them right or not. But they are
suffering. You are a Christian, and believe in the Gospel, and yet are
so pitiless."

"That has nothing to do with it. The Gospel is one thing; what I
dislike is another thing. It would be worse if I pretended to like the
Nihilists, especially the female Nihilists, when as a matter of fact I
hate them."

"Why do you hate them?"

"Why do they meddle in other people's affairs? It is not a woman's
business."

"But you have nothing against Mariette occupying herself with
business," said Nekhludoff.

"Mariette? Mariette is Mariette, but who is she? A conceited ignoramus
who wants to teach everybody."

"They do not wish to teach; they only wish to help the people."

"We know without them who should and who should not be helped."

"But the people are impoverished. I have just been in the country. Is
it proper that peasants should overwork themselves without getting
enough to eat, while we are living in such wasteful luxury?"

"What do you wish me to do? You would like to see me work and not eat
anything?"

"No, I do not wish you not to eat," smiling involuntarily, answered
Nekhludoff. "I only wish that we should all work, and all have enough
to eat."

The aunt again raised her eyebrows and gazed at him with curiosity.

"Mon cher, vous finirez mal," she said.

At that moment a tall, broad-shouldered general entered the room. It
was Countess Charskaia's husband, a retired Minister of State.

"Ah, Dmitri, how do you do?" he said, putting out his clean-shaven
cheek. "When did you get here?"

He silently kissed his wife on the forehead.

"Non, il est impayable." Countess Catherine Ivanovna turned to her
husband. "He wants me to do washing on the river and feast on
potatoes. He is an awful fool, but, nevertheless, do for him what he
asks. An awful crank," she corrected herself. "By the way, they say
that Kamenskaia is in a desperate condition; her life is despaired
of," she turned to her husband. "You ought to visit her."

"Yes, it is awful," said the husband.

"Go, now, and have a talk together; I must write some letters."

Nekhludoff had just reached the room next to the reception-room when
she shouted after him:

"Shall I write then to Mariette?"

"If you please, ma tante."

"I will learn that which you want to say about the short-haired en
blanc, and she will have her husband attend to it. Don't think that I
am angry. They are hateful, your protegees, but--je ne leur