'Not a bit; but it isn't necessary.'

'Not necessary?'

'Oh no, it's not necessary. You need only take a sheet of paper and
write at the top "A Ballad," then begin like this, "Heigho, alack, my
destiny!" or "the Cossack Nalivaiko was sitting on a hill and then on
the mountain, under the green tree the birds are singing, grae, voropae,
gop, gop!" or something of that kind. And the thing's done. Print it
and publish it. The Little Russian will read it, drop his head into his
hands and infallibly burst into tears--he is such a sensitive soul!'

'Good heavens!' cried Bassistoff. 'What are you saying? It's too absurd
for anything. I have lived in Little Russia, I love it and know the
language... "grae, grae, voropae" is absolute nonsense.'

'It may be, but the Little Russian will weep all the same. You speak
of the "language."... But is there a Little Russian language? Is it a
language, in your opinion? an independent language? I would pound my
best friend in a mortar before I'd agree to that.'

Bassistoff was about to retort.

'Leave him alone!' said Darya Mihailovna, 'you know that you will hear
nothing but paradoxes from him.'

Pigasov smiled ironically. A footman came in and announced the arrival
of Alexandra Pavlovna and her brother.

Darya Mihailovna rose to meet her guests.

'How do you do, Alexandrine?' she began, going up to her, 'how good of
you to come!... How are you, Sergei Pavlitch?'

Volintsev shook hands with Darya Mihailovna and went up to Natalya
Alexyevna.

'But how about that baron, your new acquaintance, is he coming to-day?'
asked Pigasov.

'Yes, he is coming.'

'He is a great philosopher, they say; he is just brimming over with
Hegel, I suppose?'

Darya Mihailovna made no reply, and making Alexandra Pavlovna sit down
on the sofa, established herself near her.

'Philosophies,' continued Pigasov, 'are elevated points of view! That's
another abomination of mine; these elevated points of view. And what can
one see from above? Upon my soul, if you want to buy a horse, you don't
look at it from a steeple!'

'This baron was going to bring you an essay?' said Alexandra Pavlovna.

'Yes, an essay,' replied Darya Mihailovna, with exaggerated
carelessness, 'on the relation of commerce to manufactures in Russia.
... But don't be afraid; we will not read it here.... I did not invite
you for that. _Le baron est aussi aimable que savant_. And he speaks
Russian beautifully! _C'est un vrai torrent.