mile, as he
rubbed the very tips of his fingers:

"And is Elizaveta Mikhailovna well?"

"Yes,"--replied Marya Dmitrievna,--"she is in the garden."

"And Elena Mikhailovna?"

"Lyenotchka is in the garden also. Is there anything new?"

"How could there fail to be, ma'am, how could there fail to be,"--returned
the visitor, slowly blinking his eyes, and protruding his lips. "Hm! ...
now, here's a bit of news, if you please, and a very astounding bit:
Lavretzky, Feodor Ivanitch, has arrived."

"Fedya?"--exclaimed Marfa Timofeevna.--"But come now, my father, art
not thou inventing that?"

"Not in the least, ma'am, I saw him myself."

"Well, that's no proof."

"He has recovered his health finely,"--went on Gedeonovsky, pretending
not to hear Marfa Timofeevna's remark:--"he has grown broader in the
shoulders, and the rosy colour covers the whole of his cheeks."

"He has recovered his health,"--ejaculated Marya Dmitrievna, with
pauses:--"that means, that he had something to recover from?"

"Yes, ma'am,"--returned Gedeonovsky:--"Any other man, in his place,
would have been ashamed to show himself in the world."

"Why so?"--interrupted Marfa Timofeevna;--"what nonsense is this? A man
returns to his native place--what would you have him do with himself? And
as if he were in any way to blame!"

"The husband is always to blame, madam, I venture to assure you, when the
wife behaves badly."

"Thou sayest that, my good sir, because thou hast never been married
thyself." Gedeonovsky smiled in a constrained way.

"Permit me to inquire," he asked, after a brief pause,--"for whom is that
very pretty scarf destined?"

Marfa Timofeevna cast a swift glance at him.

"It is destined"--she retorted,--"for the man who never gossips, nor uses
craft, nor lies, if such a man exists in the world. I know Fedya well;
his sole fault is, that he was too indulgent to his wife. Well, he married
for love, and nothing good ever comes of those love-marriages,"--added the
old woman, casting a sidelong glance at Marya Dmitrievna, and
rising.--"And now, dear little father, thou mayest whet thy teeth on
whomsoever thou wilt, only not on me; I'm going away, I won't
interfere."--And Marfa Timofeevna withdrew.

"There, she is always like that,"--said Marya Dmitrievna, following her
aunt with her eyes:--"Always!"

"It's her age! There's no help for it, ma'am!" remarked
Gedeonovsky.--"There now, she permitted herself to say: 'the man who
does n