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Updated: May 12, 2025
At the Azhoguins' everybody was asleep and the only light was in one of the top windows; old Mrs. Azhoguin was sitting in her room embroidering by candle-light and imagining herself to be fighting against prejudice. It was dark in our house and opposite, at the Dolyhikovs' the windows were lit up, but it was impossible to see anything through the flowers and curtains.
In the hall, on the table, on the piano, on the stage, there were candles burning; all in threes, for the first performance was fixed for the thirteenth, and the dress rehearsal was on Monday the unlucky day. A fight against prejudice! All the lovers of dramatic art were assembled; the eldest, the middle, and the youngest Miss Azhoguin were walking about the stage, reading their parts.
Radish, in a long, brown overcoat with a scarf wound round his neck, was standing, leaning with his head against the wall, looking at the stage with a rapt expression. Mrs. Azhoguin went from guest to guest saying something pleasant to every one. She had a way of gazing into one's face and speaking in a hushed voice as though she were telling a secret.
"Indeed," said Mrs. Azhoguin, coming up to me, and gazing into my face. "Indeed, if it takes you from your more serious business" she took the book out of my hands "then you must hand it over to some one else. Don't worry, my friend. It will be all right." I said good-bye and left in some confusion.
The day after my conversation with my sister I worked from morning till night at the Azhoguins'. The rehearsal was fixed for seven o'clock, and an hour before it began all the players were assembled, and the eldest, the middle, and the youngest Miss Azhoguin were reading their parts on the stage.
"My father has mentioned you," she said drily, not looking at me and blushing.... "Dolyhikov has promised to find you something to do on the railway. If you go to his house to-morrow, he will see you." I bowed and thanked her for her kindness. "And you must leave this," she said, pointing to my book. She and my sister went up to Mrs. Azhoguin and began to whisper, looking at me.
"I told her not to try to act," she said angrily, biting out each word, with her cheeks blushing. "It is folly! You ought to have stopped her!" Mrs. Azhoguin came up in a short jacket with short sleeves. She had tobacco ash on her thin, flat bosom. "My dear, it is too awful!" she said, wringing her hands, and as usual, staring into my face.
And this was the family that had been fighting the prejudices and superstitions of mankind all their lives; evidently they thought that all the prejudices and superstitions of mankind were to be found in burning three candles and in the number thirteen, or the unlucky day Monday. "I must request ... request ..." Mrs. Azhoguin kept on saying, compressing her lips and accentuating the quest.
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