Sanine

Sanine looked attentively at her, and felt inclined to tell her not to

be so silly as to imagine that a man, especially one who had no

employment, could care to remain always in the same place. But it irked

him to have to say such a thing; and he was silent.

Maria Ivanovna took out her pocket-handkerchief and crumpled it

nervously in her fingers. If it had not been for Sarudine's letter and

her consequent distress and anxiety, she would have bitterly resented

her son's rudeness. But, as it was, she merely said: "Ah! yes, the one slinks out of the house like a wolf, and the

other..."

A gesture of resignation completed the sentence.

Sanine looked up quickly, and put down his pen.

"What do you know about it?" he asked.

Suddenly Maria Ivanovna felt ashamed that she had read the letter to

Lida. Turning very red, she replied unsteadily, but with some

irritation: "Thank God, I am not blind! I can see."

"See? You can see nothing," said Sanine, after a moment's reflection,

"and, to prove it allow me to congratulate you on the engagement of

your daughter. She was going to tell you herself, but, after all, it

comes to the same thing."

"What!" exclaimed Maria Ivanovna, drawing herself up. "Lida is going to

be married!"

"To whom?"

"To Novikoff, of course."

"Yes, but what about Sarudine?"

"Oh! he can go to the devil!" exclaimed Sanine angrily. "What's that to

do with you? Why meddle with other people's affairs?"

"Yes, but I don't quite understand, Volodja!" said his mother,

bewildered, while yet in her heart she could hear the joyous refrain,

"Lida's going to be married, going to be married!"

Sanine shrugged his shoulders.

"What is that you don't understand? She was in love with one man, and

now she's in love with another; and to-morrow she'll be in love with a

third. Well, God bless her!"

"What's that you say?" cried Maria Ivanovna indignantly.

Sanine leant against the table and folded his arms.

"In the course of your life did you yourself only love one man?" he

asked angrily.

Maria Ivanovna rose. Her wrinkled face wore a look of chilling pride.

"One shouldn't speak to one's mother like that," she said sharply.

"Who?"

"How do you mean, who?"

"Who shouldn't speak?" said Sanine, as he looked at her from head to

foot. For the first time he noticed how dull and vacant was the

expression in her eyes, and how absurdly her cap was placed upon her

head, like a cock's comb.