“She is always like that,” sighed Leonti. “On feast days the tradesmen come with presents, and on the eve of the examinations the parents. I send them away, but my wife receives them at the side door. She looks like Lucretia, but she has a sweet tooth, a dainty one.” Raisky laughed, but Juliana Andreevna was annoyed. “Go to your Lucretia,” she said indifferently. “He compares me with everybody. One day I am Cleopatra, then Lavinia, then Cornelia. Better take the books when they are offered you. Boris Pavlovich will give them to me.” “Don’t take it on yourself to ask him for gifts,” commanded Leonti. “And what can we give him? Shall I hand you over to him, for instance?” he added as he embraced her. “Splendid! Take me, Boris Pavlovich,” she cried, throwing a sparkling glance at him. “If you don’t take the books, Leonti,” said Raisky, “I will make them over to the Gymnasium. Give me the catalogue, and I’ll send it to the Director to-morrow.” He put his hand out for the catalogue, of which Leonti kept a tight hold. “The Gymnasium shall never get one of them,” he cried. “You don’t know the Director, who cares for books just about as much as I do for perfume and pomade. They will be destroyed, torn, and worse handled than by Mark.” “Then take them.” “To give away such treasures all in a minute. It would be comprehensible if you were selling them to responsible hands. I have never wanted so much to be rich. I would give five thousand. I cannot accept, I cannot. You are a spendthrift, or rather a blind, ignorant child--” “Many thanks.” “I didn’t mean that,” cried Leonti in confusion. “You are an artist; you need pictures, statues, music; and books are nothing to you. Besides, you don’t know what treasures you possess; after dinner I will show you.” “Well, in the afternoon, instead of drinking coffee, you will go over with the books to the Gymnasium for me.” “Wait, Boris, what was the condition on which you would give me the books. Will you take instalments from my salary for them? I would sell all I have, pledge myself and my wife.” “No, thank you,” broke in Juliana Andreevna, “I can pledge or sell myself if I want to.” Leonti and Raisky looked at one another. “She does not think before she speaks,” said Leonti. “But tell me what the condition is.” “That you never mention these books to me again, even if Mark tears them to pieces.” “Do you mean I am not to let him have access to them?” “He is not likely to ask you,” put in Juliana Andreevna. “As if that monster cared for what you may say.” “How Ulinka loves me,” said Leonti to Raisky. “Would that every woman loved her husband like that.” He embraced her. She dropped her eyes, and the smile died from her face.