th him."

"Ha, ha, ha!" cried Marya Konstantinovna, with a forced laugh;
"that's quite enchanting."

Free from her clothes, Nadyezhda Fyodorovna felt a desire to fly.
And it seemed to her that if she were to wave her hands she would
fly upwards. When she was undressed, she noticed that Olga looked
scornfully at her white body. Olga, a young soldier's wife, was
living with her lawful husband, and so considered herself superior
to her mistress. Marya Konstantinovna and Katya were afraid of her,
and did not respect her. This was disagreeable, and to raise herself
in their opinion, Nadyezhda Fyodorovna said:

"At home, in Petersburg, summer villa life is at its height now.
My husband and I have so many friends! We ought to go and see them."

"I believe your husband is an engineer?" said Marya Konstantinovna
timidly.

"I am speaking of Laevsky. He has a great many acquaintances. But
unfortunately his mother is a proud aristocrat, not very
intelligent. . . ."

Nadyezhda Fyodorovna threw herself into the water without finishing;
Marya Konstantinovna and Katya made their way in after her.

"There are so many conventional ideas in the world," Nadyezhda
Fyodorovna went on, "and life is not so easy as it seems."

Marya Konstantinovna, who had been a governess in aristocratic
families and who was an authority on social matters, said:

"Oh yes! Would you believe me, my dear, at the Garatynskys' I was
expected to dress for lunch as well as for dinner, so that, like
an actress, I received a special allowance for my wardrobe in
addition to my salary."

She stood between Nadyezhda Fyodorovna and Katya as though to screen
her daughter from the water that washed the former.

Through the open doors looking out to the sea they could see some
one swimming a hundred paces from their bathing-place.

"Mother, it's our Kostya," said Katya.

"Ach, ach!" Marya Konstantinovna cackled in her dismay. "Ach,
Kostya!" she shouted, "Come back! Kostya, come back!"

Kostya, a boy of fourteen, to show off his prowess before his mother
and sister, dived and swam farther, but began to be exhausted and
hurried back, and from his strained and serious face it could be
seen that he could not trust his own strength.

"The trouble one has with these boys, my dear!" said Marya
Konstantinovna, growing calmer. "Before you can turn round, he will
break his neck. Ah, my dear, how sweet it is, and yet at the same
time how difficult, to be a mother! On