A Common Story E-Book

Ivan Goncharov

• Herausgeber: Lebooks Editora
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 519

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

A Common Story (1847) is Ivan Goncharov's debut novel, centered on the clash between youthful romanticism and pragmatic reality in 19th-century Russia. The protagonist, Alexander Aduev, leaves his provincial home full of idealistic dreams about love, poetry, and success in St. Petersburg. He imagines a future shaped by passion and lofty ideals, hoping to become both a man of letters and a person of influence. However, his youthful illusions soon collide with the harsh realities of urban life and the demands of practicality. Upon arriving in St. Petersburg, Alexander is taken in by his uncle, Pyotr Ivanovich Aduev, a seasoned, pragmatic businessman. Pyotr embodies the sober values of discipline, order, and rational calculation, constantly countering Alexander's romantic impulses with lessons rooted in experience. The novel develops as a dialogue between these two worldviews: the nephew's passionate idealism versus the uncle's pragmatic realism. Their confrontations highlight the inevitability of compromise and the fading of youthful enthusiasm in the face of societal expectations. As Alexander gradually abandons his dreams and adapts to the materialistic and practical norms of his uncle's world, the novel becomes a meditation on disillusionment and maturity. Goncharov portrays not only a personal coming-of-age story but also a broader commentary on the generational shift taking place in Russian society, where romantic aspirations often yielded to the demands of bureaucracy, commerce, and social convention. Ivan Goncharov (1812–1891) was a Russian novelist best known for works such as Oblomov and The Precipice. His novels explore themes of personal disillusionment, social change, and the tension between idealism and pragmatism, often through characters caught between dreams and reality. A Common Story, his first novel, established him as a major voice in Russian literature, setting the stage for his later, more celebrated works that examine the psychology of inertia, ambition, and the cultural transformations of 19th-century Russia.

Leseprobe

Ivan Goncharov

A COMMON STORY

Original Title:

“Obyknovennaya Istorya”

First Edition

Contents

INTRODUCTION

A COMMON STORY

INTRODUCTION

Ivan Goncharov

1812–1891

Ivan Goncharovwas a Russian novelist and civil servant, best known for his novel Oblomov (1859), a masterpiece of Russian literature that introduced one of the most enduring archetypes in world fiction: the indolent and passive hero. His works reflect the social, cultural, and psychological tensions of 19th-century Russia, combining realism, social critique, and psychological depth.

Early Life and Education

Goncharov was born in Simbirsk (today Ulyanovsk) into a wealthy merchant family. After his father’s death, he was raised by his mother and educated at a private boarding school before enrolling at Moscow State University, where he studied literature and philology. From an early age, he developed a strong interest in European and Russian classics, which later influenced his literary style.

Career and Contributions

In addition to his career in public administration, Goncharov became a central figure in Russian literature through his novels. His first major work, A Common Story (1847), examined the conflict between romantic idealism and pragmatic reality in Russian society. However, it was with Oblomov that Goncharov achieved lasting fame. The novel’s protagonist, Ilya Ilyich Oblomov, spends much of the story immobilized by indecision and lethargy, symbolizing a broader critique of Russian aristocracy and its resistance to social and political change.

Later, Goncharov published The Precipice (1869), which explored questions of morality, philosophy, and social transformation, further establishing his reputation as a writer concerned with the spiritual and cultural dilemmas of his time.

Impact and Legacy

The term “Oblomovism” entered Russian and international vocabulary as a synonym for inertia, passivity, and social stagnation, testifying to the cultural impact of his most famous character. Goncharov’s works, characterized by psychological realism and detailed social observation, influenced later Russian writers and contributed to the global appreciation of 19th-century Russian literature.

Ivan Goncharov died in St. Petersburg in 1891. Although his literary output was relatively small, his influence has been immense, with Oblomov remaining one of the defining novels of Russian literature. Goncharov is remembered as a writer who captured the psychological nuances of individuals and the broader cultural conflicts of a society on the brink of change.

About the work

A Common Story (1847) is Ivan Goncharov’s debut novel, centered on the clash between youthful romanticism and pragmatic reality in 19th-century Russia. The protagonist, Alexander Aduev, leaves his provincial home full of idealistic dreams about love, poetry, and success in St. Petersburg. He imagines a future shaped by passion and lofty ideals, hoping to become both a man of letters and a person of influence. However, his youthful illusions soon collide with the harsh realities of urban life and the demands of practicality.

Upon arriving in St. Petersburg, Alexander is taken in by his uncle, Pyotr Ivanovich Aduev, a seasoned, pragmatic businessman. Pyotr embodies the sober values of discipline, order, and rational calculation, constantly countering Alexander’s romantic impulses with lessons rooted in experience. The novel develops as a dialogue between these two worldviews: the nephew’s passionate idealism versus the uncle’s pragmatic realism. Their confrontations highlight the inevitability of compromise and the fading of youthful enthusiasm in the face of societal expectations.

As Alexander gradually abandons his dreams and adapts to the materialistic and practical norms of his uncle’s world, the novel becomes a meditation on disillusionment and maturity. Goncharov portrays not only a personal coming-of-age story but also a broader commentary on the generational shift taking place in Russian society, where romantic aspirations often yielded to the demands of bureaucracy, commerce, and social convention.

Ivan Goncharov (1812–1891) was a Russian novelist best known for works such as Oblomov and The Precipice. His novels explore themes of personal disillusionment, social change, and the tension between idealism and pragmatism, often through characters caught between dreams and reality. A Common Story, his first novel, established him as a major voice in Russian literature, setting the stage for his later, more celebrated works that examine the psychology of inertia, ambition, and the cultural transformations of 19th-century Russia.

A COMMON STORY

CHAPTER I

In the village of Grahae one summer day on the estate of Anna Pavlovna, a landowner of moderate means, every one in the house was up by daybreak, from its mistress to the house-dog Barbos.

But Anna Pavlovna’s only son, Alexandr Fedoritch, was still sleeping the sound sleep of a boy of twenty; everyone else in the house was bustling and hurrying about. But they all walked on tip-toe and spoke in whispers, so as not to wake the young master. If any one made the least noise or spoke aloud, Anna Pavlovna would rush out at once like a lioness enraged and punish the indiscreet person with a severe rebuke or an abusive epithet, or, when her anger and her energy were equal to it, with a blow.

