‘Do you admire that sort of woman, prince?’ he asked, looking intently at him. He seemed to have some special object in the question.
‘It’s a wonderful face,’ said the prince, ‘and I feel sure that her destiny is not by any means an ordinary, uneventful one. Her face is smiling enough, but she must have suffered
terribly— hasn’t she? Her eyes show it—those two bones there, the little points under her eyes, just where the cheek begins. It’s a proud face too, terribly proud! And I—I can’t say whether she is good and kind, or not. Oh, if she be but good! That would make all well!’
‘And would you marry a woman like that, now?’ con-tinued Gania, never taking his excited eyes off the prince’s face.
‘I cannot marry at all,’ said the latter. ‘I am an invalid.’ ‘Would Rogojin marry her, do you think?’
‘Why not? Certainly he would, I should think. He would marry her tomorrow!—marry her tomorrow and murder her in a week!’
Hardly had the prince uttered the last word when Ga-nia gave such a fearful shudder that the prince almost cried out.
‘What’s the matter?’ said he, seizing Gania’s hand.
‘Your highness! His excellency begs your presence in her excellency’s apartments!’ announced the footman, appear-ing at the door.
The prince immediately followed the man out of the room.
IV
ALL three of the Miss Epanchins were fine, healthy girls, wellgrown, with good shoulders and busts, and strong—almost masculine—hands; and, of course, with all the above attributes, they enjoyed capital appetites, of
which they were not in the least ashamed.
Elizabetha Prokofievna sometimes informed the girls that they were a little too candid in this matter, but in spite of their outward deference to their mother these three young women, in solemn conclave, had long agreed to modify the unquestioning obedience which they had been in the habit of according to her; and Mrs. General Epanchin had judged it better to say nothing about it, though, of course, she was well aware of the fact.
It is true that her nature sometimes rebelled against these dictates of reason, and that she grew yearly more capricious and impatient; but having a respectful and well-disciplined husband under her thumb at all times, she found it possible, as a rule, to empty any little accumulations of spleen upon his head, and therefore the harmony of the family was kept duly balanced, and things went as smoothly as family mat-ters can.
Mrs. Epanchin had a fair appetite herself, and generally took her share of the capital mid-day lunch which was al-ways served for the girls, and which was nearly as good as
a dinner. The young ladies used to have a cup of coffee each before this meal, at ten o’clock, while still in bed. This was a favourite and unalterable arrangement with them. At half-past twelve, the table was laid in the small dining-room, and occasionally the general himself appeared at the family gathering, if he had time.
Besides tea and coffee, cheese, honey, butter, pan-cakes of various kinds (the lady of the house loved these best), cutlets, and so on, there was generally strong beef soup, and other substantial delicacies.
On the particular morning on which our story has opened, the family had assembled in the dining-room, and were waiting the general’s appearance, the latter having promised to come this day. If he had been one moment late, he would have been sent for at once; but he turned up punc-tually.
As he came forward to wish his wife good-morning and kiss her hands, as his custom was, he observed something in her look which boded ill. He thought he knew the rea-son, and had expected it, but still, he was not altogether comfortable. His daughters advanced to kiss him, too, and though they did not look exactly angry, there was some-thing strange in their expression as well.
The general was, owing to certain circumstances, a little inclined to be too suspicious at home, and needlessly ner-vous; but, as an experienced father and husband, he judged it better to take measures at once to protect himself from any dangers there might be in the air.
However, I hope I shall not interfere with the proper se-
quence of my narrative too much, if I diverge for a moment at this point, in order to explain the mutual relations be-tween General Epanchin’s family and others acting a part in this history, at the time when we take up the thread of their destiny. I have already stated that the general, though he was a man of lowly origin, and of poor education, was, for all that, an experienced and talented husband and father. Among other things, he considered it undesirable to hurry his daughters to the matrimonial altar and to worry them too much with assurances of his paternal wishes for their happiness, as is the custom among parents of many grown-up daughters. He even succeeded in ranging his wife on his side on this question, though he found the feat very dificult to accomplish, because unnatural; but the general’s argu-ments were conclusive, and founded upon obvious facts. The general considered that the girls’ taste and good sense should be allowed to develop and mature deliberately, and that the parents’ duty should merely be to keep watch, in or-der that no strange or undesirable choice be made; but that the selection once effected, both father and mother were bound from that moment to enter heart and soul into the cause, and to see that the matter progressed without hin-drance until the altar should be happily reached.
