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"Merchants, and still more their wives, are fonder of beggars than they are of their own workpeople," thought Anna Akimovna. "It's always so." Her eye fell upon the roll of money. It would be nice to distribute that hateful, useless money among the workpeople tomorrow, but it did not do to give the workpeople anything for nothing, or they would demand it again next time.
The money would come upon the poor creature like a thunder-clap, and perhaps for the first time in his life he would feel happy. This idea struck Anna Akimovna as original and amusing, and it fascinated her. She took one letter at random out of the pile and read it.
Varvarushka glanced at the ikons again and crossed herself. "But no one will have me, Spiridonovna," said Anna Akimovna to change the conversation. "What's to be done?" "It's your own fault. You keep waiting for highly educated gentlemen, but you ought to marry one of your own sort, a merchant." "We don't want a merchant," said Auntie, all in a flutter. "Queen of Heaven, preserve us!
It is well said, 'God marks the rogue. In prisons, night refuges, and pot-houses you never see any but the poor, while decent people, you may notice, are always rich. It has been said of the rich, 'Deep calls to deep." "You always express yourself so tediously and incomprehensibly," said Anna Akimovna, and she walked to the other end of the big drawing-room. It was only just past eleven.
"You are so handsome! You are so splendid! Here, your Excellency, let me introduce the one woman in the world whom I have ever seriously loved." "There is nothing surprising in that. To know Anna Akimovna at your age and not to be in love with her, that would be impossible." "I adore her," the lawyer continued with perfect sincerity, but with his usual indolent grace.
"You are a handsome, healthy, sturdy lass," said Stinging Beetle to Anna Akimovna. "But I can't make out for whose sake you are holding back." "What's to be done if nobody will have me?" "Or maybe you have taken a vow to remain a maid?" Stinging Beetle went on, as though she did not hear. "Well, that's a good deed. . . . Remain one," she repeated, looking intently and maliciously at her cards.
All this conversation made Anna Akimovna suddenly long to be married long intensely, painfully; she felt as though she would give half her life and all her fortune only to know that upstairs there was a man who was closer to her than any one in the world, that he loved her warmly and was missing her; and the thought of such closeness, ecstatic and inexpressible in words, troubled her soul.
The lamp in the big room was the only light burning in the upper story, and it sent a glimmer through the door into the dark drawing-room. It was between nine and ten, not later. Anna Akimovna played a waltz, then another, then a third; she went on playing without stopping.
As she said good-bye she slipped three hundred roubles into his hand; he seemed taken aback, and looked at her for a minute in silence with his pewtery eyes, but then seemed to understand and said: "The receipt, honoured Anna Akimovna, you can only receive on the New Year." Lysevitch had become utterly limp and heavy, and he staggered when Mishenka put on his overcoat.
See how beautifully her hair goes with her complexion. Oh, goodness! You don't understand anything, and don't know what you want," Anna Akimovna said bitterly, and tears came into her eyes. "Poor girl, I am so sorry for her! I know you want a wife with money, but I have told you already I will give Masha a dowry."
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