y. The
door was opened by a tall, stout, drab-coloured flunkey with black
whiskers, who in a sleepy, churlish, and apathetic voice, such as
only flunkeys use in addressing other flunkeys, asked me what I
wanted. Before I had time to answer, a lady dressed in black came
hurriedly into the hall. She screwed up her eyes and looked at me.

"Is Zinaida Fyodorovna at home?" I asked.

"That is me," said the lady.

"A letter from Georgy Ivanitch."

She tore the letter open impatiently, and holding it in both hands,
so that I saw her sparkling diamond rings, she began reading. I
made out a pale face with soft lines, a prominent chin, and long
dark lashes. From her appearance I should not have judged the lady
to be more than five and twenty.

"Give him my thanks and my greetings," she said when she had finished
the letter. "Is there any one with Georgy Ivanitch?" she asked
softly, joyfully, and as though ashamed of her mistrust.

"Two gentlemen," I answered. "They're writing something."

"Give him my greetings and thanks," she repeated, bending her head
sideways, and, reading the letter as she walked, she went noiselessly
out. I saw few women at that time, and this lady of whom I had a
passing glimpse made an impression on me. As I walked home I recalled
her face and the delicate fragrance about her, and fell to dreaming.
By the time I got home Orlov had gone out.

II

And so my relations with my employer were quiet and peaceful, but
still the unclean and degrading element which I so dreaded on
becoming a footman was conspicuous and made itself felt every day.
I did not get on with Polya. She was a well-fed and pampered hussy
who adored Orlov because he was a gentleman and despised me because
I was a footman. Probably, from the point of view of a real flunkey
or cook, she was fascinating, with her red cheeks, her turned-up
nose, her coquettish glances, and the plumpness, one might almost
say fatness, of her person. She powdered her face, coloured her
lips and eyebrows, laced herself in, and wore a bustle, and a bangle
made of coins. She walked with little ripping steps; as she walked
she swayed, or, as they say, wriggled her shoulders and back. The
rustle of her skirts, the creaking of her stays, the jingle her
bangle and the vulgar smell of lip salve, toilet vinegar, and scent
stolen from her master, aroused me whilst I was doing the rooms
with her in the morning a sensation as though I were taking part
with her in