nothing, and then prayed again; he could not
bear to be left alone for a single moment, and demanded from the members
of his household, that they should sit uninterruptedly, day and night,
beside his arm-chair, and amuse him with stories, which he incessantly
interrupted with the exclamation: "You are inventing the whole of
it--what trash!"

Glafira Petrovna had a particularly hard time; he positively could not
get along without her--and to the end she complied with all the invalid's
whims, although sometimes she could not make up her mind on the instant
to answer him, lest the sound of her voice should betray her inward
wrath. In this manner he lingered on two years, and died in the beginning
of May, when he had been carried out upon the balcony, in the sunshine.
"Glashka, Glashka! the bouillon, the bouillon, you old foo ..." lisped
his stiffening tongue, and without finishing the last word, it became
silent forever. Glafira Petrovna, who had just snatched the cup of
bouillon from the hands of the butler, stopped short, stared her brother
in the face, crossed herself slowly and broadly, and withdrew in silence;
and his son, who was present, said nothing, either, but leaned against
the railing of the balcony, and gazed for a long time into the garden,
all fragrant and verdant, all glittering in the rays of the golden sun of
spring. He was twenty-three years old; how terribly, how imperceptibly
fast those three and twenty years had sped past!... Life was opening
before him.

-----

[5] At the accession to the throne of Nicholas I.--Translator.

XII

After having buried his father, and entrusted to the immutable Glafira
Petrovna the management of the farming and the oversight over the
clerks, young Lavretzky betook himself to Moscow, whither he was drawn
by an obscure but powerful sentiment. He recognised the defects of his
education, and intended to repair omissions, so far as possible. During
the last five years, he had read a great deal, and had seen some things;
many thoughts had been seething in his brain; any professor might have
envied him some of his knowledge, but, at the same time, he did not know
much with which every gymnasium lad has long been familiar. The
Anglomaniac had played his son an evil trick; his whimsical education had
borne its fruits. For long years, he had abased himself before his father
without a question; but when, at last, he had divined him