figure in Petersburg society. He was more silent and depressed than usual, and I said this to rouse him up.
“What is the good of talking like that, for you especially, Másha?” he said with half-closed teeth and frowning as if in pain. “Leave that to others; it does not suit you and me. Pretence of that sort may spoil the true relation between us, which I still hope may come back.”
I was ashamed and said nothing.
“Will it ever come back, Másha, do you think?” he asked.
“It never was spoilt and never will be,” I said; and I really believed this then.
“God grant that you are right!” he said; “if not, we ought to be going home.”
But he only spoke like this once—in general he seemed as satisfied as I was, and I was so gay and so happy! I comforted myself too by thinking, “If he is bored sometimes, I endured the same thing for his sake in the country. If the relation between us has become a little different, everything will be the same again in summer, when we shall be alone in our house at Nikólskoe with Tatyána Semënovna.”
So the winter slipped by, and we stayed on, in spite of our plans, over Easter in Petersburg. A week later we were preparing to start; our packing was all done; my husband who had bought things—plants for the garden and presents for people at Nikólskoe, was in a specially cheerful and affectionate mood. Just then Princess D⸺ came and begged us to stay till the Saturday, in order to be present at a reception to be given by Countess R⸺. The countess was very anxious to secure me, because a foreign prince, who was visiting Petersburg and had seen me already at a ball, wished to make my acquaintance; indeed this was his motive for