s from your noble sentiments. But that I should feel agitated, is not
wonderful: I am a woman and a mother. And your wife ... of course, I
cannot judge between her and you--I told her so myself; but she is such
an amiable lady, that she cannot cause anything but pleasure."

Lavretzky laughed, and played with his hat.

"And this is what I wished to say to you, Feodor Ivanitch,"--went on
Marya Dmitrievna, moving a little nearer to him:--"if you had only seen
how modestly, how respectfully she behaves!--Really, it is touching. But
if you had heard how she speaks of you! 'I am wholly culpable with regard
to him,' she says; 'I did not know how to appreciate him,' she says; 'he
is an angel,' she says, 'not a man.' Truly, she did say that, 'an angel.'
She is so penitent.... I never beheld such penitence, I give you my
word!"

"Well, Marya Dmitrievna,"--said Lavretzky:--"permit me to ask you a
question: I am told that Varvara Pavlovna has been singing for you; did
she sing during her repentance--or how?"...

"Akh, aren't you ashamed to talk like that! She sang and played merely
with the object of giving me pleasure, because I begged, almost commanded
her to do so. I perceive that she is distressed--so distressed, I wonder
how I can divert her. And I had heard that she had such a fine
talent.--Upon my word, Feodor Ivanitch, she is a completely crushed,
overwhelmed woman--ask Sergyei Petrovitch if she is not, _tout a
fait_,--what have you to say to that?"

Lavretzky simply shrugged his shoulders.

"And then, what a little angel that Ada of your is, what a darling!--How
pretty she is, how clever! how well she talks French; and she understands
Russian--she called me _tyotenka_ [aunty]. And do you know, as for being
shy, like nearly all children of her age,--there is no shyness about her.
She is awfully like you, Feodor Ivanitch. Her eyes, her brows ... well,
she's you all over again, your perfect image. I am not very fond of such
small children, I must confess; but I have simply lost my heart to your
little daughter."

"Marya Dmitrievna,"--exclaimed Lavretzky, suddenly:--"allow me to ask
you why you are pleased to say all this to me?"

"Why?"--again Marya Dmitrievna sniffed at her eau de Cologne, and sipped
her water:--"I say it, Feodor Ivanitch, because ... you see, I am a
relative, I take the closest interest in you.... I know that you have the
very kindest of hearts. Hearken to me, _mon cousin_,--I am a woman of
experie