ry one thinking of no one but
her, and that unfavourably. She would glance timidly from one person to
another, the colour coming and going in her cheeks, and then begin
to talk loudly and defiantly, but, for the most part, nonsense; until
presently, realising this, and supposing that Papa and every one else
had heard her, she would blush more painfully than ever. Yet Papa never
noticed her nonsense, for he was too much taken up with coughing and
with gazing at her with his look of happy, triumphant devotion. I
noticed, too, that, although these fits of shyness attacked Avdotia,
without any visible cause, they not infrequently ensued upon Papa's
mention of one or another young and beautiful woman. Frequent
transitions from depression to that strange, awkward gaiety of hers
to which I have referred before the repetition of favourite words and
turns of speech of Papa's; the continuation of discussions with others
which Papa had already begun--all these things, if my father had not
been the principal actor in the matter and I had been a little older,
would have explained to me the relations subsisting between him and
Avdotia. At the time, however, I never surmised them--no, not even when
Papa received from her brother Peter a letter which so upset him that
not again until the end of August did he go to call upon the Epifanovs'.
Then, however, he began his visits once more, and ended by informing
us, on the day before Woloda and I were to return to Moscow, that he was
about to take Avdotia Vassilievna Epifanov to be his wife.

XXXV. HOW WE RECEIVED THE NEWS

Yet, even on the eve of the official announcement, every one had learnt
of the matter, and was discussing it. Mimi never left her room that
day, and wept copiously. Katenka kept her company, and only came out
for luncheon, with a grieved expression on her face which was manifestly
borrowed from her mother. Lubotshka, on the contrary, was very cheerful,
and told us after luncheon that she knew of a splendid secret which she
was going to tell no one.

"There is nothing so splendid about your secret," said Woloda, who did
not in the least share her satisfaction. "If you were capable of any
serious thought at all, you would understand that it is a very bad
lookout for us."

Lubotshka stared at him in amazement, and said no more. After the meal
was over, Woloda made a feint of taking me by the arm, and then, fearing
that this would seem too much like "affection," nu