smoothly and placidly; she is satisfied, and, when people
discuss love, she says that for family life not love nor passion is
wanted, but affection. But once the music played suddenly, and, inside
her heart, everything broke up like ice in spring: she remembered Z.
and her love for him, and she thought with despair that her life was
ruined, spoilt for ever, and that she was unhappy. Then it happened
to her with the New Year greetings; when people wished her "New
Happiness," she indeed longed for new happiness.

* * * * *

Z. goes to a doctor, who examines him and finds that he is suffering
from heart disease. Z. abruptly changes his way of life, takes
medicine, can only talk about his disease; the whole town knows that
he has heart disease and all the doctors, whom he regularly consults,
say that he has got heart disease. He does not marry, gives up amateur
theatricals, does not drink, and when he walks does so slowly and
hardly breathes. Eleven years later he has to go to Moscow and there
he consults a specialist. The latter finds that his heart is perfectly
sound. Z. is overjoyed, but he can no longer return to a normal life,
for he has got accustomed to going to bed early and to walking slowly,
and he is bored if he cannot speak of his disease. The only result is
that he gets to hate doctors--that is all.

* * * * *

A woman is fascinated not by art, but by the noise made by those who
have to do with art.

* * * * *

N., a dramatic critic, has a mistress X., an actress. Her benefit
night. The play is rotten, the acting poor, but N. has to praise.
He writes briefly: "The play and the leading actress had an enormous
success. Particulars to-morrow." As he wrote the last two words, he
gave a sigh of relief. Next day he goes to X.; she opens the door,
allows him to kiss and embrace her, and in a cutting tone says:
"Particulars to-morrow."

* * * * *

In Kislovodsk or some other watering-place Z. picked up a girl of
twenty-two; she was poor, straightforward, he took pity on her and,
in addition to her fee, he left twenty-five roubles on the chest of
drawers; he left her room with the feeling of a man who has done
a good deed. The next time he visited her, he noticed an expensive
ash-tray and a man's fur cap, bought out of his twenty-five
roubles--the girl again starving, her cheeks hollow.