In the kitchen three servants were kept busy cooking on a scale fit for a dinner of ten persons, though the whole family consisted of no more than Anna Pavlovna and her son Alexandr Fedoritch. In the coach house they were rubbing and greasing the- carriage. All were busy and were working with all their might. Barbos was the only one who was doing nothing, but even he took a share in the general activity in his own way. When a groom or coachman came near him or a maid ran by, he wagged his tail and sniffed the passing figure anxiously, while his eyes seemed to ask : “Are they ever going to tell me why we are all in such a bustle to-day ? ”

The bustle was because Anna Pavlovna was sending her son to Petersburg to get a post in the Civil Service there, or, as she herself expressed it, to see the world and show himself. A fatal day for her ! This was why she was so broken-down and unhappy. Often in her distress she would open her mouth to give some direction, and would suddenly stop in the middle of a word, her voice failed and, she turned aside, and wiped away her tears, or let them fall into the trunk which she was herself packing with Sashenka’s linen.

Tears had long been gathering in her heart, they rose into her throat and choked her and were ready to burst out in torrents; but she was saving them up as it were for the leave-taking and did not often waste them drop by drop.

It was not only Anna Pavlovna who was grieved at the coming separation. Sashenka’s valet, Yevsay, was also terribly distressed. He was to set off with his master to Petersburg, and had to leave the warmest corner in the house, a place on the stove in the room of Agrafena, the prime minister of Anna Pavlovna’s household, who was also, a fact of prime importance to Yevsay, in charge of the keys of the stores.

Behind the stove there was only room for two chairs and a table, which was set with tea, coffee, and eatables. Yevsay had long had a place behind the stove and in the heart of Agrafena. On the other chair she was sitting herself.

The relations of Agrafena and Yevsay were by now ancient history in the household. They, like every one else in the world, had been the subject of gossip and scandal, and then like every one else they had been dropped. Even their mistress had grown used to seeing them together, and for ten whole years they had been happy. Can many people out of all their lives count up ten years of happiness ? And now the moment of parting was at hand. Good-bye to the warm corner, good-bye to Agrafena Ivanovna, no more playing cards, and coffee and vodka and liqueurs —  good-bye to it all!

Yevsay sat in silence, sighing deeply.

Agrafena, with a frown on her face, was bustling about her duties. She showed her sorrow in her own peculiar way. She poured out tea to-day with exasperation, and instead of giving the first cup of strong tea to her mistress as usual, she poured it away, as though she could not bear any one to get the benefit of it, and she took all reproof with stolid indifference.

She boiled the coffee too long, the cream was burnt, the cups slipped out of her hands. She could not put the tray down on the table without a crash; she could not shut the cupboard or the doors without slamming them. She did not shed tears, but was angry with everything and everybody instead. This, however, was always a prominent characteristic of hers. She was not often contented; things were mostly not to her taste ; she used to grumble and complain of everything. But at this moment, so fatal for her, her character showed its full capabilities. More than anything she seemed to be angry with Yevsay.

“Agrafena Ivanovna ! ” he said in a sad subdued voice, quite out of keeping with his tall stout figure.

“Well, why did you sit down there, you booby ? ” she asked, just as though he had taken a seat there for the first time. “Get along with you, I want to get out a towel.”

“Ah, Agrafena Ivanovna! ” he repeated lazily, sighing and getting up from his chair, and then at once falling back into it when she had taken the towel.

“He can do nothing but whimper! Here the fellow sticks ! Good Lord, what a nuisance, there’s no getting rid of him ! ”

And she dropped her spoon with a loud clank, into the slop-basin.

“Agrafena ! ” broke in suddenly from the other room, “are you out of your senses ? Don’t you know that Sashenka is resting ? Have you come to blows, or what is it, at parting with your sweetheart ? ”

“Mustn’t stir for you — have to sit like the dead!” Agrafena hissed like a snake, wiping a cup with both hands as though she would have liked to have broken it to pieces.

“Good-bye, good-bye,” said Yevsay, with a colossal sigh, “it’s the last day, Agrafena Ivanovna!”

“And thank God for it! The devil’s welcome to you for all I care, there will be more room. There — get along, one can’t stir a step ; you straddle your long legs all over the place! ”

He touched her on the shoulder; how she answered him ! He sighed again, but did not move from his place, and it would have been quite needless if he had; Agrafena did not really wish him to go. Yevsay knew this, and was not uneasy.

“Who will take my place, I wonder ? ” he asked always with a sigh.

“The devil! ” she answered abruptly.

“So long as it’s not Proshka. But who will play cards with you ? ”

“Well, if it were Proshka, what does it matter to you ? she asked angrily.

Yevsay got up.

“Don’t play with Proshka, for mercy’s sake, don’t,” he said anxiously, and almost menacingly.

“But who can prevent me? You, pray, you scarecrow ? ”

“My darling, Agrafena Ivanovna ! ” he began imploringly, seizing her round the waist, I should have said, if there had been any sign of a waist about her.

She responded to his embrace by a sharp elbow in his chest.

“My darling, Agrafena Ivanovna! ” he repeated, “will Proshka love you as I do ? Look at him; what an impudent fellow he is; not a woman in the house he does not make up to. But me — ah ! you are the only woman in the world for me. If it were not the master’s will — oh! ”

He choked at this point, and waved his hand in the air.

Agrafena could hold out no longer; even her sorrow at last found vent in tears.

“But will you go away from me, you villain ? ” she said, weeping. “What are you chattering about, stupid ? Me keep company with Proshka! Can’t you see for yourself that you can never get a word of sense out of him ? He can do nothing but try to put his stupid arms round one.”

“Did he do that? Oh, the brute ! And you never told me ! I’d have 'shown him.”

“Let him try it on ! Am I the only petticoat in the house ? Me keep company with Proshka ! What an idea ! Even to sit by him makes me sick, the pig! And you have always to be on the look out with him, or he’s trying to gobble up something on the sly ; but you don’t notice it, of course! ” ,

“If such a thing should happen, Agrafena Ivanovna —  the devil’s too strong for us, you know — better let Grishka have my place here; at least he’s a civil fellow and hard working : he didn’t sneer---’’

“There’s an idea now! ” Agrafena fell upon him. “Why do you foist some one on me, as if I were like — like that! Go away, I say. It’s not the likes of me to go and throw myself into any one else’s arms. Only with you, you wretch, the devil truly led me into temptation, and I repent it. The very idea! ”

“God bless you for your goodness I it’s a weight off my heart!” Yevsay cried.

“You’re glad!” she shrieked savagely again; “it is a good thing you’re glad at something — be as glad as you like.”

