“I would not have worried you, my dear fellow, but really there is no one here but you I can appeal to. You know what people are like about here.”

“To be sure, to be sure, to be sure.⁠ ⁠… Yes.”

I thought that as we were going to have a serious, business consultation in which anyone might take part, regardless of their position or personal relations, why should I not invite Natalya Gavrilovna.

“ Tres faciunt collegium ,” I said gaily. “What if we were to ask Natalya Gavrilovna? What do you think? Fenya,” I said, turning to the maid, “ask Natalya Gavrilovna to come upstairs to us, if possible at once. Tell her it’s a very important matter.”

A little later Natalya Gavrilovna came in. I got up to meet her and said:

“Excuse us for troubling you, Natalie. We are discussing a very important matter, and we had the happy thought that we might take advantage of your good advice, which you will not refuse to give us. Please sit down.”

Ivan Ivanitch kissed her hand while she kissed his forehead; then, when we all sat down to the table, he, looking at her tearfully and blissfully, craned forward to her and kissed her hand again. She was dressed in black, her hair was carefully arranged, and she smelt of fresh scent. She had evidently dressed to go out or was expecting somebody. Coming into the dining room, she held out her hand to me with simple friendliness, and smiled to me as graciously as she did to Ivan Ivanitch⁠—that pleased me; but as she talked she moved her fingers, often and abruptly leaned back in her chair and talked rapidly, and this jerkiness in her words and movements irritated me and reminded me of her native town⁠—Odessa, where the society, men and women alike, had wearied me by its bad taste.