" Why, look what kvas we have here, but there even the beer is thin ; and the kvas seems to set up a ferment in your stomach all day! The only thing good is the blacking—ah, there's blacking, you see again! such a scent it has; one could almost eat it!"
" What are you saying! *'
" Yes, 'pon my soul."
A pause.
" Well, so is that how it is ?" asked Anton Ivanitch munching.
" Yes, just so."
"You fared badly?"
"Yes, very badly. Alexandr Fedoritch eat the least possible; he got quite out of the way of eating; he wouldn't eat a pound of bread for dinner."
"No wonder he's thin," said Anton Ivanitch. "Allbecause it was dear, was it."
" Yes, it was dear, and besides, he hadn't the habit of eating his fill every day. The gentry eat as it were on the sly, once a day, or else when they have time, at five, sometimes at six; or they snatch a morsel of something and with that they've done. That's the last consideration with them; they do everything else first and leave eating to the last."
" What a way of living !" said Anton Ivanitch. " No wonder he's thin ! it's a marvel that you didn't die there ! And was it like this all the time ? "
"No; on holidays when the gentry meet together sometimes, upon my soul, how they do eat! They go to some German restaurant and they will dine for a hundred roubles I'm told. And they drink—God save us!— worse than a peasant! Sometimes there would be a party
at Piotr Ivanitch's; they would sit down to table at six o'clock, and get up at four in the morning."
Anton Ivanitch opened his eyes.
" What are you saying!" he said, " and they are eating all the while ?"
" They*are eating all the while !"
"I should like to see it; it's not our way! What do they eat ? "
" Oh, nothing worth seeing, sir ! You don't know what you are eating. God knows what the damned foreigners serve the victuals up with; I should not care to put them into my mouth. And their pepper is not like this ; they pour into the sauce something out of foreign bottles. Once Piotr Ivanitch's cook entertained me with the dishes from the master's table; I felt sick for three days after. I look, there's an olive in the dish, I thought it was an olive like they are here; I tasted it—look again; and there was a little fish; it was horrid, I spit it out, I took another .... and there it was the same; and in all alike .... ah, you damned foreigners."
" But did they put them there on purpose?"
" God knows. I asked them; the fellows laugh, and say, yes, they grew so. And what are their dishes ? To begin with, they serve soup, with dumplings as it should be and they're scarcely dumplings—as big as thimbles, you put six at once in your mouth, try to chew them,—and already they've gone, melted away. After the soup they serve something sweet at once, then beef, then ice-cream, and then some kind of vegetable, and then a roast, and you could not eat it!"
" So they didn't cook at home with you ? Well, no wonder he's thin !" said Anton Ivanitch, getting up from the table.
" I thank thee, my God," he began with a deep sigh, " for
Thy heavenly blessings What am I saying! my tongue
is wandering—earthly blessings, and do not let me lack Thy heavenly guidance." You can clear away; rhe master and mistress will not dine. For supper prepare another sucking-pig, or shouldn't it be a turkey ? Alexandr Fedoritch likes turkey: he will be hungry, I dare say. And now bring me some fresh hay in the attic, I will take a nap for the next hour; then wake me for tea. If Alexandr Fedoritch stirs, then wake me up.
When he rose from his nap he went to Anna Pavlovna.
"Well, what is it, Anton Ivanitch?" Bhe said.
" Nothing, ma'am, I humbly thank you for your bread and salt .... and I have had such a sweet sleep; the hay is so fresh, so fragrant."
" I hope it has done you good, Anton Ivanitch. Well, and what did Yevsay say ! You questioned him ? "
" I should think so, indeed! I have found it all out; I know all, it's nothing to trouble about. The whole thing comes from their food there having been, it seems, so poor."
" The food ? "
" Yes, consider yourself, cucumbers are forty pence the dozen, a sucking-pig is two roubles, and the cooking is all done at the confectioner's—and you can't eat your fill. No wonder he's thin! Don't be uneasy, ma'am, we'll set him on his legs here, we'll cure him. You tell them to prepare a good lot of birchwood infusion. I will give you the receipt; I had it from Prokoff Astafich; give it him morning and evening with mm or holy water, a little glass or two, before dinner. You might give it with holy water, have you some ? "
" Yes, yes; you brought me some already.'
"Ah, yes, so I did. Prepare rather more sustaining dishes for him. I have already ordered them to roast a sucking-pig or a turkey for supper."
" Thank you, Anton Ivanitch."
"Oh, it's nothing, ma'am. Shall not we order a little chicken, as well, with white sauce ? "
" I will order it."
"Why should you? Am I good for nothing? I will see to it. . . . let me."
" See to it, help me, my dear friend."
He went away, and she sank into thought. Her woman's instinct and her mother's heart told her that food was not the principal cause of Alexandr's melancholy. She set to work to question him indirectly by hints, but Alexandr did not understand these hints and said nothing. So passed away a fortnight, three weeks. Sucking-pigs, chickens, and turkeys came to Anton Ivanitch in abundance, but Alexandr was still melancholy and thin, and his hair had not grown thicker.
Then Anna Pavlovna decided to have a talk with him straight out
" Listen, my dear one, Sashenka," she said one day, " it's now a month since you've been here, and I have not yet seen you smile once; you move like a cloud, with downcast looks. Is there something you don't like in your native place ? It seems you were happier in a strange place ; are you longing for it, or what ? My heart is torn when I look at you. What has happened to you ? tell me, what is it you haven't got ? I will grudge you nothing. Has someone done you an injury ? I will revenge that too." -
" Don't be uneasy, mamma," said Alexandr, " this is nothing ! I have come to years of discretion, and so I am serious."
" But why are you thin ? and what has become of your hair ? "
" I can't tell you why .... one can't govern everything that has happened in seven years .... perhaps, indeed, my health is a little disordered."
" Do you feel pain anywhere ? "
" Yes, I have a pain here, and here." He pointed to his \J h ead an^ his h earts
Anna Pavlovna laid her hand on his forehead.
"There is no fever," she said. "Why should this be so ? Is there a throbbing in your head ? "
"No ... . only . . . ."
" Sashenka! let us go to Ivan Andreitch ! "
" Who is Ivan Andreitch ? "
"The new doctor; it's two years since he came here. Such a clever fellow, he's a wonder! He hardly prescribes any medicines; he makes himself some tiny little pills .... and they do good. Our Foma had a pain in the stomach ; he was groaning three days and nights; the doctor gave him three little pills, it cured him at once! You must physic yourself a little, darling! "
" No, mamma, he will do me no good; this will go on just the same."
" But why are you dull ? What is this trouble ? "
" Oh . . . ."
" What do you want ? "
" I don't know myself."
" What a strange thing, upon my word!" said Anna Pavlovna. " You say you like your food, you have every comfort and a good position .... what more is there ?
and yet you are dull, Sashenka !" she went on softly, after a pause; " isn't it time for you .... to marry ? "
" What are you thinking of! No, I shall not marry."
" But I have a girl in my mind—just like a doll, rosy and delicate, as fair as a lily. Her figure is so slender and neat; she has studied in the town at a boarding-school. She has seventy-five serfs and 25,000 in money, a splendid dowry; they were in business in Moscow, and an excellent connection. Eh ? Sashenka ? I have already broken the ice with her mother once over coffee, but I only dropped a word in joke."