And her lips grew white with anger. Both were silent.

“Agrafena Ivanovna,” said Yevsay timidly, after a short pause.

“Well, what now ? ”

“Why, I was quite forgetting; not a drop nor a morsel of anything have I tasted this morning.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re after.”

“I couldn’t eat for sorrow, my dear.”

She took from the bottom shelf of the cupboard, from behind a loaf of sugar, a glass of vodka and two huge slices of bread and ham. All this had long before been made ready for him by her own careful hand.

She threw them to him, as one would hardly throw a bone to a dog.

One piece fell on the floor.

“Here, then, ready for you ! yes! for you, may it choke you. But hush, don’t munch for all the house to hear!”

She turned away from him with an expression of simulated aversion, but he slowly began to eat, looking doubtfully at Agrafena and covering his mouth with one hand.

Meanwhile the coachman appeared at the gates with the three horses, and took them under the shelter of the stable. Removing his cap, he took out of it a dirty towel and rubbed the sweat off his face. Anna Pavlovna saw him from the window, and she turned pale. Her knees trembled under her, and her arms hung limp, although she had been expecting it. Recovering 'herself with an effort, she called for Agrafena.

“Go on tiptoe, quietly, and see whether Sashenka is asleep,” she said. “He will sleep too long, dear heart, perhaps, and it is the last day; so I shall see nothing of him. But no! you can’t do it. You’ll be sure to thump into the room like a cow. I had better go myself.’

And she went.

“Go on, then, you’re not a cow, I suppose" grumbled Agrafena to herself. “A cow, indeed! you’d be glad of a few more such cows! ”

Alexandr Fedoritch himself met Anna Pavlovna on her way, a fair young man in all the bloom of youth, health and strength. He said good-morning cheerfully to his mother, but suddenly catching sight of the trunk and packages he seemed rather disturbed, walked away to the window in silence, and began to draw with his finger on the windowpane. After a minute he spoke again to his mother and looked unconcernedly, even with pleasure, at the preparations for the journey.

“What made you sleep so late, dearie ? ” said Anna Pavlovna, “isn’t your face a little swollen ? Let me moisten your eyes and cheeks with some rose-water.

“No, I don’t want any, mamma.”

“What will you like for breakfast ? Would tea be best or coffee ? I have ordered some beef cutlets and sour cream fritters — what will you have ? ”

“It’s all the same to me, mamma.”

Anna Pavlovna went on packing the linen, then stopped and gazed at her son with a look of anguish.

“Sasha ! ” she said, after a pause.

“What do you want, mamma?”

She hesitated to speak, as if she were afraid of something.

“Where are you going, my dear one, and why ? ” she asked at last in a low voice.

“How, where, mamma? To Petersburg — why? — why to----”

“Listen, Sasha,” she said with great emotion, placing her hand on his shoulder, evidently with the intention of making a last appeal; “it is not too late ; think again, and stop.”

“Stop! but how is it possible? Look, my clothes are packed,” he said, not knowing what to say.

“Your clothes packed, but there — there ! — see, now they are unpacked.”

In three armfuls she had emptied all out of the trunk.

“How can it be so, mamma ? I am all ready — and to change so suddenly — what will they say ? ”

He looked distressed.

“It is not so much for my own sake as for yours, that I persuade you not to go. Why are you going ? To try and find happiness. But have you not been happy here, I wonder ? Does not your mother think of nothing else all day long but how to gratify every wish of yours ? Of course, at your age now, your mother’s devotion alone is not enough for your happiness : and I don’t expect it. Well, look round you; every one is eager to please you. And Maria Karpovna’s daughter, Sonushka? There — you blushed. Ah, my darling, how she loves you — God bless her! They say she has not slept for three nights !”

“There ! Mamma ! how you talk ! She is so — ”

“Yes, yes ! as though I don’t see. Ah, and, by-the-by, she has taken your handkerchiefs to hem. ‘ I won’t let anyone else do them,’ she said, ‘ I will mark them myself.’ You see. What more would you have ? Stay ! ”

He listened in silence, hanging his head and playing with the tassel of his dressing-gown.

“What will you find in Petersburg ? ” she continued. “Do you think you will find life as easy there as here ? Oh, my dear, God knows what you may have to bear and put up with ; you will suffer cold and hunger and want. There are plenty of bad people everywhere, but you won’t meet with good ones so easily. As for social consideration, whether you are in town or country, you will be just as much a person of consideration. Suppose you don’t see Petersburg society  — still you may think yourself the best in the land living here ; and so it is in everything, my dear one. You are a well-educated, fine, good-looking fellow. I am an old woman, and the only happiness left me in this world is the sight of you. You might marry, God might bless you with children, and I could nurse them and you could live without troubles or anxiety, a peaceful tranquil life, envying no man — but there, perhaps things may not go well — perhaps you will remember my words. Sashenka ! stay ! ”

He coughed and sighed, but did not utter a word.

“And look out here,” she continued, opening the door on to the balcony; “are not you sorry yourself to be leaving such a home ? ”

From the balcony came a fresh scent. Round the house right into the distance stretched the garden, full of old lime trees, thick wild roses, service-berries, and bushes of lilac. And among the trees were beds of bright-coloured flowery and here and there, little paths ran zigzagging in and out, while in the distance was a softly splashing lake, on one side golden with the rays of the morning sun and smooth as glass, on the other as dark-blue as the sky mirrored in it, and stirred by faint ripples. And then an amphitheatre formed by the fields of waving corn and bordered by a dark forest.

Anna Pavlovna, screening her eyes from the sun with one hand, with the other pointed out every object in turn to her son.

“Look ! ” she said, “how abundantly God has blessed our meadows! There, from that field of rye alone we shall harvest four thousand bushels ; and there is the wheat and the buckwheat: only the buckwheat is not as good this year as last; it looks as though it will be poor. And the forest too I how the forest has grown ! Think how great is the wisdom of God ! The fuel from our share we shall sell for a thousand at least. And the game, too ! And you know all this is yours, my dear ; I am only your steward. Look at the lake, how splendid ! It is really heavenly ! The fish are in shoals there ; we only need to buy sturgeon; the carp and the perch and the gremilles are simply swarming, we have enough for ourselves and our people as well. Over there are your cows and horses grazing. Here you alone are master of all, but in Petersburg I daresay everybody will think himself as good as you are. And you want to run away from all this plenty, you don’t even know what you are running to — to your ruin perhaps. God help you! Do stay!”

