‘What? do you make it a principle,’ I asked, ‘never to read books of that sort?’ ‘I have never happened to,’ she answered; ‘I haven’t had time!’ ‘Not time! You surprise me! I should have thought,’ I went on, addressing Priemkov, ‘you would have interested your wife in poetry.’ ‘I should have been delighted----’ Priemkov was beginning, but Vera Nikolaevna interrupted him-- ‘Don’t pretend; you’ve no great love for poetry yourself.’ ‘Poetry; well, no,’ he began; ‘I’m not very fond of it; but novels, now.…’ ‘But what do you do, how do you spend your evenings?’ I queried; ‘do you play cards?’ ‘We sometimes play,’ she answered; ‘but there’s always plenty to do. We read, too; there are good books to read besides poetry.’ ‘Why are you so set against poetry?’ ‘I’m not set against it; I have been used to not reading these invented works from a child. That was my mother’s wish, and the longer I live the more I am convinced that everything my mother did, everything she said, was right, sacredly right.’ ‘Well, as you will, but I can’t agree with you; I am certain you are depriving yourself quite needlessly of the purest, the most legitimate pleasure. Why, you’re not opposed to music and painting, I suppose; why be opposed to poetry?’ ‘I’m not opposed to it; I have never got to know anything of it--that’s all.’ ‘Well, then, I will see to that! Your mother did not, I suppose, wish to prevent your knowing anything of the works of creative, poetic art all your life?’ ‘No; when I was married, my mother removed every restriction; it never occurred to me to read--what did you call them?… well, anyway, to read novels.’ I listened to Vera Nikolaevna in astonishment. I had not expected this. She looked at me with her serene glance. Birds look so when they are not frightened. ‘I’ll bring you a book!’ I cried. (I thought of _Faust_, which I had just been reading.) Vera Nikolaevna gave a gentle sigh. ‘It----it won’t be Georges--Sand?’ she questioned with some timidity. ‘Ah! then you’ve heard of her? Well, if it were, where’s the harm?… No, I’ll bring you another author. You’ve not forgotten German, have you?’ ‘No.’ ‘She speaks it like a German,’ put in Priemkov. ‘Well, that’s splendid! I will bring you--but there, you shall see what a wonderful thing I will bring you.’ ‘Very good, we shall see. But now let us go into the garden, or there’ll be no keeping Natasha still.’