Resurrection

"Please to walk in, your excellency," said the friendly, fat

doorkeeper of the Korchagins' big house, opening the door, which

moved noiselessly on its patent English hinges; "you are

expected. They are at dinner. My orders were to admit only you."

The doorkeeper went as far as the staircase and rang.

"Are there any strangers?" asked Nekhludoff, taking off his

overcoat.

"Mr. Kolosoff and Michael Sergeivitch only, besides the family."

A very handsome footman with whiskers, in a swallow-tail coat and

white gloves, looked down from the landing.

"Please to walk up, your excellency," he said. "You are expected."

Nekhludoff went up and passed through the splendid large

dancing-room, which he knew so well, into the dining-room. There

the whole Korchagin family--except the mother, Sophia Vasilievna,

who never left her cabinet--were sitting round the table. At the

head of the table sat old Korchagin; on his left the doctor, and

on his right, a visitor, Ivan Ivanovitch Kolosoff, a former

Marechal de Noblesse, now a bank director, Korchagin's friend and

a Liberal. Next on the left side sat Miss Rayner, the governess

of Missy's little sister, and the four-year-old girl herself.

Opposite them, Missy's brother, Petia, the only son of the

Korchagins, a public-school boy of the Sixth Class. It was

because of his examinations that the whole family were still in

town. Next to him sat a University student who was coaching him,

and Missy's cousin, Michael Sergeivitch Telegin, generally called

Misha; opposite him, Katerina Alexeevna, a 40-year-old maiden

lady, a Slavophil; and at the foot of the table sat Missy

herself, with an empty place by her side.

"Ah! that's right! Sit down. We are still at the fish," said old

Korchagin with difficulty, chewing carefully with his false

teeth, and lifting his bloodshot eyes (which had no visible lids

to them) to Nekhludoff.

"Stephen!" he said, with his mouth full, addressing the stout,

dignified butler, and pointing with his eyes to the empty place.

Though Nekhludoff knew Korchagin very well, and had often seen

him at dinner, to-day this red face with the sensual smacking

lips, the fat neck above the napkin stuck into his waistcoat, and

the whole over-fed military figure, struck him very disagreeably.

Then Nekhludoff remembered, without wishing to, what he knew of

the cruelty of this man, who, when in command, used to have men

flogged, and even hanged, without rhyme or reason, simply because

he was rich and had no need to curry favour.

"Immediately, your excellency," said Stephen, getting a large

soup ladle out of the sideboard, which was decorated with a

number of silver vases. He made a sign with his head to the

handsome footman, who began at once to arrange the untouched

knives and forks and the napkin, elaborately folded with the

embroidered family crest uppermost, in front of the empty place

next to Missy. Nekhludoff went round shaking hands with every

one, and all, except old Korchagin and the ladies, rose when he

approached. And this walk round the table, this shaking the hands

of people, with many of whom he never talked, seemed unpleasant

and odd. He excused himself for being late, and was about to sit

down between Missy and Katerina Alexeevna, but old Korchagin

insisted that if he would not take a glass of vodka he should at

least take a bit of something to whet his appetite, at the side

table, on which stood small dishes of lobster, caviare, cheese,

and salt herrings. Nekhludoff did not know how hungry he was

until he began to eat, and then, having taken some bread and

cheese, he went on eating eagerly.