play after
winning large stakes. He had felt that he still had a fortune left to
him which, so long as he did not squander it on gaming, might be
used for our advancement in life. Moreover, it was springtime, he was
unexpectedly well supplied with ready money, he was alone, and he had
nothing to do. As he conversed with Jakoff on various matters, and
remembered both the interminable suit with the Epifanovs and Avdotia's
beauty (it was a long while since he had seen her), I can imagine him
saying: "How do you think we ought to act in this suit, Jakoff? My idea
is simply to let the cursed land go. Eh? What do you think about it?"
I can imagine, too, how, thus interrogated, Jakoff twirled his fingers
behind his back in a deprecatory sort of way, and proceeded to argue
that it all the same, "Peter Alexandritch, we are in the right."
Nevertheless, I further conjecture, Papa ordered the dogcart to be got
ready, put on his fashionable olive-coloured driving-coat, brushed up
the remnants of his hair, sprinkled his clothes with scent, and, greatly
pleased to think that he was acting a la seignior (as well as, even
more, revelling in the prospect of soon seeing a pretty woman), drove
off to visit his neighbours.

I can imagine, too, that when the flustered housemaid ran to inform
Peter Vassilievitch that Monsieur Irtenieff himself had called, Peter
answered angrily, "Well, what has he come for?" and, stepping softly
about the house, first went into his study to put on his old soiled
jacket, and then sent down word to the cook that on no account
whatever--no, not even if she were ordered to do so by the mistress
herself--was she to add anything to luncheon.

Since, later, I often saw Papa with Peter, I can form a very good idea
of this first interview between them. I can imagine that, despite Papa's
proposal to end the suit in a peaceful manner, Peter was morose and
resentful at the thought of having sacrificed his career to his mother,
and at Papa having done nothing of the kind--a by no means surprising
circumstance, Peter probably said to himself. Next, I can see Papa
taking no notice of this ill-humour, but cracking quips and jests, while
Peter gradually found himself forced to treat him as a humorist with
whom he felt offended one moment and inclined to be reconciled the next.
Indeed, with his instinct for making fun of everything, Papa often used
to address Peter as "Colonel;" and though I can remember Peter once
replying,