The General’s Lady, quite the most important member of the present gathering, before whom everybody walked in trepidation, was a withered and bilious old woman dressed in black — her bile obviously stemming from old age and the loss of the last of her faculties, which indeed had been feeble enough at the best of times. Even in her early years she had been demanding and petulant; marriage to the General had made her still more stupid and overbearing. During her fits of anger hell would break loose in the house. Her tantrums would take two forms. The first was characterized by total speechlessness when for days on end not a word would pass her lips and she would push away or throw onto the floor anything that was placed before her. The other form was the exact opposite — garrulity. It would begin with Grandmother — she was after all my grandmother — sinking into a slough of despond when she would foresee the end of the world and her estate, and anticipate poverty and every calamity; then she would become intoxicated with her own presentiments to the point of gleefully enumerating on her fingers all her future disasters and finally whipping herself into a state of jubilant hysteria. It would transpire, of course, that she had foreseen everything long ago and had kept quiet only because ‘in this house’ she was forced to do so. But if only she had been shown respect, if only she had been listened to, then … etc., etc. All this would immediately be seconded by her ranks of hangers-on led by Perepelitsyna, and then solemnly affirmed by Foma Fomich. At the particular moment when I was introduced to her she was in the grip of terrible anger apparently of the first type, the silent and more terrifying variety. Everybody was looking at her in trepidation. Only Tatyana Ivanovna, who was allowed to do just as she pleased, remained in excellent spirits. With deliberate solemnity, Uncle led me to my grandmother; but the old lady, making a sour grimace, angrily pushed away her cup.

  ‘Is that the vol-ti-geur?’ she exclaimed in a sing-song tone through clenched teeth, addressing Perepelitsyna.

  This inane question completely disconcerted me. I had no idea why she referred to me as the voltigeur, but such questions were not unusual for her. Perepelitsyna leaned over and whispered something in her ear at which the old woman irritably waved her hand. I stood agape, looking inquiringly at my uncle. Everybody exchanged glances, and Obnoskin even bared his teeth, which I found particularly repugnant.

  ‘She doesn’t always talk sense,’ Uncle whispered to me, also slightly shaken, ‘but it’s nothing, it’s all because she’s so kind-hearted, it’s her heart that counts.’

  ‘Ah yes, the heart! the heart!’ the clarion voice of Tatyana Ivanovna suddenly resounded, her eyes never leaving my face as she moved about restlessly on her chair. The whispered word ‘heart’ had evidently reached her ears.

  However, she did not finish her remark, even though she was clearly anxious to say something. Either from embarrassment or for some other reason, she stopped abruptly, blushed, bent over to whisper something to the governess, and then suddenly covering her face with her handkerchief, threw herself back against her chair and burst into an almost hysterical fit of laughter. I looked round the room in utter consternation; to my surprise, however, everybody remained quite composed and carried on as though nothing remarkable had occurred. Of course, I understood who Tatyana Ivanovna was. At last I was offered tea, and I began to feel more at ease. I cannot explain why, but it suddenly occurred to me that I should enter into polite conversation with the ladies.

  ‘You were quite right, Uncle,’ I began, ‘to warn me that it’s difficult to keep one’s nerve here. I’ll not conceal,’ I turned with an ingratiating smile to Madame Obnoskin, ‘I’ve hardly known female company until recently, and when I made such an unfortunate entry just now I must have cut a very funny figure standing in the middle of the room — the simpleton all over, don’t you think? … Have you read The Simpleton?’ I concluded with mounting embarrassment and, blushing with shame at my tone of obsequious frankness, I stared hard at Monsieur Obnoskin, who had bared his teeth and was scrutinizing me from head to toe.

