the women in their dances. In his youth, it was said, he had sung
rollickingly and danced with agility. He loved to steam himself in the
bath,--and steamed himself so energetically that Irinarkh, who served
him as bath-attendant, thrashed him with a birch-besom soaked in beer,
rubbed him down with shredded linden bark,[40] then with a bit of
woollen cloth, rolled a soap bladder over his master's shoulders,--this
faithfully-devoted Irinarkh was accustomed to say every time, as he
climbed down from the shelf as red as "a new brass statue": "Well, for
this time I, the servant of God, Irinarkh Tolobyeeff, am still whole....
What will happen next time?"

And Alexyei Sergyeitch spoke splendid Russian, somewhat old-fashioned,
but piquant and pure as spring water, constantly interspersing his
speech with his pet words: "honour bright," "God have mercy," "at any
rate," "sir," and "little sir."...

Enough concerning him, however. Let us talk about Alexyei Sergyeitch's
spouse, Malanya Pavlovna.

Malanya Pavlovna was a native of Moscow, and had been accounted the
greatest beauty in town, _la Venus de Moscou_.--When I knew her she was
already a gaunt old woman, with delicate but insignificant features,
little curved hare-like teeth in a tiny little mouth, with a multitude
of tight little curls on her forehead, and dyed eyebrows. She constantly
wore a pyramidal cap with rose-coloured ribbons, a high ruff around her
neck, a short white gown and prunella shoes with red heels; and over her
gown she wore a jacket of blue satin, with the sleeve depending from
the right shoulder. She had worn precisely such a toilet on St. Peter's
day, 1789! On that day, being still a maiden, she had gone with her
relatives to the Khodynskoe Field,[41] to see the famous prize-fight
arranged by the Orloffs.

"And Count Alexyei Grigorievitch ..." (oh, how many times did I hear
that tale!), ... "having descried me, approached, made a low obeisance,
holding his hat in both hands, and spake thus: 'My stunning beauty, why
dost thou allow that sleeve to hang from thy shoulder? Is it that thou
wishest to have a match at fisticuffs with me?... With pleasure; only I
tell thee beforehand that thou hast vanquished me--I surrender!--and I
am thy captive!'--and every one stared at us and marvelled."

And so she had worn that style of toilet ever since.

"Only, I wore no cap then, but a hat _a la bergere de Trianon_; and
although I was powdered, yet my hair gleamed