note of invitation, these letters, R.S.V.P.? Even in the country
there's no peace for me. Addio!' Bersenyev listened to Shubin's tirade
in silence, looking as though he were just a little ashamed of him.
Then he went into the courtyard of the Stahovs' house. And Shubin did
really go to Prince Tchikurasov, to whom with the most cordial air he
began saying the most insulting things. The Maecenas of the Tartars of
Kazan chuckled; the Maecenas's guests laughed, but no one felt merry,
and every one was in a bad temper when the party broke up. So two
gentlemen slightly acquainted may be seen when they meet on the Nevsky
Prospect suddenly grinning at one another and pursing up their eyes
and noses and cheeks, and then, directly they have passed one another,
they resume their former indifferent, often cross, and generally
sickly, expression.




X


Elena met Bersenyev cordially, though not in the garden, but the
drawing-room, and at once, almost impatiently, renewed the
conversation of the previous day. She was alone; Nikolai Artemyevitch
had quietly slipped away. Anna Vassilyevna was lying down upstairs
with a wet bandage on her head. Zoya was sitting by her, the folds of
her skirt arranged precisely about her, and her little hands clasped
on her knees. Uvar Ivanovitch was reposing in the attic on a wide and
comfortable divan, known as a 'samo-son' or 'dozer.' Bersenyev
again mentioned his father; he held his memory sacred. Let us, too,
say a few words about him.