  ‘Exactly, exactly, exactly!’ Uncle suddenly exclaimed in an unusually animated voice, genuinely grateful that conversation of sorts was finally under way and that I appeared to be more at ease. ‘My boy, what you just said about being unnerved is nothing. All right, so you were unnerved, and that’s the end of the matter! But when I made my first entry into society, I went so far as to tell a lie — don’t believe me if you don’t want to. Now I tell you, Anfisa Petrovna, this is worth listening to. I had just become a cadet in the army and had arrived in Moscow with a letter of introduction to a very eminent lady — an imperious woman, if ever there was one, but in fact extremely kind-hearted, whatever people might have been saying about her. I arrived, and she was receiving. The drawing-room was packed with people, real bigwigs. I made my bow and took a seat. At the second word she says to me: “Have you, my good fellow, any estates?” Of course, I hadn’t a chicken to my name, but what was I to say? I was embarrassed out of my life. Everybody was staring at me (well now, young cadet!). Now, why couldn’t I have just said: “I’ve nothing”? I should have come out of it with honour, because I should have told the truth. But that was too much to ask. “Yes,” I replied, “one hundred and seventeen serfs.” Why the odd seventeen, I’ll never know. After all, if you’re going to tell a lie, do it in round figures, don’t you agree? Anyway, the letter immediately revealed that I was as poor as a church mouse, and a liar to boot. Impossible situation! I took to my heels and never went back there again. And I was penniless at the time, you know. All I possess now has been inherited since then: three hundred serfs from Uncle Afanasy Matveyich, and before that two hundred with Kapitonovka from grandmother Akulina Fanfilovna — that’s a total of five hundred odd. So from then on I promised never to tell a lie again — and I haven’t!’

  ‘Well, wasn’t it a rash promise to make? God only knows what may happen,’ Obnoskin remarked with a derisory leer.

  ‘Yes, of course, that’s true! God only knows what may happen,’ Uncle agreed simply.

  Obnoskin threw himself back in his chair and burst out laughing; his mother smiled; there was something decidedly vile in the way Miss Perepelitsyna sniggered too; and for some reason Tatyana Ivanovna began to laugh, even clap her hands — in short, I clearly saw that nobody respected Uncle even in his own house. Sasha’s eyes flashed angrily as she fixed her gaze on Obnoskin. The governess blushed and hung her head. Uncle seemed surprised.

  ‘What! What’s the matter?’ he repeated, looking round, quite lost.

  All this time my cousin Mizinchikov was sitting in silence a little apart from everybody, and didn’t so much as show a smile when everybody else was laughing. He busily sipped his tea, philosophically studying the company, and several times, as if to break out of excruciating boredom, would begin to whistle, an old habit no doubt, but always checked himself just in time. I noticed that Obnoskin, who delighted in mocking Uncle and making sallies at me, hardly dared glance at Mizinchikov. I also noticed that my taciturn cousin would occasionally cast visible curious glances in my direction as though anxious to establish just who the devil I might be.

  ‘I am certain,’ Madame Obnoskin suddenly chirped, ‘I am certain, Monsieur Serge — that is your name, is it not? — that in that St Petersburg of yours you showed no great love for women. I know there are now many, a great many young people who completely reject female company. To my mind they’re all freethinkers: I can only regard it as unpardonable free-thinking. And I must admit to you, it astonishes me, young man, simply astonishes me!’

  ‘I’ve not been in society at all,’ I hastened to reply with unusual animation. ‘But … I don’t think there’s any harm in that … I lived, that is, I had rooms … still, be that as it may … I shall get to know people, whereas before I stayed at home most of the time …’

  ‘At his studies,’ Uncle remarked solemnly.

  ‘Oh, Uncle, you do go on about studying! … Imagine,’ I continued in an unnaturally casual tone, turning again to Madame Obnoskin and smiling ingratiatingly, ‘my dear uncle is so devoted to science that he has unearthed, God knows where from, some miracle-performing practical philosopher, a certain Mr Korovkin, and the first word I hear from him today, after all these years of separation, is that he’s expecting this marvel in feverish excitement … all for the love of science, it would appear …’

  And I began to giggle, hoping to draw some general laughter in recognition of my wit.

  ‘What was that? Who’s he talking about?’ croaked the General’s Lady in a harsh voice, turning towards Perepelitsyna.

  ‘Yegor Ilyich has been tramping up and down the highways inviting scientists to the house,’ the spinster squeaked with relish.

  Uncle looked completely lost.

  ‘Oh yes! I’d quite forgotten!’ he exclaimed, casting a look of reproach at me. ‘I’m expecting Korovkin. A learned man this Korovkin, a man to go down in history …’

  He hesitated and stopped. The General’s Lady threw up her arms, this time with such deadly accuracy that her cup of tea flew across the room and smashed to smithereens on the floor. General confusion ensued.

