Part 6 (1/2)

'And what have you been reading?'

'Oh! I read--a history of the Crusades,' said Natalya, with some hesitation.

Volintsev looked at her.

'Ah!' he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed at last, 'that must be interesting.'

He picked a twig and began to twirl it in the air. They walked another twenty paces.

'What is this baron whom your mother has made acquaintance with?' began Volintsev again.

'A Gentleman of the Bedchamber, a new arrival; _maman_ speaks very highly of him.'

'Your mother is quick to take fancies to people.'

'That shows that her heart is still young,' observed Natalya.

'Yes. I shall soon bring you your mare. She is almost quite broken in now. I want to teach her to gallop, and I shall manage it soon.'

'_Merci_!... But I'm quite ashamed. You are breaking her in yourself ...

and they say it's so hard!'

'To give you the least pleasure, you know, Natalya Alexyevna, I am ready... I... not in such trifles----'

Volintsev grew confused.

Natalya looked at him with friendly encouragement, and again said '_merci_!'

'You know,' continued Sergei Pavlitch after a long pause, 'that not such things.... But why am I saying this? you know everything, of course.'

At that instant a bell rang in the house.

'Ah! _la cloche du diner_!' cried Mlle. Boncourt, '_rentrons_.'

'_Quel dommage_,' thought the old French lady to herself as she mounted the balcony steps behind Volintsev and Natalya, '_quel dommage que ce charmant garcon ait si peu de ressources dans la conversation_,' which may be translated, 'you are a good fellow, my dear boy, but rather a fool.'

The baron did not arrive to dinner. They waited half-an-hour for him.

Conversation flagged at the table. Sergei Pavlitch did nothing but gaze at Natalya, near whom he was sitting, and zealously filled up her gla.s.s with water. Pandalevsky tried in vain to entertain his neighbour, Alexandra Pavlovna; he was bubbling over with sweetness, but she hardly refrained from yawning.

Ba.s.sistoff was rolling up pellets of bread and thinking of nothing at all; even Pigasov was silent, and when Darya Mihailovna remarked to him that he had not been very polite to-day, he replied crossly, 'When am I polite? that's not in my line;' and smiling grimly he added, 'have a little patience; I am only kvas, you know, _du simple_ Russian kvas; but your Gentleman of the Bedchamber----'

'Bravo!' cried Darya Mihailovna, 'Pigasov is jealous, he is jealous already!'

But Pigasov made her no rejoinder, and only gave her a rather cross look.

Seven o'clock struck, and they were all a.s.sembled again in the drawing-room.