“What nonsense! On account of a few idle words! But I’m not that kind of a man at all. I am willing to go to see him, if you like.”

“He will not permit that: he will come to you,” said Tchitchikoff recovering himself. As he regained his courage he thought “What a chance! I came to the general’s just at the right time! But my tongue has been rattling away like a fool’s.”

At this moment a rustling sound became audible in the study. A walnut-wood door opened, and a living form appeared, holding the bronze knob in its hand. If a transparent picture, brilliantly illuminated by lights from behind, had suddenly made its appearance in the dark room, it would not have produced a more startling effect. The girl who thus presented herself had evidently entered for the purpose of saying something to the general, but had stopped short on catching sight of the stranger. It seemed as though a ray of sunshine had flitted in with her, and as though the general’s frowning study had burst into a laugh. Straight and light as an arrow, she seemed taller than most of her sex. But this was an illusion, for she was not of such lofty stature. It was the result of the remarkably harmonious combination of all the proportions of her body. Her gown fitted her as though the very best dressmakers had taken counsel together as to how they might best adorn her. But this also was an illusion. She dressed herself: she pricked her needle into some material or other, and it at once draped and arranged itself around her in such loops and folds that, if she had been transferred to canvas with all these bewitching draperies, she would have been pronounced the copy of a work of genius. All fashionably dressed young ladies would have appeared like the motley products of the rag-market, in her presence. However, despite all her comeliness, she was somewhat too thin and slender.

“Let me introduce my spoiled pet to you,” said the general, turning to Tchitchikoff. “But I do not yet know your names.”

“Is the name of a man who has never distinguished himself by his merits of any consequence?” asked Tchitchikoff, modestly dropping his head.

“Still, it is necessary to know.”

“Pavel Ivanovitch, your excellency,” replied Tchitchikoff, bowing with almost the skill of a military man, and skipping backwards with the lightness of an india-rubber ball.

“Ulinka,” said the general, turning to his daughter, “Pavel Ivanovitch has just imparted some interesting news to me. Our neighbour, Tentyotnikoff, is not at all so stupid a fellow as we supposed. He is occupied with a rather important work—the history of the generals of 1812.”

“But who thought that he was a stupid man?” hastily remarked the girl. “No one, probably, excepting Vishnepokromoff, whom you put faith in, and who is a base and empty-headed fellow.”

“Why is he base? He is rather empty-headed; that’s true,” said the general.

“He is not only empty-headed, but mean and crafty. A man who has insulted his brothers and driven his sister out of the paternal house, must be a mean fellow.”

“But that is only what people say.”

“Such things are not said without cause. I do not understand, father, how anyone with your kind soul, and with such a rare heart as you have, can receive a man who is as far removed from you as heaven is from earth, and whom you yourself know to be bad.”

“There, you see,” said the general, smiling at Tchitchikoff, “that’s the way she and I always quarrel with each other”; and turning to his daughter, he continued, “But, my love, I cannot drive him away.”

“Why should you drive him away? But why show him so much attention? Why pet him?”