Avdey Ivanovitch lay without budging on the sofa,
staring at the ceiling. Kister lighted a pipe,
went to the window, and began drumming on the panes
with his fingers.
‘So they’ve been talking about me?’
Avdey asked suddenly.
‘They have,’ Kister responded with meaning.
‘What did they say?’
‘Oh, they talked. There’re very anxious
to make your acquaintance.’
‘Which of them’s that?’
‘I say, what curiosity!’
Avdey called his servant, and ordered his horse to
be saddled.
‘Where are you off to?’
‘The riding-school.’
‘Well, good-bye. So we’re going to
the Perekatovs’, eh?’
‘All right, if you like,’ Lutchkov said
lazily, stretching.
‘Bravo, old man!’ cried Kister, and he
went out into the street, pondered, and sighed deeply.
Masha was just approaching the drawing-room door when
the arrival of Kister and Lutchkov was announced.
She promptly returned to her own room, and went up
to the looking-glass.... Her heart was throbbing
violently. A girl came to summon her to the drawing-room.
Masha drank a little water, stopped twice on the stairs,
and at last went down. Mr. Perekatov was not
at home. Nenila Makarievna was sitting on the
sofa; Lutchkov was sitting in an easy-chair, wearing
his uniform, with his hat on his knees; Kister was
near him. They both got up on Masha’s entrance—Kister
with his usual friendly smile, Lutchkov with a solemn
and constrained air. She bowed to them in confusion,
and went up to her mother. The first ten minutes
passed off favourably. Masha recovered herself,
and gradually began to watch Lutchkov. To the
questions addressed to him by the lady of the house,
he answered briefly, but uneasily; he was shy, like
all egoistic people. Nenila Makarievna suggested
a stroll in the garden to her guests, but did not herself
go beyond the balcony. She did not consider it
essential never to lose sight of her daughter, and
to be constantly hobbling after her with a fat reticule
in her hands, after the fashion of many mothers in
the steppes. The stroll lasted rather a long
while. Masha talked more with Kister, but did
not dare to look either at him or at Lutchkov.
Avdey Ivanovitch did not address a remark to her;
Kister’s voice showed agitation. He laughed
and chattered a little over-much.... They reached
the stream. A couple of yards or so from the bank
there was a water-lily, which seemed to rest on the
smooth surface of the water, encircled by its broad,
round leaves.
‘What a beautiful flower!’ observed Masha.
She had hardly uttered these words when Lutchkov pulled
out his sword, clutched with one hand at the frail
twigs of a willow, and, bending his whole body over
the water, cut off the head of the flower. ’It’s
deep here, take care!’ Masha cried in terror.
Lutchkov with the tip of his sword brought the flower
to the bank, at her very feet. She bent down,
picked up the flower, and gazed with tender, delighted
amazement at Avdey. ‘Bravo!’ cried
Kister. ‘And I can’t swim...’
Lutchkov observed abruptly. Masha did not like
that remark. ‘What made him say that?’
she wondered.
