first and bowed politely. Alexandr replied by a stiff and awkward bow. Their hostess introduced them. The Count, for some reason, did not please him, but he was a handsome man— tall, well-made, fair, with large expressive eyes, and a pleasant smile. His manners were marked by simplicity, refinement, and a kind of softness. He seemed likely to attract everyone, but he did not attract Adouev.
Alexandr, in spite of Maria Mihalovna's invitation to sit nearer, sat in a corner and kept reading a book, which was ill-bred, awkward, and injudicious.
Nadinka stood behind her mother's armchair, looked with curiosity at the Count and listened to what he said; he was a novelty for her.
Adouev did not know how to conceal, that he did not like the Count. The Count did not seem to notice his rude ness; he was civil and turned to Adouev, trying to make the conversation general But it was all in vain; he was silent, or answered yes and no.
When Madame Lubetzky happened to mention his surname, the Count asked whether he was related to Piotr Ivanitch.
' My uncle !' replied Alexandr, briefly.
' I have often met him in society,' said the Count.
' Very likely. What is there surprising in that ? ' answered Adouev, shrugging his shoulders.
The Count concealed a smile, biting his lower lip. Nadinka exchanged a look with her mother, crimsoned and dropped her eyes.
'Your uncle is an intelligent and agreeable man!' remarked the Count in a tone of slight irony.
Adouev did not answer.
Nadinka could not put up with it, she went up to Alexandr, and while the Count was speaking to her mother, whispered to him:
'Aren't you ashamed? the Count is so friendly to you, and you '
' Friendly!' in his annoyance Alexandr answered almost aloud: ' I don't want his friendship, don't say that again.'
Nadinka darted away from him, and from a distance looked at him long and fixedly with wide-open eyes, then she took up her position again behind her mother's chair, and paid no further attention to Alexandr.
But Adouev kept expecting all the while that the Count would go, and that at last he would have a chance of speaking to her mother. But ten o'clock, eleven struck, the Count did not go, and kept talking.
All the subjects upon which conversation usually turns at the first stage of an acquaintanceship were exhausted. The Count began to make jokes. He did this cleverly; his jokes were not forced, affected, nor far- fetched; he had a power of interesting, a special aptitude for telling things humorously, so that not anecdotes only, but simply a piece of new?, an incident, or a serious matter he would turn into comedy by a single unexpected word.
Both mother and daughter were heartily diverted by his sallies, and Alexandr himself hid more than once an involuntary smile behind his book. But he was raging inwardly.
The Count talked of everything equally well and with tact—of music, of people, and of foreign countries. The
conversation turned on men and women; the Count was severe on men, himself among them, and subtly flattered women in general, paying a few compliments to the ladies of the house in particular.
Adouev thought of his literary pursuits, of his poetry. ' There I should put him to shame,' he thought. They began to converse upon literature; the mother and daughter commended Alexandr as an author.
' That'll take him down!' thought Adouev.
Far from it. The Count talked of literature as though he were exclusively devoted to the subject; he made a few just criticisms in passing on contemporary Russian and French writers of note. Further it appeared that he was on terms of friendship with the leading Russian literary men, and in Paris had been acquainted with several French celebrities also. A few he commented upon with appreciation, others he slightly caricatured.
Of Alexandra verses he remarked that he did not know them, and had not heard of them.
Nadinka looked rather queerly at Adouev as though inquiring: ' What does that mean, pray ? You have not done much.'
Alexandr's heart fell. His churlish and arrogant expression gave way to one of melancholy. He looked like a cock with bedraggled tail hiding from the storm under a shed.
Presently there was a clinking of knives and glasses on the sideboard, the table was set, but still the Count did not go. All hope vanished. He even accepted Madame Lubetzky's invitation to stay and have a supper of curds.
' A Count, and eat curds!' said Adouev, casting a glance of hatred on the Count.
The Count ate with appetite and continued to make jokes, as though he were at home.
' The first time he's in the house and eating enough for three, he's shameless! ' whispered Alexandr to Nadinka.
' Why, he's hungry I ' she answered simply.
The Count at last went away, but it was too late to talk of things then. Adouev took his hat and was hurrying off. Nadinka overtook him, and succeeded in pacifying him.
' Then to-morrow?' asked Alexandr.
' To-morrow we shan't be at home.'
' Well, the day after to-morrow then.'
They parted.
The next time Alexandr arrived rather earlier. While still in the garden an unaccustomed sound reached him from indoors—a violoncello—no, not a violoncello. He drew nearer. A manly voice was singing—and what a voice! Sonorous, tender, a voice that one would think would penetrate a woman's heart. It penetrated Adouev's heart, but in a different way; it grew faint, it ached with anguish, envy, hatred, and a miserable undefined presentiment. Alexandr went from the courtyard into the hall.
' Who have you here ? ' he asked the servant.
' Count Novinsky.'
' Has he been here long?'
' Since six o'clock.'
' Tell your young lady that I have been and will come back again.'
u Very well.'
Alexandr went away and went wandering about the villas, not noticing where he was going. In two hours he returned.
' Well, is he still here?' he asked.
' Yes, and I think he will stay to supper. The mistress ordered roast woodcocks for supper.'
' And did you give the young lady my message ? '
' Yes.'
' Well, what did she say ? '
' She gave me no orders.'
Alexandr went home and did not appear for two days. God knows what revolutions of thought and feeling he went through ; at last he went again.
He came in sight of the villa, stood up in the boat and, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand, looked before him. Yonder between the trees he caught a glimpse of the blue dress which fitted Nadinka so well; and blue was the colour most becoming to her complexion. She always put on this dress when she wanted to please Alexandr specially. A load seemed lifted from his heart.
' Ah ! she wants to make up to me for her past unintentional neglect,' he thought; ' it's not she, but I who am to blame ; how could I behave so unforgivingly to her ? that's only the way to set her against one; a stranger, a new
acquaintance; it's very natural that she as hostess '
J^Ah. ! here she comes out of the bushes from the narrow footpath, she is going to the trellis, there she will take her stand and wait for. . . .'
She did in fact go on into the great avenue .... but who is turning with her from the path ?
' The Count!' Alexandr cried aloud in dismay, hardly believing his eyes.
