before the Countess began to ring with all her might. The three
waiting-maids came running in at one door, and the valet at
another.

"How is it that you cannot hear me when I ring for you?" said the
Countess. "Tell Lizaveta Ivanovna that I am waiting for her."

Lizaveta returned with her hat and cloak on.

"At last you are here!" said the Countess. "But why such an
elaborate toilette? Whom do you intend to captivate? What sort of
weather is it? It seems rather windy."

"No, your Ladyship, it is very calm," replied the valet.

"You never think of what you are talking about. Open the window.
So it is; windy and bitterly cold. Unharness the horses, Lizaveta,
we won't go out--there was no need to deck yourself like that."

"What a life is mine!" thought Lizaveta Ivanovna.

And, in truth, Lizaveta Ivanovna was a very unfortunate creature.
"The bread of the stranger is bitter," says Dante, "and his
staircase hard to climb." But who can know what the bitterness of
dependence is so well as the poor companion of an old lady of
quality? The Countess A---- had by no means a bad heart, but she
was capricious, like a woman who had been spoiled by the world, as
well as being avaricious and egotistical, like all old people, who
have seen their best days, and whose thoughts are with the past,
and not the present. She participated in all the vanities of the