was in favor, and in your case it’s my evident duty.” She paused. All were silent, expectant of what was to follow, for this was clearly only a prelude.
“A fine lad! My word! A fine lad! … His father lies on his deathbed and he amuses himself setting a policeman astride a bear! For shame, sir, for shame! It would be better if you went to the war.”
She turned away and gave her hand to the count, who could hardly keep from laughing.
“Well, I suppose it is time we were at table?” said Márya Dmítrievna.
The count went in first with Márya Dmítrievna, the countess followed on the arm of a colonel of hussars, a man of importance to them because Nikoláy was to go with him to the regiment; then came Anna Mikháylovna with Shinshín. Berg gave his arm to Véra. The smiling Julie Karágina went in with Nikoláy. After them other couples followed, filling the whole dining hall, and last of all the children, tutors, and governesses followed singly.
The footmen began moving about, chairs scraped, the band struck up in the gallery, and the guests settled down in their places.
Then the strains of the count’s household band were replaced by the clatter of knives and forks, the voices of visitors, and the soft steps of the footmen.
At one end of the table sat the countess with Márya Dmítrievna on her right and Anna Mikháylovna on her left, the other lady visitors were farther down. At the other end sat the count, with the hussar colonel on his left and Shinshín and the other male visitors on his right. Midway down the