hristmas," she said, and she kissed Anna Akimovna on the
shoulder. "It's all I could do, all I could do to get to you, my
kind friends." She kissed Auntie on the shoulder. "I should have
come to you this morning, but I went in to some good people to rest
on the way. 'Stay, Spiridonovna, stay,' they said, and I did not
notice that evening was coming on."

As she did not eat meat, they gave her salmon and caviare. She ate
looking from under her eyelids at the company, and drank three
glasses of vodka. When she had finished she said a prayer and bowed
down to Anna Akimovna's feet.

They began to play a game of "kings," as they had done the year
before, and the year before that, and all the servants in both
stories crowded in at the doors to watch the game. Anna Akimovna
fancied she caught a glimpse once or twice of Mishenka, with a
patronizing smile on his face, among the crowd of peasant men and
women. The first to be king was Stinging Beetle, and Anna Akimovna
as the soldier paid her tribute; and then Auntie was king and Anna
Akimovna was peasant, which excited general delight, and Agafyushka
was prince, and was quite abashed with pleasure. Another game was
got up at the other end of the table--played by the two Mashas,
Varvarushka, and the sewing-maid Marfa Ptrovna, who was waked on
purpose to play "kings," and whose face looked cross and sleepy.

While they were playing they talked of men, and of how difficult
it was to get a good husband nowadays, and which state was to be
preferred--that of an old maid or a widow.

"You are a handsome, healthy, sturdy lass," said Stinging Beetle
to Anna Akimovna. "But I can't make out for whose sake you are
holding back."

"What's to be done if nobody will have me?"

"Or maybe you have taken a vow to remain a maid?" Stinging Beetle
went on, as though she did not hear. "Well, that's a good deed. . . .
Remain one," she repeated, looking intently and maliciously at
her cards. "All right, my dear, remain one. . . . Yes . . . only
maids, these saintly maids, are not all alike." She heaved a sigh
and played the king. "Oh, no, my girl, they are not all alike! Some
really watch over themselves like nuns, and butter would not melt
in their mouths; and if such a one does sin in an hour of weakness,
she is worried to death, poor thing! so it would be a sin to condemn
her. While others will go dressed in black and sew their shroud,
and yet love rich old men on the sly. Yes, y-es, my cana