flows simple plebeian blood. But I see you are now in need of some
pure, unearthly being, who might rouse you from your apathy."

"Thanks, brother," said Lavretsky; "I have had quite enough of those
unearthly beings."

"Silence, cyneec!"[A] exclaimed Mikhalevich.

[Footnote A: He says _Tsuinnik_ instead of _Tsinik_.]

"Cynic," said Lavretsky, correcting him.

"Just so, cyneec," repeated the undisconcerted Mikhalevich.

Even when he had taken his seat in the tarantass, in which his flat
and marvellously light portmanteau had been stowed away, he still
went on talking. Enveloped in a kind of Spanish cloak, with a collar
reddened by long use, and with lion's claws instead of hooks, he
continued to pour forth his opinions on the destinies of Russia,
waving his swarthy hand the while in the air, as if he were sowing the
seeds of future prosperity. At last the horses set off.

"Remember my last three words!" he exclaimed, leaning almost entirely
out of the carriage, and scarcely able to keep his balance. "Religion,
Progress, Humanity! Farewell!" His head, on which his forage cap was
pressed down to his eyes, disappeared from sight. Lavretsky was left
alone at the door, where he remained gazing attentively along the
road, until the carriage was out of sight. "And perhaps he is right,"
he thought, as he went back into the house. "Perhaps I am a marmot."
Much of what Mikhalevich had said had succeeded in winning its way
into his heart, although at the time he had contradicted him and
disagreed with him. Let a man only be perfectly honest--no one can
utterly gainsay him.

XXV.

Two days later, Maria Dmitrievna arrived at Vasilievskoe, according
to her promise, and all her young people with her. The little girls
immediately ran into the garden, but Maria Dmitrievna languidly walked
through the house, and languidly praised all she saw. She looked upon
her visit to Lavretsky as a mark of great condescension, almost a
benevolent action. She smiled affably when Anton and Apraxia came to
kiss her hand, according to the old custom of household serfs, and in
feeble accents she asked for tea.

To the great vexation of Anton, who had donned a pair of knitted white
gloves, it was not he who handed the tea to the lady visitor, but
Lavretsky's hired lackey, a fellow who, in the old man's opinion, had
not a notion of etiquette. However, Anton had it all his own way
at dinner. With firm step, he took up his position behind