"Who's that? What a piteous face!" he asked, noticing a sick man

of medium height sitting on a bench, wearing a brown overcoat and

white trousers that fell in strange folds about his long,

fleshless legs. This man lifted his straw hat, showed his scanty

curly hair and high forehead, painfully reddened by the pressure

of the hat.

"That's Petrov, an artist," answered Kitty, blushing. "And

that's his wife," she added, indicating Anna Pavlovna, who, as

though on purpose, at the very instant they approached walked

away after a child that had run off along a path.

"Poor fellow! and what a nice face he has!" said the prince.

"Why don't you go up to him? He wanted to speak to you."

"Well, let us go, then," said Kitty, turning round resolutely.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked Petrov.

Petrov got up, leaning on his stick, and looked shyly at the

prince.

"This is my daughter," said the prince. "Let me introduce

myself."

The painter bowed and smiled, showing his strangely dazzling

white teeth.

"We expected you yesterday, princess," he said to Kitty. He

staggered as he said this, and then repeated the motion, trying

to make it seem as if it had been intentional.

"I meant to come, but Varenka said that Anna Pavlovna sent word

you were not going."

"Not going!" said Petrov, blushing, and immediately beginning to

cough, and his eyes sought his wife. "Anita! Anita!" he said

loudly, and the swollen veins stood out like cords on his thin

white neck.

Anna Pavlovna came up.

"So you sent word to the princess that we weren't going!" he

whispered to her angrily, losing his voice.

"Good morning, princess," said Anna Pavlovna, with an assumed

smile utterly unlike her former manner. "Very glad to make your

acquaintance," she said to the prince. "You've long been

expected, prince."

"What did you send word to the princess that we weren't going

for?" the artist whispered hoarsely once more, still more

angrily, obviously exasperated that his voice failed him so that

he could not give his words the expression he would have liked

to.

"Oh, mercy on us! I thought we weren't going," his wife answered

crossly.

"What, when...." He coughed and waved his hand. The prince took

off his hat and moved away with his daughter.

"Ah! ah!" he sighed deeply. "Oh, poor things!"




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