He was silent.

“But you are not listening,” she said. “What are you looking at so steadily ? ”

He pointed with his hand silently and thoughtfully into the distance. Anna Pavlovna looked and her face fell.

There between the fields ran a path twisting like a snake and disappearing into the forest, the path to the promised land — to Petersburg.

Anna Pavlovna was silent for some minutes, trying to recover herself.

“That’s how it is, then ! ” she said at last, sadly. “Well, my dear, God bless you ! Go, then, if you are so bent on it. I will not oppose it. You shall not say anyway that your mother monopolized your young life.”

Poor mother ! This is all the recompense for your love ! Was not this what you expected ?

Ah, but mothers expect no recompense. A mother’s love is without reason, without power of choice. If you are great, renowned, proud, handsome, if your name is on men’s lips, and your exploits make a noise in the world, then your old mother’s head is trembling with happiness, she weeps and laughs and prays long and fervently. And the son, for the most part, does not even think of sharing his triumphs with his mother. If you are poor in mind and spirit, if nature has stamped you with the stigma of deformity, and the pangs of disease torture you body and soul, or if men spurn you from them and there is no place for you among them — the more place for you in your mother’s heart. She clasps her misshapen, deficient child all the closer to her heart, and her prayers are still longer and more fervent.

How can we blame Alexandr for egoism, because he was determined to leave home ? He was twenty. From his nursery life had been all smiles for him — his mother idolised him and spoiled him, as mothers do spoil an only son; his nurses all sang to him from his cradle that he would walk in gold and never know sorrow; his teachers declared that he would do something, and, in addition to the adoration of his own household, the daughter of their neighbor smiled on him. And the old cat, Vaska, seemed to be more amiable to him than to any one else in the house.

Sorrow, tears, trouble — all that he knew of only by hearsay, as we know of some disease, which has not appeared openly, but which lurks hidden away somewhere in men. So the future presented itself to him in rainbow colours. Something beckoned him into the distance, but what precisely, that he could not tell. Seductive phantoms glimmered before him, but he could never catch a close view of them; he could hear mingled sounds — now the voice of glory, now the voice of love — and all moved him to a sweet unrest. .

The world of his home soon seemed narrow to him. Nature, and his mother’s fondness, the devotion of his nurses and of all the household, his soft bed, and dainty food and purring cats — all these comforts, so dearly prized in the decline of life, he would have gladly exchanged for the unknown, full of alluring and mysterious fascination. Even his love for Sophia — a first, soft, rosy love — did not restrain him. What was this love to him? He dreamed of a colossal passion which should achieve great exploits and triumph over every obstacle. He loved Sophia meanwhile with a small love while waiting for the greater. He dreamed, too, of great deeds in his country’s service. He studied many subjects and diligently. On his certificate it was recorded that he had mastered some dozen sciences and half-dozen languages, ancient and modern. Above all he dreamed of making a name as a writer. His verses were the admiration of his school-fellows. Before him stretched a number of paths ; and they seemed each better than the other. He did not know into which to throw himself. Only the straight path was hidden from his eyes; had he seen it, even now perhaps he would not have gone away.

How could he stay ? His mother wished it — that was quite another matter and very natural. In her heart all feelings had died away except one — love for her son, and it clutched feverishly at this last object. Except for him what was left for her ? Nothing but death. It has long been an accepted fact that a woman’s heart cannot live without love.

Alexandr had been spoiled, but was not demoralised by his home life. He was so happily formed by Nature that his mother’s love and the adoration of all around him only influenced him in a good direction, prematurely awakening, for example, his sympathetic feelings, and inspiring in him an excessive confidence in every one. This very fact perhaps tended to kindle ambition in him, but ambition in itself is only a mould; all will depend on what is the substance you pour into it.

By far the greatest danger for him was the fact that his mother, for all her devotion to him, could not give him a true view of life, and did not prepare him for the struggle which awaited him and awaits every man in his turn. But this would have needed a master hand, a clear intellect, and a fund of great experience not bounded by the narrow provincial horizon. It would have needed some one who was even able to love him rather less, not to think of him every minute, not to remove out of his way every care and every obstacle, not to weep and to suffer in his place even in his childhood, so as to enable him to feel the approach of difficulties for himself, to meet them with his own forces, and to think for his own future — in a word, to understand that he is a man. How was Anna Pavlovna to know all this, still more to put it into practice ? The .reader has seen what she was. Would he not like to see more of her ?

She had already forgotten her son’s selfishness. Alexandr Fedoritch found her engaged in packing a second time his clothes and linen. In the bustle and the preparations for the journey she had apparently completely forgotten her sorrow.

“Here, Sashenka, notice well where I put things,’' she said. “Below everything, at the bottom of the trunk, the sheets, a dozen. Look, is it right in the list? ”

“Yes, mamma.”

“All with your mark, you see. A. F. A., all our darling Sonushka. Without her our stupid creatures would not have been ready for a long time. What next ? Ah, the pillow-cases. One, two, three, four — yes, all the dozen here. Here are your shirts, three dozen — what linen ! Look at it  — it’s Dutch make — I drove myself to the shop, to Vassili Vassilitch’s; he brought out the three best pieces he had. Mind you count them over by the list, dear boy, every time you get them home from the laundress; they are all bran new. You won’t see many such shirts in Petersburg, very likely they will change them; there are such dishonest creatures to be sure, who have no fear of God. Socks —  twenty-two pairs. Do you know what I have thought of? To put your pocket-book with your money in a sock. You will not need any till you get to Petersburg — so God grant, if anything should happen, they may rummage but they will not find it. And the letter to your uncle I have put there, too; how delighted he will be to be sure ! Here’s seventeen years gone by and we’ve never sent a word to one another — that’s a long time. Here are your neckties, and here are the handkerchiefs; one half-dozen is still with Sonushka. Don’t tear your handkerchiefs, my darling; they are all good cambric. I bought them at Meheev’s at two and a quarter roubles a yard. Now, that’s all the linen, Now your clothes. But where is Yevsay ? Why isn’t he looking on ? Yevsay ! ”

Yevsay came lazily into the room.

“What are your orders ? ” he asked still more lazily.

