es of the
box was visible an elderly man in a wide frock-coat and high cravat,
with an expression of dull dignity and a kind of ingratiating
distrustfulness in his little eyes, with dyed moustache and whiskers, a
large meaningless forehead and wrinkled cheeks, by every sign a retired
general. Lavretsky did not take his eyes off the girl who had made
such an impression on him; suddenly the door of the box opened and
Mihalevitch went in. The appearance of this man, almost his one
acquaintance in Moscow, in the society of the one girl who was absorbing
his whole attention, struck him as curious and significant. Continuing
to gaze into the box, he observed that all the persons in it treated
Mihalevitch as an old friend. The performance on the stage ceased to
interest Lavretsky, even Motchalov, though he was that evening in his
"best form," did not produce the usual impression on him. At one very
pathetic part, Lavretsky involuntarily looked at his beauty: she
was bending forward, her cheeks glowing under the influence of his
persistent gaze, her eyes, which were fixed on the stage, slowly
turned and rested on him. All night he was! haunted by those eyes. The
skillfully constructed barriers were broken down at last; he was in a
shiver and a fever, and the next day he went to Mihalevitch. From him he
learnt that the name of the beauty was Varvara Pavlovna Korobyin; that
the old people sitting with her in the box were her father and mother;
and that he, Mihalevitch, had become acquainted with them a year before,
while he was staying at Count N.'s, in the position of a tutor, near
Moscow. The enthusiast spoke in rapturous praise of Varvara Pavlovna.
"My dear fellow," he exclaimed with the impetuous ring in his voice
peculiar to him, "that girl is a marvelous creature, a genius, an artist
in the true sense of the word, and she is very good too." Noticing from
Lavretsky's inquiries the impression Varvara Pavlovna had made on him,
he himself proposed to introduce him to her, adding that he was like one
of the family with them; that the general was not at all proud, and
the mother was so stupid she could not say "Bo" to a goose. Lavretsky
blushed, muttered something unintelligible, and ran away. For five whole
days he was struggling with his timidity; on the sixth day the young
Spartan got into a new uniform and placed himself at Mihalevitch's
disposal. The latter being his own valet, confined himself to combing
his hair--and both b