teresting nonsense, for the fair girl looked at his well-fed face
condescendingly and asked indifferently, "Really?" And from that
uninterested "Really?" the setter, had he been intelligent, might
have concluded that she would never call him to heel.

The piano struck up; the melancholy strains of a valse floated out
of the wide open windows, and every one, for some reason, remembered
that it was spring, a May evening. Every one was conscious of the
fragrance of roses, of lilac, and of the young leaves of the poplar.
Ryabovitch, in whom the brandy he had drunk made itself felt, under
the influence of the music stole a glance towards the window, smiled,
and began watching the movements of the women, and it seemed to him
that the smell of roses, of poplars, and lilac came not from the
garden, but from the ladies' faces and dresses.

Von Rabbek's son invited a scraggy-looking young lady to dance, and
waltzed round the room twice with her. Lobytko, gliding over the
parquet floor, flew up to the lilac young lady and whirled her away.
Dancing began. . . . Ryabovitch stood near the door among those who
were not dancing and looked on. He had never once danced in his
whole life, and he had never once in his life put his arm round the
waist of a respectable woman. He was highly delighted that a man
should in the sight of all take a girl he did not know round the
waist and offer her his shoulder to put her hand on, but he could
not imagine himself in the position of such a man. There were times
when he envied the boldness and swagger of his companions and was
inwardly wretched; the consciousness that he was timid, that he was
round-shouldered and uninteresting, that he had a long waist and
lynx-like whiskers, had deeply mortified him, but with years he had
grown used to this feeling, and now, looking at his comrades dancing
or loudly talking, he no longer envied them, but only felt touched
and mournful.

When the quadrille began, young Von Rabbek came up to those who
were not dancing and invited two officers to have a game at billiards.
The officers accepted and went with him out of the drawing-room.
Ryabovitch, having nothing to do and wishing to take part in the
general movement, slouched after them. From the big drawing-room
they went into the little drawing-room, then into a narrow corridor
with a glass roof, and thence into a room in which on their entrance
three sleepy-looking footmen jumped up quickly from the sofa. At