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,