Veriga smiled amiably and did not sit down, giving Peredonov to understand that the interview was closed. As he finished his speech he suddenly realised that what he had said was out of place and that Peredonov was nothing but a timorous place-seeker, knocking at doors in his search for patronage. As the footman in the hall helped him on with his coat he heard the sounds of a piano in a distant room. Peredonov thought that in this house lived people of great self-esteem whose manner of life was really seigneurial. "He has a Governorship in view," thought Peredonov with a feeling of respectful and envious astonishment. On the stairs he met two of the Marshal's boys returning from a walk with their tutor. Peredonov looked at them with morose curiosity. "How clean they are!" he thought. "There's not a speck of dirt even in their ears. How alive they are, and they're trained to hold themselves straight as a taut fiddle-string. And they're never even whipped, if you please," thought Peredonov. And he looked angrily after them as they ran up the stairs, chattering gaily. It astonished Peredonov that the tutor treated them as equals--he did not frown at them nor did he scold them. * * * * * When Peredonov returned home he found Varvara in the drawing-room with a book in her hands, which was a rare occurrence. Varvara was reading a cookery book, the only one she had, and which she sometimes looked into. The book was old, ragged and had black binding. The binding caught Peredonov's eye, and it depressed him. "What are you reading, Varvara?" he asked angrily. "What? Can't you see? A cookery book," replied Varvara. "I haven't time to read nonsense." "Why a cookery book?" asked Peredonov in fright. "What do you mean, why? I want to find some new dishes for you--you're always grumbling about the food," said Varvara with a sort of sarcastic self-satisfaction. "I won't eat from a black book," announced Peredonov decisively, and quickly tore the book from Varvara's hands and took it into the bedroom. "A black book! The idea of preparing dinners from it!" The thought filled him with fear. It had come to that: he was to be ruined openly with black magic! "I must destroy this awful book," he thought, and paid no attention to Varvara's grumbling. * * * * * On Friday Peredonov went to see the President of the District Landlords' Board.