Konstantin Diomiditch looked round. There really
were Vanya and Petya, Darya Mihailovna’s sons,
running along the road; after them walked their tutor,
Bassistoff, a young man of two-and-twenty, who had
only just left college. Bassistoff was a well-grown
youth, with a simple face, a large nose, thick lips,
and small pig’s eyes, plain and awkward, but
kind, good, and upright. He dressed untidily and
wore his hair long—not from affectation,
but from laziness; he liked eating and he liked sleeping,
but he also liked a good book, and an earnest conversation,
and he hated Pandalevsky from the depths of his soul.
Darya Mihailovna’s children worshipped Bassistoff,
and yet were not in the least afraid of him; he was
on a friendly footing with all the rest of the household,
a fact which was not altogether pleasing to its mistress,
though she was fond of declaring that for her social
prejudices did not exist.
‘Good-morning, my dears,’ began Konstantin
Diomiditch, ’how early you have come for your
walk to-day! But I,’ he added, turning to
Bassistoff, ’have been out a long while already;
it’s my passion—to enjoy nature.’
‘We saw how you were enjoying nature,’
muttered Bassistoff.
‘You are a materialist, God knows what you are
imagining! I know you.’ When Pandalevsky
spoke to Bassistoff or people like him, he grew slightly
irritated, and pronounced the letter s quite
clearly, even with a slight hiss.
‘Why, were you asking your way of that girl,
am I to suppose?’ said Bassistoff, shifting
his eyes to right and to left.
He felt that Pandalevsky was looking him straight
in the face, and this fact was exceedingly unpleasant
to him. ’I repeat, a materialist and nothing
more.’
‘You certainly prefer to see only the prosaic
side in everything.’
‘Boys!’ cried Bassistoff suddenly, ’do
you see that willow at the corner? let’s see
who can get to it first. One! two! three! and
away!’
The boys set off at full speed to the willow.
Bassistoff rushed after them.
‘What a lout!’ thought Pandalevsky, ’he
is spoiling those boys. A perfect peasant!’
And looking with satisfaction at his own neat and
elegant figure, Konstantin Diomiditch struck his coat-sleeve
twice with his open hand, pulled up his collar, and
went on his way. When he had reached his own
room, he put on an old dressing-gown and sat down with
an anxious face to the piano.
Darya Mihailovna’s house was regarded as almost
the first in the whole province. It was a huge
stone mansion, built after designs of Rastrelli in
the taste of last century, and in a commanding position
on the summit of a hill, at whose base flowed one of
the principal rivers of central Russia. Darya
Mihailovna herself was a wealthy and distinguished
lady, the widow of a privy councillor. Pandalevsky
said of her, that she knew all Europe and all Europe