“What are my orders ? ” repeated Anna Pavlovna angrily. “Why aren’t you looking where I pack the things ? But when you want anything on the journey, you will go and turn everything topsy-turvy. He can’t tear himself from his sweetheart, such a treasure ! The day is long enough, you will have plenty of time. Is this how you mean to look after your master in Petersburg ? You had better be careful. Look here : these are the dress clothes ; you see where I lay them ? And you, Sashenka, be careful of them; don’t wear them every day ; the cloth cost sixteen roubles a yard. When you go to see the best people wear it and don’t sit down all anyhow, like your auntie, who never could sit down on an empty chair or sofa, but was bound to go and plump down where some one had put a hat or some such thing; the other day she sat down on a saucer of jam — such a mess she made ! When you go out rather more quietly wear this coat here. Now your waistcoats — one, two, three, four. Two pairs of trousers. Well, there are clothes to last you the next three years. Ah ! I am tired and no mistake, the whole morning I have been on my legs. You can go, Yevsay. Let us talk a little of something else. Soon our guests will be here, and then there will be no time.” She sat down on the sofa and made her son sit down beside her.

“Well, Sasha,” she said after a short silence, “you are now going to a strange land.”

“A strange land ! Petersburg ! How you talk, mamma.” - j a li^G wait a little, hear what I want to say! God alone knows what awaits you there, what you will meet with, good and bad. I trust He, our Father in Heaven, will guard you ; and you, my dear, above all, don’t forget Him; remember that without faith there is no salvation anywhere or in anything. You will take a good position! here, you will mix with people of consequence — indeed, we are as good as anybody; your father was a nobleman, a major — all the same, humble yourself before the Lord God ; pray both in good fortune and in bad; and not like the proverb — ‘ the peasant does not cross himself till he hears the thunder.’ There are men, who, while they have good luck, don’t even go to church, and then when they come to grief, they will put up candles at a rouble a piece, and will give alms to the poor — that is a great sin. And while we are talking of the poor — don’t waste money on them too often, don’t give away too much. Why should you spoil them? They won’t think any the more of you for it. They will spend it in drink and only laugh at you. You have a soft heart, I know; you would be ready, I dare say, to give away even a sixpenny piece. No, that’s not necessary; God will provide ! Will you visit the house of God? Will you go every Sunday to Mass ? ”

She sighed.

Alexandr was silent. He remembered that while he was studying at the university and living in the capital of the province, he had not been very zealous in going to church, and in the country it was only from desire to please his mother that he had accompanied her to mass. He was ashamed to tell a lie. His mother understood his silence and sighed again.

“Well, I won’t compel you,” she continued, “you are a young man — how could you be as zealous in the house of God as an old woman like me ? Perhaps your official duties now will hinder you, or you will be staying late at some grand houses and will oversleep yourself. God will have pity on your youth. Don’t be troubled; you have a mother; she will not oversleep. So long as there is a drop of blood left in my body, so long as my tears are not dried up in my eyes, and God has compassion on my sins, I will crawl, if I have not the strength to walk, along the road to church. I will give my last breath, I will shed my last tear for you, my dear. My prayers shall win you health and position and decorations and heavenly and earthly blessings. Can it be that He, our Father in Heaven, will despise the prayers of a poor old woman ? For myself I want nothing. Let Him take everything from me, health, life, sight — only may He grant you every pleasure, every happiness and good-----”

She could not finish. Tears began to fall from her eyes.

Alexandr jumped up front his place. “Mamma, he said.

“There, sit down, sit down ! ” she replied, hastily wiping away her tears. “I have still a great deal more to talk to you about. What was I going to say ? It’s gone out of my head. You see what a memory I have. Ah! keep the fasts, my dear. That is a great thing ! On Wednesdays and Fridays, God will pardon it, but Lent — God forbid ! Look at Mikhailo Mikhailitch, he thought himself an enlightened man, but what happened to him? Festival and fast alike —  he eat as greedily as ever. It positively makes my hair stand on end. He gave to the poor to be sure, but was his charity acceptable to the Lord ? They say he once gave a sovereign to an old man; he took it to be sure, but turned his back and spat. All bowed to him, and God knows what they said to his face, but behind his back they crossed themselves when they thought of him, as though he were a devil.”

Alexandr listened with some impatience and gazed from time to time out of window at the distant road.

She was silent for a minute.

“Take care of your health before all things,” she continued. “If you are seriously ill — which God forbid! —  write. I will make a great effort and come to you. Who would look after you in Petersburg ? Why they would even seize the opportunity to rob you in your sickness. Don’t go into the streets after dark; keep away from ferocious-looking people. Take care of your money — save it for a rainy day. Spend it reasonably. From money — the accursed thing — comes everything good and evil. Don’t be extravagant; don’t waste it on needless whims. You will receive from me, without fail, two thousand five hundred roubles a year. Two thousand five hundred roubles is no small matter. Don’t spend it on any kind of luxury, nothing of that sort, only don’t deny yourself anything you can have ; if you want any dainty, don’t grudge the money. Don’t give way to wine; ah, it is the greatest enemy of mankind! And, here she dropped her voice, “beware of women ! I know them. There are creatures so shameless, that they will throw themselves on your neck when they see such a-----” She looked lovingly at her son.

“That’s enough, mamma; isn’t it time I had my breakfast ? ” he asked almost with vexation.

“Directly — directly — now one word more. Don’t set your heart on the wife of another,” she went on hurriedly, “that is a great sin ! ‘ Do not covet your neighbour’s wife ’ is written in the Scriptures. If any woman there tries to get hold of you — to marry you — God forbid ! — don’t dare to think of it! They will be ready to entrap you, when they see you have money and are good-looking. I daresay at your chiefs or at some other distinguished and wealthy grandee’s, they will set their caps at you and try to make a match for their daughters. Well, then, it might be, only write to me. I will come somehow and will see that they are not palming off just any girl on you, simply to get rid of her, some old maid or poor creature. Every one will try to make up to a match like you. But if you yourself fall in love, and she proves to be a good girl — well then,” here she lowered her voice, “Sonushka need not be considered.” (The old woman in her love for her son was ready even to act against her conscience.) “After all, what was Maria Karpovna thinking about ? Her daughter is no match for you. A country girl! There are others besides her who would be glad to get hold of you.”

“Sophia — no, mamma — I shall never forget her,” said Alexandr.

