stooped down, and was about to stroke her, but Mumu turned her head
abruptly, and showed her teeth. The lady hurriedly drew back her
hand. . . .

A momentary silence followed. Mumu gave a faint whine, as though she
would complain and apologize. . . . The old lady moved back, scowling.
The dog's sudden movement had frightened her.

"Ah!" shrieked all the companions at once, "she's not bitten you, has
she? Heaven forbid! (Mumu had never bitten any one in her life.) Ah!
ah!"

"Take her away," said the old lady in a changed voice. "Wretched little
dog! What a spiteful creature!"

And, turning round deliberately, she went towards her boudoir. Her
companions looked timidly at one another, and were about to follow her,
but she stopped, stared coldly at them, and said, "What's that for,
pray? I've not called you," and went out.

The companions waved their hands to Stepan in despair. He picked up
Mumu, and flung her promptly outside the door, just at Gerasim's feet,
and half an hour later a profound stillness led in the house, and the
old lady sat on her sofa looking blacker than a thundercloud.

What trifles, if you think of it, will sometimes disturb any one!

Till evening the lady was out of humor; she did not talk to any one, did
not play cards, and passed a bad night. She fancied the eau-de-Cologne
they gave her was not the same as she usually had, and that her pillow