  ‘She always throws something on the floor when she loses her temper,’ Uncle whispered in acute embarrassment. ‘But only when she loses her temper … Try not to notice, don’t look, my boy, pretend you haven’t seen … you would have to mention Korovkin! …’

  But I was not looking in any case. Just at that moment I met the governess’s eyes, and could read in them reproach bordering on contempt; a flush of indignation suddenly coloured her pale cheeks. I understood the meaning of this, and realized how little I must have gained in the girl’s estimation through my cowardly and despicable attempt to ridicule Uncle in order to appear less ridiculous myself. I felt too ashamed for words.

  ‘We were talking about St Petersburg, weren’t we?’ Anfisa Petrovna trilled again after the excitement occasioned by the broken cup had subsided somewhat. ‘I have such, as it were, exquisite memories of our life in that most enchanting of capitals … At that time we were on very close terms with a famous family — remember, Paul, mon cher? General Polovitsyn … Ah, what a delightful, what a de-light-ful creature was Madame Polovitsyna! Well, you know, the aristocracy, the beau monde! … I dare say you have met them … I must admit, I was so anxious to see you: I expected to hear such a lot from you about our St Petersburg friends …’

  ‘I’m terribly sorry, I can’t … you must excuse me … I did mention that I’ve moved very little in society, and I’ve no idea who General Polovitsyn is, haven’t even heard of him,’ I replied brusquely, suddenly switching from politeness to extreme exasperation and annoyance.

  ‘He spent all his time studying mineralogy!’ my incorrigible uncle remarked proudly. ‘Study of pebbles and such like, that’s mineralogy, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, Uncle, pebbles …’

  ‘Hm … so many different sciences, and each one of them so useful. But you know, my boy, I really didn’t know what mineralogy was — all Greek to me. In other things I’m so-so, but when it comes to science, I’m nowhere — I admit frankly!’

  ‘At least he admits it,’ Obnoskin hastened to remark with a sneer.

  ‘Papa!’ Sasha exclaimed, looking reproachfully at her father.

  ‘Yes, darling? Oh, I beg your pardon, I keep on interrupting you, Anfisa Petrovna,’ Uncle exclaimed with a start, having completely missed the point of Sasha’s exclamation. ‘Forgive me, for God’s sake!’

  ‘Oh, don’t mention it!’ Anfisa Petrovna replied, puckering her lips in a sour smile. ‘Anyway, I’ve said all I have to say to your nephew, though in conclusion, Monsieur Serge — that is your name, is it not? — I will add that it is absolutely essential for you to mend your ways. I do believe that science, art … sculpture, for example … in short, all these, so to speak, intellectual pursuits, are att-rac-tive in themselves — but they cannot replace ladies! … Women, women, young man, mould you, and life without them is impossible, impossible, young man, im-po-ssible.’

  ‘Impossible, impossible!’ echoed Tatyana Ivanovna in her strident voice. ‘Listen,’ she began again in a sort of childish patter, and, of course, blushing deeply, ‘listen, I want to ask you …’

  ‘At your service!’ I replied, turning to her attentively.

  ‘I meant to ask you: have you come to stay here for long, or not?’

  ‘I really don’t know, as soon as my business …’

  ‘Business! He says he’s here on business! … You madman! …’

  And Tatyana Ivanovna, blushing crimson, hid behind her fan and leaned over towards the governess to whisper something in her ear. Then she suddenly burst out laughing and began to clap her hands.

  ‘Wait, wait!’ she cried, tearing herself away from her confidante and addressing me hastily as if afraid that I would leave her. ‘Listen, you know what I am going to tell you? You remind me most awfully of a young man, of a most charming young man! … Sashenka, Nastenka, remember? Doesn’t he look just like that madman — remember, Sashenka? We met him while we were out driving … he came by on horseback, in a white waistcoat … The way he turned his eye-glass on me, the shameless rascal! Remember, I hid my face behind my veil, but I simply couldn’t restrain myself, I put my head out of the window and cried: “You shameless rascal!” and then I threw my bunch of flowers out on the road … Do you remember all that, Nastenka?’

  And the love-crazed spinster, trembling with excitement, buried her face in her hands; then, suddenly jumping from her seat, darted towards the window, plucked a rose from a flower-pot, threw it at my feet and ran out of the room. This produced some confusion, though the General’s Lady, as before, managed to preserve her equanimity. Anfisa Petrovna, for instance, seemed not so much surprised as suddenly concerned, and she cast an anxious glance at her son; the young ladies blushed, while Paul Obnoskin got up with a show of annoyance, which I could not account for at the time, and stalked over to the window. Uncle began to make signals to me, but at that moment, another person entered the room, drawing everybody’s attention.