Besides this, it was clear that the Epanchins’ position gained each year, with geometrical accuracy, both as to fi-nancial solidity and social weight; and, therefore, the longer the girls waited, the better was their chance of making a brilliant match.
But again, amidst the incontrovertible facts just recorded,
one more, equally significant, rose up to confront the fam-ily; and this was, that the eldest daughter, Alexandra, had imperceptibly arrived at her twenty-fifth birthday. Almost at the same moment, Afanasy Ivanovitch Totski, a man of immense wealth, high connections, and good standing, an-nounced his intention of marrying. Afanasy Ivanovitch was a gentleman of fifty-five years of age, artistically gifted, and of most refined tastes. He wished to marry well, and, more-over, he was a keen admirer and judge of beauty.
Now, since Totski had, of late, been upon terms of great cordiality with Epanchin, which excellent relations were in-tensified by the fact that they were, so to speak, partners in several financial enterprises, it so happened that the for-mer now put in a friendly request to the general for counsel with regard to the important step he meditated. Might he suggest, for instance, such a thing as a marriage between himself and one of the general’s daughters?
Evidently the quiet, pleasant current of the family life of the Epanchins was about to undergo a change.
The undoubted beauty of the family, par excellence, was the youngest, Aglaya, as aforesaid. But Totski himself, though an egotist of the extremest type, realized that he had no chance there; Aglaya was clearly not for such as he.
Perhaps the sisterly love and friendship of the three girls had more or less exaggerated Aglaya’s chances of happiness. In their opinion, the latter’s destiny was not merely to be very happy; she was to live in a heaven on earth. Aglaya’s husband was to be a compendium of all the virtues, and of all success, not to speak of fabulous wealth. The two elder
sisters had agreed that all was to be sacrificed by them, if need be, for Aglaya’s sake; her dowry was to be colossal and unprecedented.
The general and his wife were aware of this agreement, and, therefore, when Totski suggested himself for one of the sisters, the parents made no doubt that one of the two el-der girls would probably accept the offer, since Totski would certainly make no dificulty as to dowry. The general valued the proposal very highly. He knew life, and realized what such an offer was worth.
The answer of the sisters to the communication was, if not conclusive, at least consoling and hopeful. It made known that the eldest, Alexandra, would very likely be dis-posed to listen to a proposal.
Alexandra was a good-natured girl, though she had a will of her own. She was intelligent and kind-hearted, and, if she were to marry Totski, she would make him a good wife. She did not care for a brilliant marriage; she was emi-nently a woman calculated to soothe and sweeten the life of any man; decidedly pretty, if not absolutely handsome. What better could Totski wish?
So the matter crept slowly forward. The general and Totski had agreed to avoid any hasty and irrevocable step. Alexandra’s parents had not even begun to talk to their daughters freely upon the subject, when suddenly, as it were, a dissonant chord was struck amid the harmony of the proceedings. Mrs. Epanchin began to show signs of discon-tent, and that was a serious matter. A certain circumstance had crept in, a disagreeable and troublesome factor, which
threatened to overturn the whole business.
This circumstance had come into existence eighteen years before. Close to an estate of Totski’s, in one of the central provinces of Russia, there lived, at that time, a poor gentleman whose estate was of the wretchedest description. This gentleman was noted in the district for his persistent ill-fortune; his name was Barashkoff, and, as regards family and descent, he was vastly superior to Totski, but his estate was mortgaged to the last acre. One day, when he had rid-den over to the town to see a creditor, the chief peasant of his village
