ove with her timid walk, her shy
answers, her soft voice, her gentle smile; with every passing day she
seemed to him more charming. And she became attached to Ivan Petrovitch
with her whole soul, as only Russian girls can become attached--and gave
herself to him.

In the country manor-house of a landed proprietor, no secret can be kept
long: every one soon knew of the bond between the young master and
Malanya; the tidings of this connection at last reached Piotr
Andreitch himself. At any other time, he would, in all probability, have
paid no heed to such an insignificant matter; but he had long been in a
rage with his son, and rejoiced at the opportunity to put to shame the
Petersburg philosopher and dandy. Tumult, shrieks, and uproar arose:
Malanya was locked up in the lumber-room; Ivan Petrovitch was summoned
to his parent. Anna Pavlovna also hastened up at the outcry. She made an
effort to pacify her husband, but Piotr Andreitch no longer listened to
anything. Like a vulture he pounced upon his son, upbraided him with
immorality, with impiety, with hypocrisy; incidentally, he vented on him
all his accumulated wrath against the Princess Kubenskoy, and
overwhelmed him with insulting epithets. At first, Ivan Petrovitch held
his peace, and stood firm, but when his father took it into his head to
threaten him with a disgraceful chastisement, he lost patience. "The
fanatic Diderot has come on the stage again," he thought,--"so just wait,
I'll put him in action; I'll astonish you all."

Thereupon, in a quiet voice, although trembling in every limb, Ivan
Petrovitch announced to his father, that there was no necessity for
upbraiding him with immorality, that, although he did not intend to
justify his fault, yet he was ready to rectify it, and that the more
willingly because he felt himself superior to all prejudices--in short,
he was ready to marry Malanya. By uttering these words, Ivan
Petrovitch did, undoubtedly, attain his object: he astounded Piotr
Andreitch to such a degree, that the latter stared with all his eyes,
and was rendered dumb for a moment; but he immediately recovered himself,
and just as he was, clad in a short coat lined with squirrel-skin, and
with slippers on his bare feet, he flung himself with clenched fists upon
Ivan Petrovitch, who that day, as though expressly, had his hair
dressed _a la Titus_, and had donned a new blue English dress-coat,
boots with tassels, and dandified chamois trousers, skin-ti