appearance; but we will permit ourselves to say that it was
wonderful and rare).

Paklin laughed at her retort.

"Well done, my dear! I feel quite crushed! But it serves me right
for being such a dwarf! I wonder where our host has got to?"

Paklin purposely changed the subject of conversation, which was
rather a sore one to him. He could never resign himself to his
small stature, nor indeed to the whole of his unprepossessing
figure. He felt it all the more because he was passionately fond of
women and would have given anything to be attractive to them. The
consciousness of his pitiful appearance was a much sorer point
with him than his low origin and unenviable position in society.
His father, a member of the lower middle class, had, through all
sorts of dishonest means, attained the rank of titular
councillor. He had been fairly successful as an intermediary in
legal matters, and managed estates and house property. He had
made a moderate fortune, but had taken to drink towards the end
of his life and had left nothing after his death.

Young Paklin, he was called Sila--Sila Samsonitch, [Meaning strength,
son of Samson] and always regarded this name as a joke against
himself, was educated in a commercial school, where he had acquired
a good knowledge of German. After a great many difficulties he
had entered an office, where he received a salary of five hundred
roubles a year, out of which he had to keep himself, an invalid
aunt, and a humpbacked sister. At the time of our story Paklin
was twenty-eight years old. He had a great many acquaintances