hout particularly good taste. Heavy expensive furniture stood in
the ordinary stiff arrangement along the walls, which were covered with
cinnamon-coloured paper with gold flowers on it; Odintsov had ordered
the furniture from Moscow through a friend and agent of his, a spirit
merchant. Over a sofa in the centre of one wall hung a portrait of a
faded light-haired man--and it seemed to look with displeasure at the
visitors. 'It must be the late lamented,' Bazarov whispered to Arkady,
and turning up his nose, he added, 'Hadn't we better bolt ...?' But at
that instant the lady of the house entered. She wore a light barege
dress; her hair smoothly combed back behind her ears gave a girlish
expression to her pure and fresh face.

'Thank you for keeping your promise,' she began. 'You must stay a
little while with me; it's really not bad here. I will introduce you to
my sister; she plays the piano well. That is a matter of indifference
to you, Monsieur Bazarov; but you, I think, Monsieur Kirsanov, are fond
of music. Besides my sister I have an old aunt living with me, and one
of our neighbours comes in sometimes to play cards; that makes up all
our circle. And now let us sit down.'

Madame Odintsov delivered all this little speech with peculiar
precision, as though she had learned it by heart; then she turned to
Arkady. It appeared that her mother had known Arkady's mother, and had
even been her confidante in her love for Nikolai Petrovitch. Arkady
began talking with great warmth of his dead mother; while Bazarov fell
to turning over albums. 'What a tame cat I'm getting!' he was thinking
to himself.

A beautiful greyhound with a blue collar on, ran into the drawing-room,
tapping on the floor with his paws, and after him entered a girl of
eighteen, black-haired and dark-skinned, with a rather round but
pleasing face, and small dark eyes. In her hands she held a basket
filled with flowers.

'This is my Katya,' said Madame Odintsov, indicating her with a motion
of her head. Katya made a slight curtsey, placed herself beside her
sister, and began picking out flowers. The greyhound, whose name was
Fifi, went up to both of the visitors, in turn wagging his tail, and
thrusting his cold nose into their hands.

'Did you pick all that yourself?' asked Madame Odintsov.

'Yes,' answered Katya.

'Is auntie coming to tea?'

'Yes.'

When Katya spoke, she had a very charming smile, sweet, timid, and
candid, and looked up from under