Having heard that the hussar officer was the son of Count Fyódor Toúrbin, Anna Fyódorovna began to bustle about.
“Oh, dear me! The darling boy! … Daniel! run quick and say your mistress asks them to her house,” she began, jumping up and hurrying with quick steps into the servants’ room. “Lizzie! Oustúshka! … Your room must be got ready, Lisa; you can go into your uncle’s room, and you, brother, you’ll not mind sleeping in the drawing-room, brother? It’s only for one night.”
“I don’t mind, sister. I can sleep on the floor.”
“He’s handsome I should think, if he’s like his father. Only to have a look at him, the darling. … There now, you look at him, Lisa! The father was handsome. Where are you taking that table to? Leave it here,” said Anna Fyódorovna, bustling about. “Bring two beds—take one from the foreman’s—and get the crystal candlestick brother gave me for my birthday—it’s on the whatnot—and put in a stearine candle.”
At last everything was ready. In spite of her mother’s interference, Lisa arranged the room for the two officers her own way. She took out clean bedclothes scented with mignonette, and made the beds; had a bottle of water and candles put on a little table near the beds; fumigated the servants’ room with scented paper, and moved her own bedding into her uncle’s room. Anna Fyódorovna quieted down a little, settled in her own place, and even took up the cards again, but instead of laying them out she leaned her plump elbow on the table and became thoughtful.
“Ah, time, time, how it flies!” she whispered to herself. “Is it so long ago?—it is as if I could see him now. Ah, he was a madcap! …” and tears came into her eyes. “And now there’s Lizzie …