bread, and scattering tobacco ash with complete
insouciance. Two hours did he sit over this meal, then poured himself
out another cup of the rapidly cooling tea, and walked to the window.
This faced the courtyard, and outside it, as usual, there took place the
following daily altercation between a serf named Grigory (who purported
to act as butler) and the housekeeper, Perfilievna.

Grigory. Ah, you nuisance, you good-for-nothing, you had better hold
your stupid tongue.

Perfilievna. Yes; and don't you wish that I would?

Grigory. What? You so thick with that bailiff of yours, you housekeeping
jade!

Perfilievna. Nay, he is as big a thief as you are. Do you think the
barin doesn't know you? And there he is! He must have heard everything!

Grigory. Where?

Perfilievna. There--sitting by the window, and looking at us!

Next, to complete the hubbub, a serf child which had been clouted by its
mother broke out into a bawl, while a borzoi puppy which had happened
to get splashed with boiling water by the cook fell to yelping
vociferously. In short, the place soon became a babel of shouts and
squeals, and, after watching and listening for a time, the barin found
it so impossible to concentrate his mind upon anything that he sent out
word that the noise would have to be abated.

The next item was that, a couple of hours before luncheon time, he
withdrew to his study, to set about employing himself upon a weighty
work which was to consider Russia from every point of view: from the
political, from the philosophical, and from the religious, as well as to
resolve various problems which had arisen to confront the Empire, and to
define clearly the great future to which the country stood ordained. In
short, it was to be the species of compilation in which the man of the
day so much delights. Yet the colossal undertaking had progressed but
little beyond the sphere of projection, since, after a pen had been
gnawed awhile, and a few strokes had been committed to paper, the whole
would be laid aside in favour of the reading of some book; and that
reading would continue also during luncheon and be followed by the
lighting of a pipe, the playing of a solitary game of chess, and the
doing of more or less nothing for the rest of the day.

The foregoing will give the reader a pretty clear idea of the manner in
which it was possible for this man of thirty-three to waste his time.
Clad constantly in slippers and a dressing-gown, Tient