“You wouldn’t believe, you can’t imagine, Polenka,” she said, walking about the room, “what a happy luxurious life we had in my papa’s house and how this drunkard has brought me, and will bring you all, to ruin! Papa was a civil colonel and only a step from being a governor; so that everyone who came to see him said, ‘We look upon you, Ivan Mihailovitch, as our governor!’ When I⁠ ⁠… when⁠ ⁠…” she coughed violently, “oh, cursed life,” she cried, clearing her throat and pressing her hands to her breast, “when I⁠ ⁠… when at the last ball⁠ ⁠… at the marshal’s⁠ ⁠… Princess Bezzemelny saw me⁠—who gave me the blessing when your father and I were married, Polenka⁠—she asked at once ‘Isn’t that the pretty girl who danced the shawl dance at the breaking-up?’ (You must mend that tear, you must take your needle and darn it as I showed you, or tomorrow⁠—cough, cough, cough⁠—he will make the hole bigger,” she articulated with effort.) “Prince Schegolskoy, a kammerjunker