tter at the first word exclaimed, "You must be a
general if you talk like that," meaning that he could find no word of
abuse worse than "general."

Ivan Ivanovitch flew into a terrible passion: "Yes, sir, I am a general,
and a lieutenant-general, and I have served my Tsar, and you, sir, are a
puppy and an infidel!"

An outrageous scene followed. Next day the incident was exposed in
print, and they began getting up a collective protest against Varvara
Petrovna's disgraceful conduct in not having immediately turned
the general out. In an illustrated paper there appeared a malignant
caricature in which Varvara Petrovna, Stepan Trofimovitch, and General
Drozdov were depicted as three reactionary friends. There were verses
attached to this caricature written by a popular poet especially for the
occasion. I may observe, for my own part, that many persons of general's
rank certainly have an absurd habit of saying, "I have served my
Tsar"...just as though they had not the same Tsar as all the rest of us,
their simple fellow-subjects, but had a special Tsar of their own.

It was impossible, of course, to remain any longer in Petersburg, all
the more so as Stepan Trofimovitch was overtaken by a complete fiasco.
He could not resist talking of the claims of art, and they laughed
at him more loudly as time went on. At his last lecture he thought to
impress them with patriotic eloquence, hoping to touch their hearts,
and reckoning on the respect inspired by his "persecution." He did
not attempt to dispute the uselessness and absurdity of the word
"fatherland," acknowledged the pernicious influence of religion, but
firmly and loudly declared that boots were of less consequence than
Pushkin; of much less, indeed. He was hissed so mercilessly that he
burst into tears, there and then, on the platform. Varvara Petrovna took
him home more dead than alive. _"On m'a traite comme un vieux bonnet
de coton,"_ he babbled senselessly. She was looking after him all night,
giving him laurel-drops and repeating to him till daybreak, "You will
still be of use; you will still make your mark; you will be appreciated
... in another place."

Early next morning five literary men called on Varvara Petrovna, three
of them complete strangers, whom she had never set eyes on before. With
a stern air they informed her that they had looked into the question of
her magazine, and had brought her their decision on the subject. Varvara
Petrovna had never authori