paid an old man to do it. It was he who
taught me. You see I'm still young, although I'm grown up."

Mariana was silent.

"I wanted to learn some sort of trade, Tatiana Osipovna," Mariana began;
"we must talk about that later on. I'm not good at sewing, but if I
could learn to cook, then I could go out as a cook."

Tatiana became thoughtful.

"Why a cook? Only rich people and merchants keep cooks; the poor do
their own cooking. And to cook at a mess for workmen... why you couldn't
do that!"

"But I could live in a rich man's house and get to know poor people. How
else can I get to know them? I shall not always have such an opportunity
as I have with you."

Tatiana turned her empty cup upside down on the saucer.

"It's a difficult matter," she said at last with a sigh, "and can't be
settled so easily. I'll do what I can, but I'm not very clever. We must
talk it over with Egoritch. He's clever if you like! Reads all sorts
of books and has everything at his fingers' ends." At this point she
glanced at Mariana who was rolling up a cigarette.

"You'll excuse me, Mariana Vikentievna, but if you really want to become
simplified you must give that up." She pointed to the cigarette. "If you
want to be a cook, that would never do. Everyone would see at once that
you are a lady."

Mariana threw the cigarette out of the window.

"I won't smoke any more... It's quite easy to give that up. Women of the
people don't smoke, so I suppose I ought not to."

"That's quite true, Mariana Vikentievna. Our men indulge in it, but not
the women. And here's Vassily Fedotitch coming to see you. Those are
his steps. You ask him. He'll arrange everything for you in the best
possible way."

Solomin's voice was heard at the door.

"Can I come in?"

"Come in, come in!" Mariana called out.

"It's an English habit of mine," Solomin observed as he came in. "Well,
and how are you getting on? Not homesick yet, eh? I see you're having
tea with Tatiana. You listen to her, she's a sensible person. My
employer is coming today. It's rather a nuisance. He's staying to
dinner. But it can't be helped. He's the master."

"What sort of a man is he?" Nejdanov asked, coming out of his corner.

"Oh, he's not bad... knows what he's about. One of the new generation.
He's very polite, wears cuffs, and has his eyes about him no less than
the old sort. He would skin a flint with his own hands and say, 'Turn
to this side a little, please... there is stil