What Is to Be Done?

has been doing, it can be realized in a year’s time. But now it is ten o’clock. “Mílenki” goes off to give his lessons or to business; he is employed in the office of a manufacturer. Viéra Pavlovna⁠—now she is Viéra Pavlovna again, until the next morning⁠—looks after the house; she has one servant, a young girl whom she has to teach everything, and after you have taught her, it is necessary to break in a new one. Viéra Pavlovna does not keep her servants long; they all get married! Within a half-year or a little more, you will see Viéra Pavlovna working on a collar or a pair of cuffs, preparing herself to be the bride’s nuptial godmother; here it is impossible to refuse. “How is it possible to do otherwise, Viéra Pavlovna? you have made all the arrangements yourself, there is no one besides you.” Yes, there is a great deal of care about the house. Then it is necessary to go and give her lessons; she has a good many pupils, about ten hours a week; more would be too hard, and she would not have any time. Before the lessons it is necessary to stop in the shop for a little while, and on her way home she has to look in once more. And then comes dinner with the mílenki. At dinner they almost always have company; one, more often two. More than two is impossible; when they have two to dinner, it is necessary to do extra work, to prepare a new dish so as to have enough. If Viéra Pavlovna feels tired when she gets home, dinner is made more simple. She sits till dinner time in her own room, resting, and the dinner is put on as it was begun, without her help. But if she is not tired, affairs in the kitchen begin to boil and steam, and extra dishes appear at dinner, some baked dish, but more often something that can be eaten with cream; that is, something that will serve as an excuse for cream.

At dinner Viéra Pavlovna asks questions and tells about things; more often she tells stories. And how can she help telling them? How much news she has to tell about the shop! After dinner she sits a quarter of an hour longer with the mílenki. Then comes dō svidánya (goodbye), and they each go to their own room; and Viéra Pavlovna lies down on her little bed, and takes her ease and reads, and very often she falls asleep, more often than not. Every other day she takes a nap for an hour or an hour and a half; this is a weakness, and it is a weakness of a low character. But Viéra Pavlovna sleeps after dinner when she can get a nap; and she likes to go to sleep, and she feels neither shame nor regret for this low-toned weakness. She then gets up, after sleeping or lounging for an hour or two, dresses, and goes again to the shop, and remains there till teatime. If they do not have company in the evening, then at tea she has another talk with the mílenki, and for half an hour they sit in the neutral room; then it is, “Dō svidánya, mílenki”; they kiss each other, and part till breakfast. Now Viéra Pavlovna sometimes works or reads, or rests from reading by playing on the piano, till very late, even till two o’clock. She has a grand piano in her room; the grand was bought not long ago; hitherto their piano was rented. This also was a great happiness, to own their own grand; it was cheaper, too. It was bought at a bargain, for a hundred rubles⁠—a small Erarovski, second hand; it cost seventy rubles to have it put in order; but the grand was of an excellent tone. Sometimes the mílenki comes to hear her sing; but only seldom: he is too busy. Thus goes the evening: work, reading, playing, singing; but reading and singing most of all. This is when they do not have company. But very often they have visitors, generally young people, younger than the “mílenki,” and younger than Viéra Pavlovna herself; their number includes the instructors of the shop. They esteem Lopukhóf very highly; they consider him one of the best minds in Petersburg, and perhaps they are not mistaken. And their tie to the Lopukhófs consists in this: they feel that it is profitable for them to talk with Dmitri Sergéitch. To Viéra Pavlovna they show immense respect; she even allows them to kiss her hand, not feeling that it is any degradation to herself, and she behaves towards them as though she were fifteen years their senior; that is, she behaves herself in such a way when she does not get into a gale; but, to tell the truth, she very often gets into a gale. She likes to run, to frolic with them, and they are all delighted, and there is a great deal of dancing and waltzing, a great deal of simple running about, a great deal of playing on the piano, a great deal of talking and laughter, and probably more singing than anything else. But the running, laughter, and everything else does not in the least prevent the young people from absolutely and entirely and boundlessly worshipping Viéra Pavlovna, from respecting her⁠—as may God grant respect for an older sister!⁠—as a mother, not even a good mother, is not always respected. However, singing is not frolicking, though sometimes one cannot get along without the nonsense. But for the most part, Viéra Pavlovna slugs seriously; and sometimes, when she does not sing, she plays seriously, and her hearers then sit in dumb silence. Not infrequently they have guests who are older, or who are of the same age as the Lopukhófs; for the most part, Lopukhóf’s former