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Updated: May 3, 2025
At first the conversation turned on commercial undertakings; they say he is very clever in business matters, and was almost throwing up his government post to take charge of a large manufacturing business. Pity he didn't do it! Then Shubin began to talk about the theatre; Mr. Kurnatovsky declared and I must confess without false modesty, that he has no ideas about art.
In short, to stay longer at the villa seemed inconvenient, and even, in Nikolai Artemyevitch's words, incompatible with the fulfilment of his 'cherished projects. The last fortnight seemed very long to Elena. Kurnatovsky came over twice on Sundays; on other days he was busy. He came really to see Elena, but talked more to Zoya, who was much pleased with him.
'I thought he was really going to give me some practical advice. But what can one expect from him! An artist, a man of no principles 'No principles! By the way, I'm told your favourite Mr. Kurnatovsky, the man of principle, cleaned you out of a hundred roubles last night. That was hardly delicate, you must own now. 'What of it? We were playing high.
Kurnatovsky seemed annoyed or surprised, and said, "That needs no explanation." 'Papa, who seems to worship him, put in "of course not"; and to my vexation the conversation stopped there. In the evening Bersenyev came and got into a terrific argument with him. I have never seen our good Andrei Petrovitch so excited. Mr.
Elena shook her head unseen; the host did not think it necessary to introduce them to one another, and Insarov departed, exchanging one last look with Elena. Shubin pondered and pondered, and threw himself into a fierce argument with Kurnatovsky on a legislative question, about which he had not a single idea.
'Why, I said nothing Anna Vassilyevna was beginning. 'No, you said, ah! However that may be, I have thought it well to acquaint you with my way of thinking; and I venture to think I venture to hope Mr. Kurnatovsky will be received a bras ouverts. He is no Montenegrin vagrant. 'Of course; I need only call Vanka the cook and order a few extra dishes.
Shubin watched him out of the little window of his lodge, and in silence put out his tongue at him. At ten minutes to four, a hackney-carriage drove up to the steps of the Stahovs's villa, and a man, still young, of prepossessing appearance, simply and elegantly dressed, stepped out of it and sent up his name. This was Yegor Andreyevitch Kurnatovsky.
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