an away into the
shrubbery. (This shrubbery was a well-known haven of refuge for culprits
at Otradnoe. Mitenka himself, returning tipsy from the town, used to
hide there, and many of the residents at Otradnoe, hiding from Mitenka,
knew of its protective qualities.)

Mitenka's wife and sisters-in-law thrust their heads and frightened
faces out of the door of a room where a bright samovar was boiling and
where the steward's high bedstead stood with its patchwork quilt.

The young count paid no heed to them, but, breathing hard, passed by
with resolute strides and went into the house.

The countess, who heard at once from the maids what had happened at the
lodge, was calmed by the thought that now their affairs would certainly
improve, but on the other hand felt anxious as to the effect this
excitement might have on her son. She went several times to his door on
tiptoe and listened, as he lighted one pipe after another.

Next day the old count called his son aside and, with an embarrassed
smile, said to him:

"But you know, my dear boy, it's a pity you got excited! Mitenka has
told me all about it."

"I knew," thought Nicholas, "that I should never understand anything in
this crazy world."

"You were angry that he had not entered those 700 rubles. But they were
carried forward--and you did not look at the other page."

"Papa, he is a blackguard and a thief! I know he is! And what I have
done, I have done; but, if you like, I won't speak to him again."

"No, my dear boy" (the count, too, felt embarrassed. He knew he had
mismanaged his wife's property and was to blame toward his children,
but he did not know how to remedy it). "No, I beg you to attend to the
business. I am old. I..."

"No, Papa. Forgive me if I have caused you unpleasantness. I understand
it all less than you do."

"Devil take all these peasants, and money matters, and carryings forward
from page to page," he thought. "I used to understand what a 'corner'
and the stakes at cards meant, but carrying forward to another page I
don't understand at all," said he to himself, and after that he did not
meddle in business affairs. But once the countess called her son and
informed him that she had a promissory note from Anna Mikhaylovna for
two thousand rubles, and asked him what he thought of doing with it.

"This," answered Nicholas. "You say it rests with me. Well, I don't like
Anna Mikhaylovna and I don't like Boris, but they were our friends and
po