“Well, well, my dear, never mind, I only mentioned it. Work a little in your situation, come home here and then, as God sees fit — there are always plenty of girls. If you don’t forget her — well, then. But if--”

She wanted to say more, but had not the heart; and bending to his ear she asked softly, “And will you remember — your mother ? ”

“See what you’ve worked yourself up to,” he interrupted, “please let them serve what you have, omelet or whatever it is. Forget you; how could you imagine such a thing ? May God punish me ! ”

“Hush, hush, Sasha,” she broke in quickly; “why are you calling down such things on your head ? No, no, whatever happens, if such a thing comes to pass, let me suffer alone. You are young, you are only beginning life, you will have friends, you will marry — a young woman will fill the place of your mother and of every one for you. No, may God bless you as I bless you ! ”

She kissed him on the forehead and so ended her sermon.

“But why is it nobody comes ? ” she said. “Not Maria Karpovna, nor Anton Ivanitch nor the priest are come, The mass must be over by now, I should think. Ah, here is some one coming! Anton Ivanitch, I fancy — yes, it is he ; speak of the devil-”

Who does not know Anton Ivanitch ? He is a Wandering Jew. He has existed always, everywhere, from the most ancient times, and has never become extinct. He was present at the Greek and Roman symposiums, and certainly tasted the fatted calf killed by the happy father on the return of the Prodigal Son.

Among us in Russia he takes various forms. The one in question had twelve serfs mortgaged over and over again; he lived almost in a hut, a kind of queer building resembling a loghouse — the entrance somewhere behind over some timber, close up to the hedge; but for twelve years he had been continually declaring that in the following spring he would start building a new house. He kept no housekeeper in his house. There was not a man of his acquaintance who had dined, supped or drunk a cup of tea in his house, but also there was not a man with whom he had not dined, supped or drunk tea fifty times a year. In days gone by Anton Ivanitch used to walk about in loose pantaloons and a full skirted overcoat, now he wears on weekdays a surtout and trousers, on holidays, a frockcoat — of what sort of cut God only knows. In figure he is fat, because he has no sorrows, no cares, no emotions, though he pretends that he spends his whole life in the sorrows and cares of others; but it is well-known that the sorrows and cares of others do not make us thin ; that is a fact admitted on all hands.

In reality AntonTvanitch was never of use to any one, yet without him not a single ceremony took place, not a wedding, nor a funeral. He was at all the formal dinners and evening parties and at all family gatherings; no one would stir a step without him. You may imagine perhaps that he was very useful, giving good advice here, arranging some difficulty there. Not a bit of it! No-one had ever entrusted him with anything of the kind; he understood nothing, could do nothing; could not manage a matter in the law courts, could not act as go-between or mediator, could do absolutely nothing.

But yet they did commission him sometimes to call in and take a polite message from such a one to such a one, and he takes it without fail and seizes the opportunity to get a breakfast there ; or to inform such a one that certain papers have been received, but their exact nature they would not confide to him; or to take somewhere a little jar of honey or a handful of seeds with the precept “not to spill and not to spoil; ” or to carry congratulations on some one’s birthday. And they employ Anton Ivanitch, too, in such matters as they consider it unsuitable to leave to a servant. “We can’t send Petrushka, he would be sure to make a mistake about it. No, better let Anton Ivanitch go with it! It would never do to send a man ; so and so would be offended, better get Anton Ivanitch to go ! ”

So every one would have been astonished if he were nowhere to be seen at a dinner or a supper. “But where is Anton Ivanitch ? ” every one would be sure to ask in surprise. “What’s wrong with him ? — why isn’t he here ? ” And the dinner would hardly seem a dinner at all.

Anton Ivanitch came in and took Anna Pavlovna’s hand.

“Good-morning, ma’am, good-morning, Anna Pavlovna! I have the honour of congratulating you on something new.”

“What is that, Anton Ivanitch?” inquired Anna Pavlovna, looking at herself from head to foot.

“Why the little bridge at the gates ! You must have only just had it put up. Why, I listened — the planks didn’t dance under my feet. I looked, and it was new! ”

-He always used when he met acquaintances to congratulate them on something or other, either on Lent, or on the spring, or on the autumn; if, after a spell of warm weather, frost had set in, then he would congratulate them on the frost, if the frost had just broken up, then on the thaw.

On this occasion there was nothing of this kind to fix on, but he still managed to find something.

“Kind regards to you from Alexandra Vassilievna, Matrena Mihailovna and Piotr Sergeitch,” said he.

“I thank you sincerely, Anton Ivanitch! Are their children well ? ”

“Yes, thanks be to God. I bring you the blessing of the church, the good father is just on my heels. But have you heard, ma’am, our good Semen Arkhipytch ? ”

“What is it? ” asked Anna Pavlovna, in dismay.

“Ah, he has taken leave of us for ever.”

“You don’t say it? When did it happen?”

“Yesterday morning. They sent to let me know in the evening; a lad galloped up; and I set off and did not sleep all night. They were all in tears; I had to console them and see to everything; every one in the house was quite overcome, nothing but weeping. I was all alone.”

“Merciful heavens,” said Anna Pavlovna, shaking her head, “such is life ! But how could it happen ? Only this week he sent us his greetings.”

“Yes, ma’am — ah ! but he had been ailing a long while, the old man was a good age, the wonder is that he had never been laid up till now.”

“A good age? He was only a year older than my poor husband. Well, God’s peace be with him! ” said Anna Pavlovna, crossing herself. “I am grieved for poor Fedosia Petrovna, she is left with little children on her hands, it’s a serious matter — five, and almost all little girls. And when is the funeral to be? ”

“To-morrow.”

“Ah, every heart has its own sorrow, Anton Ivanitch, here am I seeing my son off.”

“There’s no help for it, Anna Pavlovna, we are all mortal; ‘ man is born to sorrow,’ is written in the Scriptures.”

“Well, don’t be vexed with me for distressing you a little, let us sorrow together ; you love us like one of our own family.”

“Ah, Anna Pavlovna ! and whom could I love as I do you? Have I many friends like you? You know how precious you are. I have so many cares, and that reminds me of my building. Only yesterday I was disputing all the morning with the contractor, but somehow we could not agree on anything. Yet how, thought I, am I to keep away ? What, thought I, will she do without me ? She is no longer young. Why she will be beside herself ! ”

“God reward you, Anton Ivanitch, for not forgetting us! And, indeed, I am not myself; my head is in such a whirl.

I can see nothing; my throat is sore with crying. I beg you to take a little to eat; you must be tired and hungry.”

