Nikolai Artemyevitch suddenly.

'I!' muttered Anna Vassilyevna, astounded.

'And very likely you are right. I don't wish to deny that I have in
fact sometimes given you just grounds for dissatisfaction' ("my
greys!" flashed through Anna Vassilyevna's head), 'though you must
yourself allow, that in the condition, as you are aware, of your
constitution----'

'And I make no complaint against you, Nikolai Artemyevitch.'

'_C'est possible_. In any case, I have no intention of justifying
myself. Time will justify me. But I regard it as my duty to prove to
you that I understand my duties, and know how to care for--for the
welfare of the family entrusted--entrusted to me.'

'What's the meaning of all this?' Anna Vassilyevna was thinking. (She
could not guess that the preceding evening at the English club a
discussion had arisen in a corner of the smoking-room as to the
incapacity of Russians to make speeches. 'Which of us can speak?
Mention any one!' one of the disputants had exclaimed. 'Well,
Stahov, for instance,' had answered the other, pointing to Nikolai
Artemyevitch, who stood up on the spot almost squealing with delight.)

'For instance,' pursued Nikolai Artemyevitch, 'my daughter Elena.
Don't you consider that the time has come for her to take a decisive
step along the path--to be married, I mean to say. All these
intellectual and philanthropic pursuits are all very well, but only up
to a certain point, up to a certain age. It's time for her to drop her