after a silence.
'Ah, my friend,' replied Grandmamma, lowering her voice and laying a
hand upon the sleeve of his uniform, 'she would certainly have come if
she had been at liberty to do what she likes. She wrote to me that Peter
had proposed bringing her with him to town, but that she had refused,
since their income had not been good this year, and she could see
no real reason why the whole family need come to Moscow, seeing that
Lubotshka was as yet very young and that the boys were living with me--a
fact, she said, which made her feel as safe about them as though she had
been living with them herself.'
'True, it is good for the boys to be here,' went on Grandmamma, yet in
a tone which showed clearly that she did not think it was so very good,
'since it was more than time that they should be sent to Moscow to
study, as well as to learn how to comport themselves in society. What
sort of an education could they have got in the country? The eldest boy
will soon be thirteen, and the second one eleven. As yet, my cousin,
they are quite untaught, and do not know even how to enter a room.'
'Nevertheless' said the Prince, 'I cannot understand these complaints
of ruined fortunes. He has a very handsome income, and Natalia has
Chabarovska, where we used to act plays, and which I know as well as
I do my own hand. It is a splendid property, and ought to bring in an
excellent return.'
'Well,' said Grandmamma with a sad expression on her face, 'I do not
mind telling you, as my most intimate friend, that all this seems to me
a mere pretext on his part for living alone, for strolling about from
club to club, for attending dinner-parties, and for resorting to--well,
who knows what? She suspects nothing; you know her angelic sweetness and
her implicit trust of him in everything. He had only to tell her that
the children must go to Moscow and that she must be left behind in the
country with a stupid governess for company, for her to believe him! I
almost think that if he were to say that the children must be whipped
just as the Princess Barbara whips hers, she would believe even that!'
and Grandmamma leant back in her arm-chair with an expression of
contempt. Then, after a moment of silence, during which she took her
handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe away a few tears which had stolen
down her cheeks, she went, on:
'Yes, my friend, I often think that he cannot value and understand
her properly, and that, for all her goodness and love of him and her
endeavours to conceal her grief (which, however as I know only too well,
exists). She cannot really be happy with him. Mark my words if he does
not--' Here Grandmamma buried her face in the handkerchief.
'Ah, my dear old friend,' said the Prince reproachfully. 'I think you
are unreasonable. Why grieve and weep over imagined evils? That is
not right. I have known him a long time, and feel sure that he is an
attentive, kind, and excellent husband, as well as (which is the chief
thing of all) a perfectly honourable man.'
At this point, having been an involuntary auditor of a conversation
not meant for my ears, I stole on tiptoe out of the room, in a state of
great distress.
XIX -- THE IWINS
'Woloda, Woloda! The Iwins are just coming.' I shouted on seeing from
the window three boys in blue overcoats, and followed by a young tutor,
advancing along the pavement opposite our house.
The Iwins were related to us, and of about the same age as ourselves. We
had made their acquaintance soon after our arrival in Moscow. The second
