ed, as a rule, abroad, and was
noted as a good teller of stories. Then came a few guests belonging to
a lower stratum of society--people who, like the Epanchins themselves,
moved only occasionally in this exalted sphere. The Epanchins liked to
draft among their more elevated guests a few picked representatives of
this lower stratum, and Lizabetha Prokofievna received much praise for
this practice, which proved, her friends said, that she was a woman of
tact. The Epanchins prided themselves upon the good opinion people held
of them.

One of the representatives of the middle-class present today was a
colonel of engineers, a very serious man and a great friend of Prince
S., who had introduced him to the Epanchins. He was extremely silent in
society, and displayed on the forefinger of his right hand a large ring,
probably bestowed upon him for services of some sort. There was also
a poet, German by name, but a Russian poet; very presentable, and even
handsome-the sort of man one could bring into society with impunity.
This gentleman belonged to a German family of decidedly bourgeois
origin, but he had a knack of acquiring the patronage of "big-wigs," and
of retaining their favour. He had translated some great German poem into
Russian verse, and claimed to have been a friend of a famous Russian
poet, since dead. (It is strange how great a multitude of literary
people there are who have had the advantages of friendship with some
great man of their own profession who is, unfortunately, dead.) The
dignitary's wife had introduced this worthy to the Epanchins. This
lady posed as the patroness of literary people, and she certainly
had succeeded in obtaining pensions for a few of them, thanks to her
influence with those in authority on such matters. She was a lady of
weight in her own way. Her age was about forty-five, so that she was a
very young wife for such an elderly husband as the dignitary. She had
been a beauty in her day and still loved, as many ladies of forty-five
do love, to dress a little too smartly. Her intellect was nothing to
boast of, and her literary knowledge very doubtful. Literary patronage
was, however, with her as much a mania as was the love of gorgeous
clothes. Many books and translations were dedicated to her by her
proteges, and a few of these talented individuals had published some of
their own letters to her, upon very weighty subjects.

This, then, was the society that the prince accepted at once as