“How are you passing the time, Lubov Yakovlevna?” asked Smolin, arming himself with knife and fork. “She is rather lonesome here with me,” replied Mayakin for his daughter. “My housekeeper, all the household is on her shoulders, so she has no time to amuse herself.” “And no place, I must add,” said Lubov. “I am not fond of the balls and entertainments given by the merchants.” “And the theatre?” asked Smolin. “I seldom go there. I have no one to go with.” “The theatre!” exclaimed the old man. “Tell me, pray, why has it become the fashion then to represent the merchant as a savage idiot? It is very amusing, but it is incomprehensible, because it is false! Am I a fool, if I am master in the City Council, master in commerce, and also owner of that same theatre? You look at the merchant on the stage and you see--he isn’t life-life! Of course, when they present something historical, such as: ‘Life for the Czar,’ with song and dance, or ‘Hamlet,’ ‘The Sorceress,’ or ‘Vasilisa,’ truthful reproduction is not required, because they’re matters of the past and don’t concern us. Whether true or not, it matters little so long as they’re good, but when you represent modern times, then don’t lie! And show the man as he really is.” Smolin listened to the old man’s words with a covetous smile on his lips, and cast at Lubov glances which seemed to invite her to refute her father. Somewhat embarrassed, she said: “And yet, papa, the majority of the merchant class is uneducated and savage.” “Yes,” remarked Smolin with regret, nodding his head affirmatively, “that is the sad truth.” “Take Foma, for instance,” went on the girl. “Oh!” exclaimed Mayakin. “Well, you are young folks, you can have books in your hands.” “And do you not take interest in any of the societies?” Smolin asked Lubov. “You have so many different societies here.” “Yes,” said Lubov with a sigh, “but I live rather apart from everything.” “Housekeeping!” interposed the father. “We have here such a store of different things, everything has to be kept clean, in order, and complete as to number.” With a self-satisfied air he nodded first at the table, which was set with brilliant crystal and silverware, and then at the sideboard, whose shelves were fairly breaking under the weight of the articles, and which reminded one of the display in a store window. Smolin noted all these and an ironical smile began to play upon his lips. Then he glanced at Lubov’s face: in his look she caught something friendly, sympathetic to her. A faint flush covered her cheeks, and she said to herself with timid joy: “Thank God!” The light of the heavy bronze lamp now seemed to flash more brilliantly on the sides of the crystal vases, and it became brighter in the room.