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During the latter part of his residence in O he had completely lost Marya Dmitrievna's good graces; he had suddenly given up visiting her and scarcely stirred from Lavriky. Varvara Pavolvna had enslaved him, literally enslaved him, no other word can describe her boundless, irresistible, unquestioned sway over him.
"I have four sons in the army but still I don't fret. It is all in God's hands. You may die in your bed or God may spare you in a battle," replied Marya Dmitrievna's deep voice, which easily carried the whole length of the table. "That's true!" Once more the conversations concentrated, the ladies' at the one end and the men's at the other.
At first, when he happened to meet Maria Dmitrievna's eyes, he would pass his hand across his face and frown and sigh abruptly, but after a time he entirely forgot her presence, and gave himself up unreservedly to the enjoyment of a half-fashionable, half-artistic chat. Varvara Pavlovna proved herself a great philosopher.
Where have you thrown it? Be so good as to look for it. It's from Kazan, dated yesterday." The maid a pale, very slim girl with an indifferent expression found several telegrams in the basket under the table, and handed them to the doctor without a word; but all these were telegrams from patients. Then they looked in the drawing-room, and in Olga Dmitrievna's room. It was past midnight.
In Marya Dmitrievna's anteroom the footman who helped him off with his fur coat said that the mistress asked him to come to her bedroom. When he opened the ballroom door Pierre saw Natasha sitting at the window, with a thin, pale, and spiteful face. She glanced round at him, frowned, and left the room with an expression of cold dignity.
He had been a provincial public prosecutor, noted in his own day as a successful man of business. He had received a fair education and had been to the university; but having been born in narrow circumstances he realized early in life the necessity of pushing his own way in the world and making money. It had been a love-match on Marya Dmitrievna's side.
"I did not want to go along the beaten track," he said huskily. "I wanted to choose a wife according to the dictates of my heart; but it seems this was not to be. Farewell, fond dream!" He made Lisa a profound bow, and went back into the house. She hoped that he would go away at once; but he went into Marya Dmitrievna's room and remained nearly an hour with her.
The town of O -had undergone little change in the course of these eight years; but Marya Dmitrievna's house seemed to have grown younger; its freshly-painted walls gave a bright welcome, and the panes of its open windows were crimson, shining in the setting sun; from these windows the light merry sound of ringing young voices and continual laughter floated into the street; the whole house seemed astir with life and brimming over with gaiety.
In another minute he had crossed the hall and entered the drawing-room, flourishing his whip in the air. At the same moment there appeared on the threshold of another doorway a tall, well-made, dark-haired girl of nineteen Maria Dmitrievna's elder daughter, Liza. The young man whom we have just introduced to our readers was called Vladimir Nikolaevich Panshine. He occupied a post at St.
Lenotchka, transformed into a slim, beautiful young girl, and her betrothed lover a fair-haired officer of hussars; Marya Dmitrievna's son, who had just been married in Petersburg and had come with his young wife for the spring to O ; his wife's sister, a school-girl of sixteen, with glowing cheeks and bright eyes; Shurotchka, grown up and also pretty, made up the youthful household, whose laughter and talk set the walls of the Kalitins' house resounding.
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