clean), stood a troika-calèche with three horses, that had brought a Petersburg gentleman from the town six miles off.
This gentleman—a well-known and active Liberal member of every Committee—was on every Council, and signed every petition and every address—cunningly framed to appear faithfully loyal, but really very radical. He had come from the town (in which, as an extremely busy man, he was staying only twenty-four hours) to see the old friend and playmate of his childhood, who was almost his adherent.
They disagreed only on the best way of putting their Constitutional principles into practice; and as to that but slightly. The Petersburger was more of a European—even with a slight leaning towards Socialism—and in receipt of a very large salary from the different posts he occupied. Nicholas Semyónovitch, on the other hand, was a pure Russian, Orthodox, a bit of a Slavophil, and the owner of many thousands of acres.
They had had five courses for dinner, which was served in the garden; but the heat made it almost impossible to eat, so that all the work of the cook (who received £50 a year) and of his assistants, who had taken special trouble to prepare dinner for the visitor, was wasted. They had only eaten of the iced fish-soup, and the parti-coloured, prettily shaped ice-pudding, elaborately ornamented with spun sugar and biscuits. Besides the visitor, there had been present at dinner a Liberal doctor, the children’s tutor—a desperately Socialistic, Revolutionary student (but whom Nicholas Semyónovitch was able to keep within bounds)—Nicholas Semyónovitch’s wife, Marie, and their three children; the youngest of whom came only to dessert.
There had been a slight strain during dinner, because Marie, a very nervous woman, was anxious about the derangement of Gógo’s stomach (as is the custom among well-bred people, the name “Gógo” was given to