all sorts of
stupid people. Up to the last minute I was afraid of what other
people would say, but as soon as I followed my own instinct and
made up my mind to go my own way, my eyes were opened, I overcame
my silly fears, and now I am happy and wish every one could be as
happy!"

But her thoughts immediately took another turn, and she began talking
of another flat, of wallpapers, horses, a trip to Switzerland and
Italy. Orlov was tired by the restaurants and the shops, and was
still suffering from the same uneasiness that I had noticed in the
morning. He smiled, but more from politeness than pleasure, and
when she spoke of anything seriously, he agreed ironically: "Oh,
yes."

"Stepan, make haste and find us a good cook," she said to me.

"There's no need to be in a hurry over the kitchen arrangements,"
said Orlov, looking at me coldly. "We must first move into another
flat."

We had never had cooking done at home nor kept horses, because, as
he said, "he did not like disorder about him," and only put up with
having Polya and me in his flat from necessity. The so-called
domestic hearth with its everyday joys and its petty cares offended
his taste as vulgarity; to be with child, or to have children and
talk about them, was bad form, like a petty bourgeois. And I began
to feel very curious to see how these two creatures would get on
together in one flat--she, domestic and home-loving with her
copper saucepans and her dreams of a good cook and horses; and he,
fond of saying to his friends that a decent and orderly man's flat
ought, like a warship, to have nothing in it superfluous--no
women, no children, no rags, no kitchen utensils.

V

Then I will tell you what happened the following Thursday. That day
Zinaida Fyodorovna dined at Content's or Donon's. Orlov returned
home alone, and Zinaida Fyodorovna, as I learnt afterwards, went
to the Petersburg Side to spend with her old governess the time
visitors were with us. Orlov did not care to show her to his friends.
I realised that at breakfast, when he began assuring her that for
the sake of her peace of mind it was essential to give up his
Thursday evenings.

As usual the visitors arrived at almost the same time.

"Is your mistress at home, too?" Kukushkin asked me in a whisper.

"No, sir," I answered.

He went in with a sly, oily look in his eyes, smiling mysteriously,
rubbing his hands, which were cold from the frost.

"I have the honour to congratulate