“I thank you sincerely. I confess that I had a drop at Piotr Sergeitch’s as I was passing and took a mouthful with him. But that is no hindrance. The father is coming; let him give the benediction. Yes, here he is on the stairs ! ”

The priest came in. Maria Karpovna, too, arrived with her daughter, a plump and rosy girl, with a smile and tearful eyes. The eyes and the whole expression of face of Sophia said plainly : “I will love simply without caprice, I will be married like a nursemaid, and will obey my husband in everything and never think I know better than he ; indeed, and how could one know better than one’s husband ? it would be a sin. I will be diligent in housekeeping and sewing; I will bear him half-a-dozen children, and will suckle them, tend them, dress them and make their clothes.” The plumpness and brilliance of her cheeks and the fine contours of her throat confirmed the promise of robust motherhood. But the tears in her eyes and her pathetic smile lent her at this moment a more romantic interest

Before anything else they listened to a prayer, for which Anton Ivanitch called in the domestics, lighted the candle, and took the book from the priest, when he had finished reading it, and handed it to the deacon, and afterwards poured the holy water into a little flask and put it into his pocket, saying “That’s for Agafea Nikitishnya.” They sat down to table. Except Anton Ivanitch and the priest, they could hardly eat a morsel, but to make up for this, Anton Ivanitch did full justice to the Homeric breakfast. Anna Pavlovna kept weeping and stealthily wiping her eyes.

“Don’t keep on so, ma’am,” said Anton Ivanitch with assumed vexation, pouring out some liqueur for himself. “Why, are you sending him to certain death, do you imagine ? ” Then he drank up half the liqueur and smacked his lips.

“What liqueur! What an aroma it has ! Ah, ma’am, you wouldn’t find such liqueur anywhere in the district! ” he said, with an expression of great pleasure.

“It is no more than thr-ee-ee years old! ” said Anna Pavlovna, sobbing, “it has — only to-day — been uncorked for you. '

“Ah, Anna Pavlovna, it makes me ill to see you, began Anton Ivanitch again, “I don’t know what you deserve.”

“But only imagine, Anton Ivanitch, an only son, and he going out of my sight; it will kill me and there will be no one to bury me.”

“And what do we count for? What? Am la stranger or what ? And why in such a hurry to die ? More likely to be married than that — I would dance at the wedding. But do give over crying."

“I cannot, Anton Ivanitch, indeed I cannot; I don’t know myself why my tears will come.”

“The idea of keeping such a young man shut up ! Let him have his freedom, he will find his wings, and then he will do wonders; there he will gain a position.”

“Good luck to your words! And why have you taken so little pie ? Take some more.”

“Yes, I will have some; just this piece. To your health, Alexandr Fedoritch ! A lucky journey, and come home quickly and get married ! Why do you blush, Sophia Vassilievna?”

“I ? — oh, no. I’m so---------’’

“Ah, young people, young people — he ! he ! he ! ”

“In your company one cannot feel one’s sorrow, Anton Ivanitch,” said Anna Pavlovna, “you know so well how to comfort one. God give you health ! But do take a little liqueur.”

“I will drink a little, ma’am, I will indeed; who would not drink at such a leave-taking ”

The breakfast came to an end. The coachman had long ago packed the carriage. They brought it round to the steps. The servants ran about one after another. One carried a trunk, another a bundle, a third a little bag, and then ran back after something else. Like flies round a drop of syrup, the servants clustered round the carriage, and every one wanted to have a hand in it.

“Better lay the trunk so,” said one, “and here the hamper with the provisions.”

“And where are they to put their legs then ? ” answered the other, “the trunk’s better lengthways, and the hamper we can fix alongside.”

“The feather bed will roll off, if the trunk goes lengthways; better across. What next? Were the slippers packed ? ”

“I don’t know. Who packed them ? ”

“I didn’t. Go and see whether they are still there upstairs.”

“You go yourself.”

“And why not you ? I haven’t time ! ”

“Here, don’t forget this,” screamed a girl, holding up a small parcel above her head.

“Give it here ! ”

“Stuff this in somehow into the trunk, it’s been forgotten to the last,” said another, jumping on the steps and handing in a brush and comb.

“Where can one stuff it now ? ” cried the stout valet angrily to her. “Get away with you, you see the trunk is at the very bottom.”

“It’s the mistress’s orders; doesn’t matter a straw to me ! ”

“Well, give it here, look sharp ; we can put it here in the pocket at the side.”

The shaft horse continually lifted and shook his head. The bell every time gave a shrill tinkle, reminding one of partings, but the trace horses stood thoughtfully, their heads lowered, as though they understood all the charms of the journey which lay before them, and sometimes lashed their tails or thrust out an underlip at the shaft horse. At last the fatal minute came. There was another little prayer offered up.

“Be seated, be seated, all of you ! ” was Anton Ivanitch’s order. “Pray sit down, Alexandr Fedoritch; and you, Yevsay, sit down. Sit down, sit down ! ” And he himself just sat for a second on the edge of a chair. “Now let us go, in God’s name.”

At this point Anna Pavlovna broke down and fell upon Alexandr’s neck.

“Farewell, farewell, my dear,” was heard among her sobs. “Shall I see you again ? ” Nothing more could be distinguished. At this moment the tinkle of another troika-bell was heard; a telega flew into the court, drawn by three horses. From the telega leaped out a young man, covered with dust, who rushed into the room and threw himself on Alexandr’s neck.

“Pospyeloff! ” — “Adouev! ” they exclaimed, at the same instant clasping each other in an embrace.

“From where — how — have you come?”

“From home. I have been galloping day and night, on purpose to say good-bye to you.”

“Friend, friend ! true friend ! ” said Adouev with tears in his eyes. “To journey 150 miles to say good-bye J Oh, there is friendship in the world ! For life, isn’t it ? ” said Alexandr, passionately clasping his friend’s hand and falling into his arms.

“Till death,” he replied, pressing his hand still more warmly as he returned his embrace.

“Write to me ! ”

“Yes, and you too write.”

Anna Pavlovna did not know how to make enough of Pospyeloff. The departure was delayed for half an hour. At last they were ready.

All went on foot as far as the wood. Sophia and Alexandr seized their chance, while passing through a dark passage, to throw themselves in each other’s arms.

“Sasha, dear Sasha ! ” “Sonitchka! ” they stammered, and their words were lost in a kiss.

“You will forget me there ? ” she said tearfully.

“Oh, how little you know me ! I shall come back • believe me, and never another.........”

“Here take this quickly; it is my hair and a ring.”

He quickly put both in his pocket.

First walked Anna Pavlovna with her son and Pospyeloff, then Maria Karpovna and her daughter, and lastly the priest and Anton Ivanitch. At some distance followed the carriage. The coachman could scarcely hold in the horses. All the servants surrounded Yevsay at the gates.

