ch Stahov, captured
her heart at one of these balls when she was arrayed in a charming
rose-coloured gown, with a wreath of tiny roses. She had treasured
that wreath all her life. Nikolai Artemyevitch Stahov was the son of
a retired captain, who had been wounded in 1812, and had received a
lucrative post in Petersburg. Nikolai Artemyevitch entered the School
of Cadets at sixteen, and left to go into the Guards. He was a handsome,
well-made fellow, and reckoned almost the most dashing beau at evening
parties of the middling sort, which were those he frequented for the
most part; he had not gained a footing in the best society. From his
youth he had been absorbed by two ideals: to get into the Imperial
adjutants, and to make a good marriage; the first ideal he soon
discarded, but he clung all the more closely to the second, and it
was with that object that he went every winter to Moscow. Nikolai
Artemyevitch spoke French fairly, and passed for being a philosopher,
because he was not a rake. Even while he was no more than an ensign, he
was given to discussing, persistently, such questions as whether it is
possible for a man to visit the whole of the globe in the course of
his whole lifetime, whether it is possible for a man to know what is
happening at the bottom of the sea; and he always maintained the view
that these things were impossible.

Nikolai Artemyevitch was twenty-five years old when he 'hooked' Anna
Vassilyevna; he retired from the service and went into the country
to manage the property. He was soon tired of country life, and as the
peasants' labour was all commuted for rent he could easily leave the
estate; he settled in Moscow in his wife's house. In his youth he had
played no games of any kind, but now he developed a passion for loto,
and, when loto was prohibited, for whist. At home he was bored; he
formed a connection with a widow of German extraction, and spent almost
all his time with her. In the year 1853 he had not moved to Kuntsovo; he
stopped at Moscow, ostensibly to take advantage of the mineral waters;
in reality, he did not want to part from his widow. He did not, however,
have much conversation with her, but argued more than ever as to whether
one can foretell the weather and such questions. Some one had once
called him a _frondeur_; he was greatly delighted with that name. 'Yes,'
he thought, letting the corners of his mouth drop complacently and
shaking his head, 'I am not easily satisfied; you