vanished like smoke, his soft eyes assumed a cruel expression,
ugly words would flow from his beautiful mouth, and he usually
got the best of an argument by appealing to the authorities.

His family had once been simple gardeners. His great-grandfather
was called Kolomientzov after the place in which he was born; his
grandfather used to sign himself Kolomietzev; his father added
another I and wrote himself Kollomietzev, and finally Simion
Petrovitch considered himself to be an aristocrat of the bluest
blood, with pretensions to having descended from the well-known
Barons von Gallenmeier, one of whom had been a field-marshal in
the Thirty Years' War. Simion Petrovitch was a chamberlain, and
served in the ministerial court. His patriotism had prevented him
from entering the diplomatic service, for which he was cut out by
his personal appearance, education, knowledge of the world, and
his success with women. Mais quitter la Russie? Jamais!
Kollomietzev was rich and had a great many influential friends.
He passed for a promising, reliable young man un peu feodal dans
ses opinions, as Prince B. said of him, and Prince B. was one of
the leading lights in St. Petersburg official circles.
Kollomietzev had come away on a two months' leave to look after
his estate, that is, to threaten and oppress his peasants a
little more. "You can't get on without that!" he used to say.

"I thought that your husband would have been here by now," he
began, rocking himself from one leg to the other. He suddenly
drew himself up and looked down sideways--a very dignified pose.

Valentina Mihailovna made a grimace.