II
There were sounds of applause. The young man had finished playing. Olga Mihailovna remembered her guests and hurried into the drawing-room.
"I have so enjoyed your playing," she said, going up to the piano. "I have so enjoyed it. You have a wonder- ful talent! But don't you think our piano's out of tune?"
At that moment the two schoolboys walked into the room, accompanied by the student.
"My goodness! Mitya and Kolya," Olga Mihailovna drawled joyfully, going to meet them: "How big you have grown! One would not know you! But where is your mamma?"
"I congratulate you on the name-day," the student began in a free-and-easy tone, "and I wish you all hap- piness. Yekaterina Andreyevna sends her congratula- tions and begs you to excuse her. She is not very well."
"How unkind of her! I have been expecting her all day. Is it long since you left Petersburg?" Olga Mihail- ovna asked the student. 'What kind of weather have you there now?" And without waiting for an answer, she looked cordially at the schoolboys and repeated:
"How tall they have grown! It is not long since they used to come with their nurse, and they are at school already! The old grow older while the young grow up- . . . Have you had dinner?"
"Oh, please don't trouble!" said the student.
"Why, you have not had dinner?"
"For goodness' sake, don't trouble!"
"But I suppose you are hungry?" Olga Mihailovna said it in a harsh, rude voice, with impatience and vexation—it escaped her unawares, but at once she coughed, smiled, and flushed crimson. "How tall they have grown!" she said softly.
"Please don't trouble!" the student said once more.
The student begged her not to trouble; the boys said nothing; obviously all three of them were hungry. Olga Mihailovna took them into the dining-room and told Vasily to lay the table.
"How unkind of your mamma!" she said as she made them sit down. "She has quite forgotten me. Unkind, unkind, unkind . • , you must tell her so. What are you studying?" she asked the student.
"Medicine."
'Well, I have a weakness for doctors, only fancy. I am very sorry my husband is not a doctor. What courage anyone must have to perform an operation or dissect a corpse, for instance! Horrible! Aren't you frightened? I believe I should die of terror! Of course, you will have sorrie vodka?"
"Please don't trouble."
"After your journey you must, you must have a drink. Though I am a woman, even I drink sometimes. And Mitya and Kolya will have some Malaga. It's not a strong wine; you needn't be afraid of it. What fine fel- lows they are, really! They'll be thinking of getting mar- ried next."
Olga Mihailovna talked without ceasing; she knew by experience that when she had guests to entertain it was far easier and more comfortable to talk than to listen. When you talk there is no need to strain your attention, to think of answers to questions, and to change your expression of face. But unawares she asked the student a serious question; the student began a lengthy speech and she was forced to listen. The student knew that she had once been at the university, and so tried to seem a serious person as he talked to her.
'What subject are you studying?" she asked, for- getting that she had already put that question to him.
"Medicine."
Olga Mihailovna now remembered that she had been away from the ladies for a long while.
"Yes? Then I suppose you are going to be a doctor?" she said, getting up. "That's splendid. I am sorry I did not go in for medicine myself. So you will finish your dinner here, gentlemen, and then come into the garden. I will introduce you to the young ladies."
She went out and glanced at her watch: it was five minutes to six. And she wondered that the time had gone so slowly, and thought with horror that there were six more hours before midnight, when the party would break up. How could she get through those six hours? What phrases could she find? How should she behave to ner husband?
There was not a soul in the drawing-room or on the veranda. All the guests were scattered about the garden.
"I shall have to suggest a walk in the birchwood be- fore tea, or that we take out the rowboats," thought Olga Mihailovna, hurrying to the croquet la^, from which came the sounds of voices and laughter. "And sit the old people down to vint. • . ." She met Grigory the footman coming from the croquet lawn with empty bottles.
'Where are the ladies?" she asked.
"In the raspberry patch. The master's there, too."
"Oh, good heavens!" someone on the croquet la^ shouted with exasperation. "I have told you a thousand times over! To know the Bulgarians you must see them! You can't judge from the papers!"
Either because of this outburst or for some other rea- son, Olga Mihailovna was suddenly aware of a terrible weakness all over, especially in her legs and in her shoulders. She felt she could not bear to speak, to listen, or to move.
"Grigory," she said languidly and with an effort, "when you have to serve tea or anything, please don't appeal to me, don't ask me anything, don't speak of any- thing. . . . Do it all yourself, and . . . and don't make a noise with your feet, I entreat you. . • • I can't, be- cause . . ."
Without finishing, she walked on towards the croquet lawn, but on the way she thought of the ladies and turned towards the raspberry-bushes. The sky, the air, and the trees looked gloomy again and tlueatened rain; it was hot and stifling. An immense flock of crows, fore- seeing a storm, flew cawing over the garden. The paths were more overgrown, darker, and narrower as they got nearer the kitchen garden. On one of them, buried in a thick tangle of wild pear, crabapple, sorrel, young oaks, and hop-bine, clouds of tiny black flies swarmed round Olga Mihailovna. She covered her face with her hands and began forcing herself to think of the little creature. . • . There floated through her imagination the figures of Grigory, Mitya, Kolya, the faces of the peasants who had come in the morning to present their congratula- tions. . . .