lectures with a magic lantern, a splendid tea-room, and everything
they want. They are very much attached to us, and when they heard
that Lizanka was worse they had a service sung for her. Though they
have no education, they have their feelings, too."

"It looks as though you have no man in the house at all," said
Korolyov.

"Not one. Pyotr Nikanoritch died a year and a half ago, and left
us alone. And so there are the three of us. In the summer we live
here, and in winter we live in Moscow, in Polianka. I have been
living with them for eleven years--as one of the family."

At supper they served sterlet, chicken rissoles, and stewed fruit;
the wines were expensive French wines.

"Please don't stand on ceremony, doctor," said Christina Dmitryevna,
eating and wiping her mouth with her fist, and it was evident she
found her life here exceedingly pleasant. "Please have some more."

After supper the doctor was shown to his room, where a bed had been
made up for him, but he did not feel sleepy. The room was stuffy
and it smelt of paint; he put on his coat and went out.

It was cool in the open air; there was already a glimmer of dawn,
and all the five blocks of buildings, with their tall chimneys,
barracks, and warehouses, were distinctly outlined against the damp
air. As it was a holiday, they were not working, and the windows
were dark, and in only one of the buildings was there a furnace
burning; two windows were crimson, and fire mixed with smoke came