y were ready to be delighted and
make noise at every opportunity. They surrounded Lavretsky at once;
Lenotchka, as an old acquaintance, was the first to mention her own
name, and assured him that in a little while she would have certainly
recognised him. She presented him to the rest of the party, calling
each, even her betrothed, by their pet names. They all trooped through
the dining-room into the drawing-room. The walls of both rooms had been
repapered; but the furniture remained the same. Lavretsky recognised the
piano; even the embroidery-frame in the window was just the same, and in
the same position, and it seemed with the same unfinished embroidery
on it, as eight years ago. They made him sit down in a comfortable
arm-chair; all sat down politely in a circle round him. Questions,
exclamations, and anecdotes followed.

"It's a long time since we have seen you," observed Lenotchka simply,
"and Varvara Pavlovna we have seen nothing of either."

"Well, no wonder!" her brother hastened to interpose. "I carried you off
to Petersburg, and Fedor Ivanitch has been living all the time in the
country."

"Yes, and mamma died soon after then."

"And Marfa Timofyevna," observed Shurotchka.

"And Nastasya Karpovna," added Lenotchka, "and Monsier Lemm."

"What? is Lemm dead?" inquired Lavretsky.

"Yes," replied young Kalitin, "he left here for Odessa; they say some
one enticed him there; and there he died."

"You don't happen to know,... did he leave any music?"

"I don't know; not very likely."

All were silent and looked about them. A slight cloud of melancholy
flitted over all the young faces.

"But Matross is alive," said Lenotchka suddenly.

"And Gedeonovsky," added her brother.

At Gedeonovsky's name a merry laugh broke out at once.

"Yes, he is alive, and as great a liar as ever," Marya Dmitrievna's
son continued; "and only fancy, yesterday this madcap"--pointing to the
school-girl, his wife's sister--"put some pepper in his snuff-box."

"How he did sneeze!" cried Lenotchka, and again there was a burst of
unrestrained laughter.

"We have had news of Lisa lately," observed young Kalitin, and again a
hush fell upon all; "there was good news of her; she is recovering her
health a little now."

"She is still in the same convent?" Lavretsky asked, not without some
effort.

"Yes, still in the same."

"Does she write to you?"

"No, never; but we get news through other people."

A sudden and profound