Nekhludoff, at the risk of being impolite, did not answer Kolosoff, and, seating himself before the steaming soup, continued to eat.
'Do let him eat,' said Missy, smiling. By the pronoun 'him,' she meant to call attention to her intimacy with Nekhludoff.
Meanwhile Kolosoff was energetically and loudly discussing the article against trial by jury which had roused his indignation. Michael Sergeievich supported his contentions and quoted the contents of another similar article.
Missy, as usual, was very
'Not particularly. Are you? Have you been to the exhibition?' he asked.
'No, we postponed it. But we went to play lawn tennis at the Salamatoff's. Mister Crooks is really a remarkable player.'
Nekhludoff had came here for recreation, and it was always pleasant to him to be in this house, not only because of the elegant luxury, which acted pleasantly on his senses, but because of the adulating kindnesses with which they invisibly surrounded him. To-day, however—it is wonderful to relate—everything in this house disgusted him; the porter, the broad stairway, the flowers, the lackeys, the table decorations, and even Missy herself, who, just now, seemed to him unattractive and unnatural. He was disgusted with that self-confident, vulgar, liberal tone of Kolosoff, the bull-like, sensual, figure of old Korchagin, the French phrases of the Slavophile maiden, the ceremonious faces of the governess and the tutor. But above all, he was disgusted with the pronoun 'him' that Missy had used. Nekhludoff was always wavering between two different relations he sustained toward Missy. Sometimes he looked at her as through blinking eyes or by moonlight, and then she seemed to him beautiful, fresh, pretty, clever and natural. At other times he looked at her as if under a bright sun, and then he saw only her defects. To-day was such a day. He saw the wrinkles on her face; saw the artificial arrangement of her hair; the pointed elbows, and, above all, her large thumb nail, resembling that of her father.
'It is the dullest game,' Kolosoff said, speaking of tennis, 'baseball, as we played it when we were boys, is much more amusing.'
'You have not tried it. It is awfully interesting,' retorted Missy, unnaturally accentuating the word 'awfully,' as it seemed to Nekhludoff.
A discussion arose in which Michael Sergeievich and Katherine Alexeievna took part. Only the governess, the tutor and the children were silent, evidently from ennui.
'They are eternally disputing!' laughing aloud, said old Korchagin. He pulled the napkin from his vest, and, noisily pushing back his chair, which was immediately removed by a servant, rose from the table. They all rose after him and went to a small table, on which stood figured bowls filled with perfumed water; then they washed their finger-tips and rinsed their mouths, and continued their conversation, in which no one took any interest.
'Is it not true?' Missy said to Nekhludoff, desiring to receive confirmation of her opinion that man's character can best be learned in play. She noticed on his thoughtful face an expression of reproach, which inspired her with fear, and she wished to know the cause of it.
'I really don't know. I never thought of it,' answered Nekhludoff.
'Will you go to mamma?' asked Missy.
'Yes, yes,' he said, producing a cigarette. The tone of his voice plainly betrayed that he did not wish to go.
She looked at him inquiringly, but was silent. He felt ashamed. 'It is hardly proper for me to come here to put people out of temper,' he thought, and, in an effort to be pleasant, he said that he would go with pleasure if the Princess were in a mood to receive him.
'Yes, yes; mamma will be glad. You can smoke there also. And Ivan Ivanovich is with her.'
The mistress of the house, Sophia Vasilievna, was an invalid. For eight years she had reclined in laces and ribbons, amid velvet, gilding, ivory, bronzes and flowers. She never drove out, and received only her 'friends,' i. e., whoever, according to her view, in any way distinguished himself from the crowd. Nekhludoff was one of these friends, not only because he was considered a clever young man, but also because his mother was a close friend of the family and he was a desirable match for Missy.
Her room was beyond the small and large drawing-rooms. In the large drawing-room Missy, who preceded Nekhludoff, suddenly stopped, and placing her hands on the back of a gilt chair, looked at him.
Missy was very anxious to be married, and Nekhludoff was a desirable party. Besides, she liked him, and had become accustomed to the thought that he would belong to her, and not she to him, and, with the unconscious but persistent craftiness of heart-sick persons, she gained her end. She addressed him now with the intention of bringing forth an explanation.
'I see that something has happened to you,' she said. 'What is the matter with you?'
The meeting in the court came to his mind, and he frowned and blushed.
'Yes, something has happened,' he said, desiring to be truthful. 'It was a strange, extraordinary and important event.'
'What was it? Can't you tell me?'
'Not now. Don't press me for an answer. I have not had the time to think over the matter,' he said, blushing still more.
'And you will not tell me?' The muscles on her cheek quivered, and she pushed away the chair.
'No, I cannot,' he answered, feeling that answering her thus he answered himself—admitted to himself that something very important had really happened to him.
'Well, then, come!'
She shook her head as if desiring to drive away undesirable thoughts, and walked forward with a quicker step than usual.
It seemed to him that she unnaturally compressed her lips in order to suppress her tears. It was painful to him to grieve her, but he knew that the slightest weakness would ruin him, i. e., bind him. And this he feared more than anything else to-day, so he silently followed her to the door of the Princess' apartments.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Princess Sophia Vasilievna had finished her meal of choice and nourishing dishes, which she always took alone, that no one might see her performing that unpoetical function. A cup of coffee stood on a small table near her couch, and she was smoking a cigarette. Princess Sophia Vasilievna was a lean and tall brunette, with long teeth and large black eyes, who desired to pass for a young woman.
People were making unpleasant remarks about her relations with the doctor. Formerly Nekhludoff had paid no attention to them. But to-day, the sight of the doctor, with his oily, sleek head, which was parted in the middle, sitting near her couch, was repulsive to him.
Beside the Princess sat Kolosoff, stirring the coffee. A glass of liquor was on the table.
Missy entered, together with Nekhludoff, but she did not remain in the room.
'When mamma gets tired of you and drives you away, come to my room,' she said, turning to Nekhludoff, as if nothing had happened, and, smiling cheerfully, she walked out of the room, her steps deadened by the heavy carpet.
'Well, how do you do, my friend? Sit down and tell us the news,' said Sophia Vasilievna, with an artful, feigned, resembling a perfectly natural, smile, which displayed her beautiful, long, skillfully made, almost natural- looking teeth. 'I am told that you returned from the court in very gloomy spirits. It must be very painful to people with a heart,' she said in French.
'Yes, that is true,' said Nekhludoff. 'One often feels his—feels that he has no right to judge others.'
'Comme c'est vrai!' she exclaimed, as if struck by the truth of the remark, and, as usual, artfully flattering her friend.
'And what about your picture? It interests me very much,' she added. 'Were it not for my indisposition, I should have visited you long ago.'
'I have given up painting entirely,' he answered dryly. Her unjust flattery was as apparent to him to-day as was her age, which she attempted to conceal. Try as he would, he could not force himself to be pleasant.
