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Updated: May 31, 2025
IN the drawing room of a large stone house with a Greek front built in the twenties of the present century by Sipiagin's father, a well-known landowner, who was distinguished by the free use of his fists Sipiagin's wife, Valentina Mihailovna, a very beautiful woman, having been informed by telegram of her husband's arrival, sat expecting him every moment.
It was inconsistent with the dreams he had cherished all his life of his Minna or Ernestine. He felt that he was unequal to enduring domestic storms. Yulia Mihailovna had an open explanation with him at last. "You can't be angry at this," she said, "if only because you've still as much sense as he has, and are immeasurably higher in the social scale.
"Afterwards, perhaps, not now. But how is Yulia Mihailovna?" "What conventional manners all of you have! Her health is no more to you than the health of the grey cat, yet you ask after it. I approve of that. She's quite well, and her respect for you amounts to a superstition, her immense anticipations of you amount to a superstition.
Rudin was about to take a seat some distance away; but Darya Mihailovna motioned him to an easy chair, which stood near her lounge, and bending a little towards him began to question him about his family, his plans and intentions.
Till that moment he had been pacing up and down the study and had been discussing something tete-a-tete with his clerk Blum, a very clumsy and surly German whom he had brought with him from Petersburg, in spite of the violent opposition of Yulia Mihailovna. On Pyotr Stepanovitch's entrance the clerk had moved to the door, but had not gone out.
But even this humble section of the assembly held sullenly and timidly aloof from Yulia Mihailovna and at the same time turned upon her husband exceedingly strange glances, open and staring, quite out of keeping with their habitually submissive demeanour. "Yes, that struck me, and I suddenly began to guess about Andrey Antonovitch," Yulia Mihailovna confessed to me afterwards.
Andrey Antonovitch besought her with clasped hands, told her pathetically all the story of Blum and their friendship from childhood, but Yulia Mihailovna considered herself disgraced for ever, and even had recourse to fainting.
He is conscious that he cannot argue with you. But you had better sit nearer to us and let us have a little talk. Rudin moved his chair up. 'How is it we have not met till now? was Darya Mihailovna's question. 'That is what surprises me. Have you read this book? C'est de Tocqueville, vous savez? And Darya Mihailovna held out the French pamphlet to Rudin.
But now, instead of the Minna or Ernestine he had expected, Yulia Mihailovna suddenly appeared on the scene. His career was instantly raised to a more elevated plane. The modest and precise man felt that he too was capable of ambition. Yulia Mihailovna had a fortune of two hundred serfs, to reckon in the old style, and she had besides powerful friends.
When Mariana returned to her room she found a note on the table containing the following: "I am sorry for you. You are ruining yourself. Think what you are doing. Into what abysses are you throwing yourself with your eyes shut. For whom and for what? There was a peculiarly fine fresh scent in the room; evidently Valentina Mihailovna had only just left it.
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