"Who is without sin, aunty? Of course, he has that weakness. Sergyei Petrovitch received no education,--of course he does not speak French; but, say what you will, he is an agreeable man." "Yes, he's always licking thy hand. He doesn't talk French,--what a calamity! I'm not strong on the French 'dialect' myself. 'T would be better if he did not speak any language at all: then he wouldn't lie. But there he is, by the way--speak of the devil,--" added Marfa Timofeevna, glancing into the street.--"There he strides, thine agreeable man. What a long-legged fellow, just like a stork." Marya Dmitrievna adjusted her curls. Marfa Timofeevna watched her with a grin. "Hast thou not a grey hair there, my mother? Thou shouldst scold thy Palashka. Why doesn't she see it?" "Oh, aunty, you're always so...." muttered Marya Dmitrievna, with vexation, and drummed on the arm of her chair with her fingers. "Sergyei Petrovitch Gedeonovsky!" squeaked a red-cheeked page-lad, springing in through the door. II There entered a man of lofty stature, in a neat coat, short trousers, grey chamois-skin gloves, and two neckties--one black, on top, and the other white, underneath. Everything about him exhaled decorum and propriety, beginning with his good-looking face and smoothly brushed temple-curls, and ending with his boots, which had neither heels nor squeak. He bowed first to the mistress of the house, then to Marfa Timofeevna, and slowly drawing off his gloves, took Marya Dmitrievna's hand. After kissing it twice in succession, with respect, he seated himself, without haste, in an arm-chair, and said with a smile, as he rubbed the very tips of his fingers: "And is Elizaveta Mikhailovna well?" "Yes,"--replied Marya Dmitrievna,--"she is in the garden." "And Elena Mikhailovna?" "Lyenotchka is in the garden also. Is there anything new?" "How could there fail to be, ma'am, how could there fail to be,"--returned the visitor, slowly blinking his eyes, and protruding his lips. "Hm! ... now, here's a bit of news, if you please, and a very astounding bit: Lavretzky, Feodor Ivanitch, has arrived." "Fedya?"--exclaimed Marfa Timofeevna.--"But come now, my father, art not thou inventing that?" "Not in the least, ma'am, I saw him myself." "Well, that's no proof." "He has recovered his health finely,"--went on Gedeonovsky, pretending not to hear Marfa Timofeevna's remark:--"he has grown broader in the shoulders, and the rosy colour covers the whole of his cheeks." "He has recovered his health,"--ejaculated Marya Dmitrievna, with pauses:--"that means, that he had something to recover from?" "Yes, ma'am,"--returned Gedeonovsky:--"Any other man, in his place, would have been ashamed to show himself in the world." "Why so?"--interrupted Marfa Timofeevna;--"what nonsense is this? A man returns to his native place--what would you have him do with himself? And as if he were in any way to blame!"