And Ivan Petrovitch set off to Ptersburg with a light heart. An unknown
future awaited him; poverty perhaps menaced him, but he had broken away
from the country life he detested, and above all, he had not been false
to his teachers, he had actually put into practice the doctrines of
Rousseau, Diderot, and la Declaration des droits de l'homme. A sense of
having done his duty, of triumph, and of pride filled his soul; and
indeed the separation from his wife did not greatly afflict him; he
would have been more perturbed by the necessity of being constantly with
her. That deed was done, now he wanted to set about doing something
fresh. In Petersburg, contrary to his own expectations, he met with
success; the Princess Kubensky, whom Monsieur Courtin had by that time
deserted, but who was still living, in order to make up in some way to
her nephew for having wronged him, gave him introductions to all her
friends, and presented him with 5000 roubles--almost all that remained
of her money--and a Lepkovsky watch with his monogram encircled by
Cupids.

Three months had not passed before he obtained a position in a Russian
embassy to London, and in the first English vessel that sailed (steamers
were not even talked of then) he crossed the sea. A few months later he
received a letter from Pestov. The good-natured landowner congratulated
Ivan Petrovitch on the birth of a son, who had been born into the world
in the village of Pokrovskoe on the 20th of August, 1807, and named
Fedor, in honour of the holy martyr Fedor Stratilat. On account of her
extreme weakness Malanya Sergyevna added only a few lines; but those few
lines were a surprise, for Ivan Petrovitch had not known that Marfa
Timofyevna had taught his wife to read and write. Ivan Petrovitch did
not long abandon himself to the sweet emotion of parental feeling; he
was dancing attendance on a notorious Phryne or Lais of the day
(classical names were still in vogue at that date); the Peace of Tilsit