respectable man,
and one, I may as well observe, of no slight rank--used to say,
'Nowadays, it seems, if a hen wants a grain of corn she approaches it
cunningly, watches anxiously for an opportunity of sidling up to it.'
But when I look at you, dear lady, I recognize in you a truly angelic
nature. May I be allowed to kiss your snow-white hand?"
Maria Dmitrievna slightly smiled, and held out her plump hand to
Gedeonovsky, keeping the little finger gracefully separated from the
rest; and then, after he had raised her hand to his lips, she drew her
chair closer to his, bent a little towards him, and asked, in a low
voice--
"So you have seen him? And is he really well and in good spirits?"
"In excellent spirits," replied Gedeonovsky in a whisper.
"You haven't heard where his wife is now?"
"A short time ago she was in Paris; but she is gone away, they say,
and is now in Italy."
"Really it is shocking--Fedia's position. I can't think how he manages
to bear it. Every one, of course, has his misfortunes; but his
affairs, one may say, have become known all over Europe."
Gedeonovsky sighed.
"Quite so, quite so! They say she has made friends with artists and
pianists; or, as they call them there, with lions and other wild
beasts. She has completely lost all sense of shame--"
"It's very, very sad," said Maria Dmitrievna; "especially for a
relation. You know, don't you, Sergius Petrovich, that he is a
far-away cousin of mine?"
"To be sure, to be sure! You surely don't suppose I could be ignorant
of any thing that concerns your family."
"Will he come to see us? What do you think?"
"One would suppose so; but afterwards, I am told, he will go and live
on his estate in the country."
Maria Dmitrievna lifted her eyes towards heaven.
"Oh, Sergius Petrovich, Sergius Petrovich! how often I think how
necessary it is for us women to behave circumspectly!"
"There are women and women, Maria Dmitrievna. There are,
unfortunately, some who are--of an unstable character; and then there
is a certain time of life--and, besides, good principles have not been
instilled into them when they were young."
Here Sergius Petrovich drew from his pocket a blue handkerchief, of a
check pattern, and began to unfold it.
"Such women, in fact, do exist."
Here Sergius Petrovich applied a corner of the handkerchief to each of
his eyes in turn.
"But, generally speaking, if one reflects--that is to say--The dust in
the streets is something extraordinary," he ended by saying.
"_Maman, maman_," exclaimed a pretty little girl of eleven, who
came running into the room, "Vladimir Nikolaevich is coming here on
horseback."
Maria Dmitrievna rose from her chair. Sergius Petrovich also got up
and bowed.
"My respects to Elena Mikhailovna," he said; and, discreetly retiring
to a corner, he betook himself to blowing his long straight nose.
"What a lovely horse he has!" continued the little girl. "He was at
the garden gate just now, and he told me and Liza that he would come
up to the front door."
The sound of hoofs was heard, and a well appointed cavalier, mounted
on a handsome bay horse, rode up to the house, and stopped in front of
the open window.