Resurrection

The president, who had to take the chair, had arrived early. The

president was a tall, stout man, with long grey whiskers. Though

married, he led a very loose life, and his wife did the same, so

they did not stand in each other's way. This morning he had

received a note from a Swiss girl, who had formerly been a

governess in his house, and who was now on her way from South

Russia to St. Petersburg. She wrote that she would wait for him

between five and six p.m. in the Hotel Italia. This made him wish

to begin and get through the sitting as soon as possible, so as

to have time to call before six p.m. on the little red-haired

Clara Vasilievna, with whom he had begun a romance in the country

last summer. He went into a private room, latched the door, took

a pair of dumb-bells out of a cupboard, moved his arms 20 times

upwards, downwards, forwards, and sideways, then holding the

dumb-bells above his head, lightly bent his knees three times.

"Nothing keeps one going like a cold bath and exercise," he said,

feeling the biceps of his right arm with his left hand, on the

third finger of which he wore a gold ring. He had still to do the

moulinee movement (for he always went through those two exercises

before a long sitting), when there was a pull at the door. The

president quickly put away the dumb-bells and opened the door,

saying, "I beg your pardon."

One of the members, a high-shouldered, discontented-looking man,

with gold spectacles, came into the room. "Matthew Nikitich has

again not come," he said, in a dissatisfied tone.

"Not yet?" said the president, putting on his uniform. "He is

always late."

"It is extraordinary. He ought to be ashamed of himself," said

the member, angrily, and taking out a cigarette.

This member, a very precise man, had had an unpleasant encounter

with his wife in the morning, because she had spent her allowance

before the end of the month, and had asked him to give her some

money in advance, but he would not give way to her, and they had

a quarrel. The wife told him that if he were going to behave so,

he need not expect any dinner; there would be no dinner for him

at home. At this point he left, fearing that she might carry out

her threat, for anything might be expected from her. "This comes

of living a good, moral life," he thought, looking at the

beaming, healthy, cheerful, and kindly president, who, with

elbows far apart, was smoothing his thick grey whiskers with his

fine white hands over the embroidered collar of his uniform. "He

is always contented and merry while I am suffering."

The secretary came in and brought some document.