Chapter II

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.