reat-grandfather, Andrei Lavretzky; the dark,
sallow face was barely discernible against the warped and blackened
background; the small, vicious eyes gazed surlily from beneath pendent,
swollen lids; the black hair, devoid of powder, rose in a brush over the
heavy, deeply-seamed brow. On the corner of the portrait hung a wreath of
dusty immortelles. "Glafira Petrovna herself was pleased to weave it,"
announced Anton. In the bedchamber rose a narrow bed, under a tester of
ancient, striped material, of very excellent quality; a mountain of faded
pillows, and a thin quilted coverlet, lay on the bed, and by the head of
the bed hung an image of the Presentation in the Temple of the All-Holy
Birthgiver of God, the very same image to which the old spinster, as she
lay dying alone and forgotten by every one, had pressed for the last
time, her lips which were already growing cold. The toilet-table, of
inlaid wood with brass trimmings and a crooked mirror with tarnished
gilding, stood by the window. Alongside the bedroom was the room for the
holy pictures, a tiny chamber, with bare walls and a heavy shrine of
images in the corner; on the floor lay a small, threadbare rug, spotted
with wax; Glafira Petrovna had been wont to make her prostrations upon
it. Anton went off with Lavretzky's lackey to open the stable and
carriage-house; in his stead, there presented herself an old woman,
almost of the same age as he, with a kerchief bound round her head, down
to her very brows; her head trembled, and her eyes gazed dully, but
expressed zeal, and a long-established habit of serving with assiduity,
and, at the same time, a certain respectful commiseration. She kissed
Lavretzky's hand, and paused at the door, in anticipation of orders. He
positively was unable to recall her name; he could not even remember
whether he had ever seen her. It turned out that her name was Apraxyeya;
forty years before, that same Glafira Petrovna had banished her from
the manor-house service, and had ordered her to attend to the fowls;
however, she said little,--as though she had outlived her mind,--and only
looked on cringingly. In addition to these two old people, and three
potbellied brats in long shirts, Anton's great-grandchildren, there
dwelt in the service-rooms of the manor a one-armed little old peasant,
who was exempt from compulsory service; he made a drumming noise like a
woodcock when he spoke, and was not capable of doing anything. Not much
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