to the yard, and brought to a standstill at the door;
then the coffin was swung backwards and forwards on a sheet, and
dashed violently against the door. Yulia woke and jumped up in
alarm. There really was a bang at the door, and the wire of the
bell rustled against the wall, though no ring was to be heard.

The doctor coughed. Then she heard the servant go downstairs, and
then come back.

"Madam!" she said, and knocked at the door. "Madam!"

"What is it?" said Yulia.

"A telegram for you!"

Yulia went out to her with a candle. Behind the servant stood the
doctor, in his night-clothes and greatcoat, and he, too, had a
candle in his hand. "Our bell is broken," he said, yawning sleepily.
"It ought to have been mended long ago."

Yulia broke open the telegram and read:

"We drink to your health.--YARTSEV, KOTCHEVOY."

"Ah, what idiots!" she said, and burst out laughing; and her heart
felt light and gay.

Going back into her room, she quietly washed and dressed, then she
spent a long time in packing her things, until it was daylight, and
at midday she set off for Moscow.

XII

In Holy Week the Laptevs went to an exhibition of pictures in the
school of painting. The whole family went together in the Moscow
fashion, the little girls, the governess, Kostya, and all.

Laptev knew the names of all the well-known painters, and never
missed an exhibition. He used sometimes to paint little landscape
paintings when he was in the country in the summer, and he fancied
he had a good deal of taste, and that if he had studied he might
have made a good painter. When he was abroad he sometimes used to
go to curio shops, examining the antiques with the air of a connoisseur
and giving his opinion on them. When he bought any article he gave
just what the shopkeeper liked to ask for it and his purchase
remained afterwards in a box in the coach-house till it disappeared
altogether. Or going into a print shop, he would slowly and attentively
examine the engravings and the bronzes, making various remarks on
them, and would buy a common frame or a box of wretched prints. At
home he had pictures always of large dimensions but of inferior
quality; the best among them were badly hung. It had happened to
him more than once to pay large sums for things which had afterwards
turned out to be forgeries of the grossest kind. And it was remarkable
that, though as a rule timid in the affairs of life, he was exceedingly
bold and self-confiden