For his part, having sat down and looked around, he noticed at once that this whole gathering bore no resemblance to the specters Aglaya had frightened him with yesterday, or to the nightmares he had had during the night. For the first time in his life he saw a small corner of what is known by the terrible name of "society." For a long time now, owing to certain special intentions, considerations, and yearnings of his own, he had desired to penetrate this magic circle of people and was therefore greatly interested in his first impression. This first impression of his was even delightful. It appeared to him somehow at once and suddenly that all these people had, as it were, been born to be together; that there was no "evening" at the Epanchins' that evening and no invited guests, that these were all "our people," and it was as if he himself had long been their devoted and like-minded friend, who had now returned to them after a recent separation. The charm of elegant manners, the simplicity and seeming candor were almost magical. It would never have occurred to him that all this simple-heartedness and nobility, sharp wit and lofty dignity might only be a splendid artistic contrivance. The majority of the guests, despite their imposing appearance, were even rather empty people, who, incidentally, in their self-satisfaction did not know themselves that much of what was good in them was only a contrivance, for which, moreover, they were not to blame, for they had acquired it unconsciously and by inheritance. This the prince did not even want to suspect, under the spell of his lovely first impression. He saw, for instance, that this old man, this important dignitary, who by his age might have been his grandfather, even interrupted his own conversation in order to listen to such a young and inexperienced man as he, and not only listened to him but clearly valued his opinion, was so gentle with him, so sincerely good-natured, and yet they were strangers and were seeing each other for the first time. Perhaps in his ardent susceptibility the prince was most affected by the refinement of this politeness. Perhaps he had been all too disposed beforehand and even won over to a happy impression.
And yet all these people—though they were, of course, "friends of the house" and of each other—were, nevertheless, far from being such friends either of the house or of each other as the prince took them to be when he was introduced to them and made their acquaintance. There were people there who would never for anything have acknowledged the Epanchins as ever so
slightly equal to themselves. There were people there who even absolutely detested each other; old Belokonsky had "despised" the wife of the "little old dignitary" all her life, and she in turn was far from liking Lizaveta Prokofyevna. This "dignitary," her husband, who for some reason had been the patron of the Epanchins from their very youth, and presided here as well, was such a tremendous person in Ivan Fyodorovich's eyes that he could feel nothing but awe and fear in his presence, and would even have genuinely despised himself if for one minute he had considered himself equal to him, or him not an Olympian Jupiter. There were people who had not seen each other for several years and felt nothing for each other but indifference, if not repugnance, but who met now as if they had seen each other only the day before in the most friendly and agreeable company. However, the gathering was not numerous. Besides Belokonsky and the "little old dignitary," who was indeed an important person, besides his wife, there was, first, a very important army general, a baron or a count, with a German name—an extremely taciturn man, with a reputation for an astonishing knowledge of government affairs and even almost with a reputation for learning—one of those Olympian administrators who know everything, "except perhaps Russia itself," a man who once every five years makes an utterance "remarkable for its profundity," but such as, anyhow, unfailingly becomes proverbial and is known even in the most exalted circles; one of those superior officials who usually, after extremely (even strangely) prolonged service, die in high rank, at excellent posts, and with great fortunes, though without any great deeds and even with a certain aversion to deeds. This general was Ivan Fyodorovich's immediate superior in the service, whom he, from the fervor of his grateful heart and even from a sort of self-love, also considered his benefactor, while he by no means considered himself Ivan Fyodorovich's benefactor, treated him with perfect equanimity, though he liked to take advantage of his manifold services, and would at once have replaced him with some other official, if certain considerations, even of a not very lofty sort, demanded it. There was also an important elderly gentleman, supposedly even a relation of Lizaveta Prokofyevna's, though that was decidedly incorrect; a man of good rank and title, a rich and well-born man, of sturdy build and very good health, a big talker, and even with the reputation of a malcontent (though, incidentally, in the most permissible sense of the word), even of an acrimonious
man (but in him this, too, was agreeable), with the manners of English aristocrats and with English tastes (with regard to bloody roast beef, horse harness, lackeys, etc.). He was great friends with the "dignitary," amused him, and, besides that, Lizaveta Prokofyevna for some reason nurtured the strange thought that this elderly gentleman (a somewhat light-minded man and something of a fancier of the female sex) might suddenly up and decide to make Alexandra's happiness by proposing.
After this highest and most solid stratum of the gathering came the stratum of the younger guests, though also shining with quite gracious qualities. To this stratum, besides Prince Shch. and Evgeny Pavlovich, there also belonged the well-known, charming Prince N., a former seducer and winner of women's hearts all over Europe, now a man of about forty-five, still of handsome appearance, a wonderful storyteller, a man of fortune, though somewhat disordered, who, out of habit, lived mostly abroad. There were, finally, people who seemed even to make up a third special stratum, and who did not in themselves belong to the "coveted circle" of society, but who, like the Epanchins, could sometimes be met for some reason in this "coveted" circle. Owing to a sort of tact which they made into a rule, the Epanchins liked, on the rare occasions when they held social gatherings, to mix high society with people of a lower stratum, with chosen representatives of "people of the middle sort." The Epanchins were even praised for that, and it was said that they understood their place and were people of tact, and the Epanchins were proud of such an opinion about themselves. One representative of this middle sort of people that evening was a colonel of the engineers, a serious man, a rather close friend of Prince Shch., who had introduced him to the Epanchins, a man, however, who was taciturn in society and who wore on the large index finger of his right hand a large and conspicuous signet ring, most likely an award of some kind. There was, finally, even a writer-poet, of German origin, but a Russian poet, and, moreover, a perfectly respectable man, so that he could be introduced without apprehension into good society. He was of fortunate appearance, though slightly repulsive for some reason, about thirty-eight, impeccably dressed, belonged to a German family that was bourgeois in the highest degree, but also respectable in the highest degree; he knew how to make use of various occasions, to win his way to the patronage of highly placed people, and to remain in their good