e wall on a square table, which was covered with a
table-cloth of unspotted whiteness. An old servant, dressed in a grey
coat and wearing shoes, traversed the whole room deliberately and
noiselessly, placed two slender candle-sticks with wax tapers in them
before the icons, crossed himself, bowed, and silently left the room.

[Footnote A: Sacred Pictures.]

The drawing-room was dark and empty. Lavretsky went into the
dining-room, and asked if it was any one's name-day.[A] He was told in
a whisper that it was not, but that a service was to be performed
in accordance with the request of Lizaveta Mikhailovna and Marfa
Timofeevna. The miracle-working picture was to have been brought, but
it had gone to a sick person thirty versts off.

[Footnote A: A Russian keeps, not his birthday, but his name-day--that
is, the day set apart by the church in honor of the saint after whom
he is called.]

Soon afterwards the priest arrived with his acolytes--a middle-aged
man, with a large bald spot on his head, who coughed loudly in the
vestibule. The ladies immediately came out of the boudoir in a row,
and asked him for his blessing. Lavretsky bowed to them in silence,
and they as silently returned his greeting. The priest remained a
little longer where he was, then coughed again, and asked, in a low,
deep voice--

"Do you wish me to begin?"

"Begin, reverend father," replied Maria Dmitrievna.

The priest began to robe. An acolyte in a surplice humbly asked for a
coal from the fire. The scent of the incense began to spread around.
The footmen and the maid-servants came in from the ante-chamber and
remained standing in a compact body at the door. The dog Roska, which,
as a general rule, never came down-stairs from the upper story, now
suddenly made its appearance in the dining room. The servants tried
to drive it out, but it got frightened, first ran about, and then lay
down. At last a footman got hold of it and carried it off.

The service began. Lavretsky retired into a corner. His feelings were
strange and almost painful. He himself could not well define what it
was that he felt. Maria Dmitrievna stood in front of the rest, with an
arm-chair behind her. She crossed herself carelessly, languidly, like
a great lady. Sometimes she looked round, at others she suddenly
raised her eyes towards the ceiling. The whole affair evidently bored
her.

Marfa Timofeevna seemed pre-occupied. Nastasia Carpovna bowed down
to the ground, and r