Best Russian Short Stories | Page 8

in which the hero strangles neither his father nor his
mother, and in which there are no drowned bodies. I have a great horror
of drowned persons."
"There are no such novels nowadays. Would you like a Russian one?"
"Are there any Russian novels? Send me one, my dear, pray send me
one!"
"Good-bye, grandmother: I am in a hurry... Good-bye, Lizaveta
Ivanovna. What made you think that Narumov was in the Engineers?"
And Tomsky left the boudoir.
Lizaveta Ivanovna was left alone: she laid aside her work and began to

look out of the window. A few moments afterwards, at a corner house
on the other side of the street, a young officer appeared. A deep blush
covered her cheeks; she took up her work again and bent her head
down over the frame. At the same moment the Countess returned
completely dressed.
"Order the carriage, Lizaveta," said she; "we will go out for a drive."
Lizaveta arose from the frame and began to arrange her work.
"What is the matter with you, my child, are you deaf?" cried the
Countess. "Order the carriage to be got ready at once."
"I will do so this moment," replied the young lady, hastening into the
ante-room.
A servant entered and gave the Countess some books from Prince Paul
Aleksandrovich.
"Tell him that I am much obliged to him," said the Countess. "Lizaveta!
Lizaveta! Where are you running to?"
"I am going to dress."
"There is plenty of time, my dear. Sit down here. Open the first volume
and read to me aloud."
Her companion took the book and read a few lines.
"Louder," said the Countess. "What is the matter with you, my child?
Have you lost your voice? Wait--give me that footstool--a little
nearer--that will do."
Lizaveta read two more pages. The Countess yawned.
"Put the book down," said she: "what a lot of nonsense! Send it back to
Prince Paul with my thanks... But where is the carriage?"
"The carriage is ready," said Lizaveta, looking out into the street.

"How is it that you are not dressed?" said the Countess: "I must always
wait for you. It is intolerable, my dear!"
Liza hastened to her room. She had not been there two minutes, before
the Countess began to ring with all her might. The three waiting-maids
came running in at one door and the valet at another.
"How is it that you cannot hear me when I ring for you?" said the
Countess. "Tell Lizaveta Ivanovna that I am waiting for her."
Lizaveta returned with her hat and cloak on.
"At last you are here!" said the Countess. "But why such an elaborate
toilette? Whom do you intend to captivate? What sort of weather is it?
It seems rather windy."
"No, your Ladyship, it is very calm," replied the valet.
"You never think of what you are talking about. Open the window. So
it is: windy and bitterly cold. Unharness the horses. Lizaveta, we won't
go out--there was no need for you to deck yourself like that."
"What a life is mine!" thought Lizaveta Ivanovna.
And, in truth, Lizaveta Ivanovna was a very unfortunate creature. "The
bread of the stranger is bitter," says Dante, "and his staircase hard to
climb." But who can know what the bitterness of dependence is so well
as the poor companion of an old lady of quality? The Countess A----
had by no means a bad heart, bat she was capricious, like a woman who
had been spoilt by the world, as well as being avaricious and egotistical,
like all old people who have seen their best days, and whose thoughts
are with the past and not the present. She participated in all the vanities
of the great world, went to balls, where she sat in a corner, painted and
dressed in old-fashioned style, like a deformed but indispensable
ornament of the ball-room; all the guests on entering approached her
and made a profound bow, as if in accordance with a set ceremony, but
after that nobody took any further notice of her. She received the whole
town at her house, and observed the strictest etiquette, although she

could no longer recognise the faces of people. Her numerous domestics,
growing fat and old in her ante-chamber and servants' hall, did just as
they liked, and vied with each other in robbing the aged Countess in the
most bare-faced manner. Lizaveta Ivanovna was the martyr of the
household. She made tea, and was reproached with using too much
sugar; she read novels aloud to the Countess, and the faults of the
author were visited upon her head; she accompanied the Countess in
her walks, and was held answerable for the weather or the state of the
pavement. A salary was attached to the post, but she very rarely