r penetrating to his soul, nor shaping
itself in any firm convictions.... But, indeed, could one expect
convictions from a young man of fifty years ago, when even at the
present day we have not succeeded in attaining them? The guests, too,
who frequented his father's house, were oppressed by Ivan Petrovitch's
presence; he regarded them with loathing, they were afraid of him; and
with his sister Glafira, who was twelve years older than he, he could
not get on at all. This Glafira was a strange creature; she was ugly,
crooked, and spare, with severe, wide-open eyes, and thin compressed
lips. In her face, her voice, and her quick angular movements, she took
after her grandmother, the gipsy, Andrei's wife. Obstinate and fond
of power, she would not even hear of marriage. The return of Ivan
Petrovitch did not fit in with her plans; while the Princess Kubensky
kept him with her, she had hoped to receive at least half of her
father's estate; in her avarice, too, she was like her grandmother.
Besides, Glafira envied her brother, he was so well educated, spoke
such good French with a Parisian accent, while she was scarcely able
to pronounce "bon jour" or "comment vous portez-vous." To be sure, her
parents did not know any French, but that was no comfort to her. Ivan
Petrovitch did not know what to do with himself for wretchedness and
ennui; he had spent hardly a year in the country, but that year seemed
to him as long as ten. The only consolation he could find was in talking
to his mother, and he would sit for whole hours in her low-pitched
rooms, listening to the good woman's simple-hearted prattle, and eating
preserves. It so happened that among Anna Pavlovna's maids there was one
very pretty girl with clear soft eyes and refined features, Malanya by
name, an modest intelligent creature. She took his fancy at first sight,
and he fell in love with her: he fell in love with her timid movements,
her bashful answers, her gentle voice and gentle smile; every day she
seemed sweeter to him. And she became devoted to Ivan Petrovitch
with all the strength of her soul, as none but Russian girls can be
devoted--and she gave herself to him. In the large household of a
country squire nothing can long be kept a secret; soon every one knew of
the love between the young master and Malanya; the gossip even reached
the ears of Piotr Andreitch himself. Under other circumstances, he would
probably have paid no attention to a matter of so little imp