Historical fiction; Russia -- Social conditions -- 1801-1917 -- Fiction
Her acquaintances invited her to their “At Homes” because she was so
decorative. She was exhibited to their guests like a valuable picture,
or vase, or statue, or firescreen. As for the men, Ptitsin was one of
Rogojin’s friends; Ferdishenko was as much at home as a fish in the
sea, Gania, not yet recovered from his amazement, appeared to be
chained to a pillory. The old professor did not in the least understand
what was happening; but when he noticed how extremely agitated the
mistress of the house, and her friends, seemed, he nearly wept, and
trembled with fright: but he would rather have died than leave Nastasia
Philipovna at such a crisis, for he loved her as if she were his own
granddaughter. Afanasy Ivanovitch greatly disliked having anything to
do with the affair, but he was too much interested to leave, in spite
of the mad turn things had taken; and a few words that had dropped from
the lips of Nastasia puzzled him so much, that he felt he could not go
without an explanation. He resolved therefore, to see it out, and to
adopt the attitude of silent spectator, as most suited to his dignity.
General Epanchin alone determined to depart. He was annoyed at the
manner in which his gift had been returned, as though he had
condescended, under the influence of passion, to place himself on a
level with Ptitsin and Ferdishenko, his self-respect and sense of duty
now returned together with a consciousness of what was due to his
social rank and official importance. In short, he plainly showed his
conviction that a man in his position could have nothing to do with
Rogojin and his companions. But Nastasia interrupted him at his first
words.
“Ah, general!” she cried, “I was forgetting! If I had only foreseen
this unpleasantness! I won’t insist on keeping you against your will,
although I should have liked you to be beside me now. In any case, I am
most grateful to you for your visit, and flattering attention... but if
you are afraid...”
“Excuse me, Nastasia Philipovna,” interrupted the general, with
chivalric generosity. “To whom are you speaking? I have remained until
now simply because of my devotion to you, and as for danger, I am only
afraid that the carpets may be ruined, and the furniture smashed!...
You should shut the door on the lot, in my opinion. But I confess that
I am extremely curious to see how it ends.”
“Rogojin!” announced Ferdishenko.
“What do you think about it?” said the general in a low voice to
Totski. “Is she mad? I mean mad in the medical sense of the word ....
eh?”
“I’ve always said she was predisposed to it,” whispered Afanasy
Ivanovitch slyly. “Perhaps it is a fever!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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