of him, and never knew what to say in his presence.
But wasn't Pigasov nasty in his ridicule of him to-day?'

'Pigasov?' responded Lezhnyov. 'That was just why I stood up for Rudin
so warmly, because Pigasov was here. He dare to call Rudin a sponge
indeed! Why, I consider the part he plays--Pigasov I mean--is a hundred
times worse! He has an independent property, and he sneers at every one,
and yet see how he fawns upon wealthy or distinguished people! Do you
know that that fellow, who abuses everything and every one with such
scorn, and attacks philosophy and women, do you know that when he was in
the service, he took bribes and that sort of thing! Ugh! That's what he
is!'

'Is it possible?' cried Alexandra Pavlovna, 'I should never have
expected that! Misha,' she added, after a short pause, 'I want to ask
you----'

'What?'

'What do you think, will my brother be happy with Natalya?'

'How can I tell you?... there's every likelihood of it. She will take
the lead... there's no reason to hide the fact between us... she is
cleverer than he is; but he's a capital fellow, and loves her with all
his soul. What more would you have? You see we love one another and are
happy, aren't we?'

Alexandra Pavlovna smiled and pressed his hand.

On the same day on which all that has been described took place in
Alexandra Pavlovna's house, in one of the remote districts of Russia, a
wretched little covered cart, drawn by three village horses was crawling
along the high road in the sultry heat. On the front seat was perched
a grizzled peasant in a ragged cloak, with his legs hanging slanting
on the shaft; he kept flicking with the reins, which were of cord,
and shaking the whip. Inside the cart there was sitting on a shaky
portmanteau a tall man in a cap and old dusty cloak. It was Rudin.
He sat with bent head, the peak of his cap pulled over his eyes. The
jolting of the cart threw him from side to side; but he seemed utterly
unconscious, as though he were asleep. At last he drew himself up.

'When are we coming to a station?' he inquired of the peasant sitting in
front.

'Just over the hill, little father,' said the peasant, with a still more
violent shaking of the reins. 'There's a mile and a half farther to go,
not more.... Come! there! look about you.... I'll teach you,' he added
in a shrill voice, setting to work to whip the right-hand horse.

'You seem to drive very badly,' observed Rudin; 'we have been crawling
alon