“Good-bye, Yevsay Ivanitch; good-bye, old boy, don’t forget us ! ” was heard on all sides.

“Good-bye, brothers, good-bye, don’t remember ill against me.”

“Good-bye, Yevsushka, good-bye, my darling,” said his mother, hugging him. “Here is a holy image for you; it is my blessing. Remember the faith, Yevsay. Don’t give way to drink or thieving ; serve the master faithfully and well. Good-bye, good-bye! ”

She hid her face in her apron and went away.

“Good-bye, mother,” said Yevsay lazily.

A little girl of twelve rushed up to him.

“Say good-bye to your little sister! ” said an old woman.

“And where have you come from ?” said Yevsay, kissing her, “well, good-bye, good-bye! Run home now to the hut, bare-legs.”

Agrafena stood last of all, apart from the others. Her face was livid.

“Good-bye, Agrafena Ivanovna!” said Yevsay, slowly, raising his voice and holding out his hand to her.

She let him embrace her, but did not respond to his embrace, only her face worked.

“Here’s something for you!” she said, taking a little bag of something from under her apron and thrusting it upon him. “Well of course you will walk out with the Petersburg girls, there ! ” she said, with a side-long glance at him. And in that glance was apparent all her suffering and her jealousy.

“I walk out, I ? ” began Yevsay. “God blast me, strike me blind, may I sink into the earth, if I do any such thing there.”

“All right, all right! ” muttered Agrafena, incredulously, “but inside you — ugh ! ”

“Ah, I’d almost forgotten ! ” said Yevsay, taking from his pocket a greasy pack of cards. “For a keepsake, Agrafena Ivanovna, to you; you know you could not get any here.”

She stretched out her hand.

“Give it to me, Yevsay Ivanitch!” screamed Proshka out of the crowd.

“You! I’ll be damned before I give it to you,” and he put the cards into his pocket.

“But give them to me, stupid ! ” said Agrafena.

“No, Agrafena Ivanovna, you may do as you like, but I won’t give you them ; you would play with him. Good-bye !”

Without looking round he waved his hand and slowly moved off to the carriage which he looked as if he could have carried off on his shoulders — Alexandr, coachman and horses and all.

“Cursed fellow! ” said Agrafena, looking after him and wiping away her falling tears with a corner of her apron.

At the forest a halt was made. While Anna Pavlovna was sobbing and saying good-by to her son, Anton Ivanitch patted one of the horses on the neck, then took him by the nose and shook him backwards and forwards, with which the horse seemed rather displeased, snorting and showing his teeth.

“Tighten the girth on the off-horse,’' said he to the coachman, “you see the pad is on one side.”

The coachman looked at the pad and seeing that it was in its place did not get off the box but only straightened the breach a little with his whip.

“Well, it’s time to start, God be with you ! ” said Anton Ivanitch. “Leave off tormenting yourself, Anna Pavlovna I And you take your seat, Alexandr Fedoritch; you must reach Shishkov in daylight. Farewell, farewell! God give you happiness, rank, honours, all things good and happy, every kind of wealth and blessing ! Now, in God’s name, whip up the horses, but see you drive quietly along the slope ! ’’ he added turning to the coachman.

Alexandr took his seat in the carriage dissolved in tears, but Yevsay went up to his mistress, knelt down at her feet and kissed her hand. She gave him a five-rouble note.

“See, Yevsay, remember, be a good servant and I will marry you to Agrafena, but if not-------” She could say no more. Yevsay got on to the box. The coachman wearied with the long delay, seemed to revive; he grasped his hat, set it straight on his head and took the reins ; the horses set off at first at a slight trot. He whipped the trace horses in turn one after the other, with a bound they began to draw and the troika flew along the road to the forest. The crowd of escorting friends stood silent and motionless till the carriage had passed altogether out of sight.

Anton Ivanitch was the first to recover himself.

“Well, now we must go home,” he said.

Alexandr looked back from the carriage as long as anything was to be seen, then fell with his face hidden in the cushions.

“Do not leave me in my trouble, Anton Ivanitch,” said Anna Pavlovna; “dine here.”

“Very good, ma’am, I am ready ; if you like I will sup here too.”

“Yes, and you might stay the night as well.”

“How can that be ? the funeral is-to-morrow.”

“Ah yes; well, I must not keep you. Remember me to Fedosia Petrovna ; tell her that I grieve from my heart for her affliction, and I should have visited her myself, but God has sent, tell her, sorrow upon me — I have just parted with my son.”

“I will tell her, I will tell her, I will not forget.”

“Ah, Sashenka, my darling ! ” she murmured looking round. “There is nothing to be seen of him, he is gone.”

Madame Adouev sat the whole day silent, and ate no dinner or supper. Anton Ivanitch talked and dined and supped to make up for her.

“Where is he now, my darling ? ” was all she could utter from time to time.

“By now he must be at Nefaeva. No, what am I saying? — he is not yet at Nefaeva, but not far off; there he will drink tea,” answered Anton Ivanitch.

“No, he never takes tea at this time.”

And so Anna Pavlovna in spirit travelled with him. Afterwards, when according to her calculations he must have reached Petersburg, she divided her time between praying, telling fortunes on cards and talking to Maria Karpovna.

And he ?

We shall meet him again at Petersburg.

CHAPTER II

Piotr Ivanitch Adouev, our hero’s uncle, had, like him, been sent to Petersburg when twenty years old by his elder brother, Alexandr’s father, and had lived there uninterruptedly for seventeen years. He had not kept up a correspondence with his relatives after his brother’s death, and Anna Pavlovna had seen nothing of him since then, as he had sold his small property not far from her estate.

In Petersburg he passed for a wealthy man, and perhaps not without good grounds ; he had an appointment under a certain influential personage, a secretary of special commissions, and had ribbons to wear in his buttonhole; he had a fine suite of rooms in a good street, kept three men and as many horses. He was not old, but what is called “a man in the prime of life ” — between thirty-five and forty. But he did not care to talk of his age, not from petty vanity, but from a sort of deliberate calculation, as though with an idea of insuring his life on the easiest terms.. Any way there was no sign in his manner of concealing his age, of any frivolous pretensions to pleasing the fair sex.

He was a tall, well-made man, with large regular features and a swarthy complexion, a smooth graceful carriage, and dignified but agreeable manners — one of those men who are generally described by the term bel homme.