to, or what dowry he could give Véra. When his daughters were born he had assigned to each of them, for her dowry, an estate with three hundred serfs; but one of these estates had already been sold, and the other was mortgaged and the interest so much in arrears that it would have to be sold, so that it was impossible to give it to Véra. Nor had he any money.
Berg had already been engaged a month, and only a week remained before the wedding, but the count had not yet decided in his own mind the question of the dowry, nor spoken to his wife about it.
At one time the count thought of giving her the Ryazán estate or of selling a forest, at another time of borrowing money on a note of hand.
A few days before the wedding Berg entered the count’s study early one morning and, with a pleasant smile, respectfully asked his future father-in-law to let him know what Véra’s dowry would be.
The count was so disconcerted by this long-foreseen inquiry that without consideration he gave the first reply that came into his head.
“I like your being businesslike about it. … I like it. You shall be satisfied. …”
And patting Berg on the shoulder he got up, wishing to end the conversation. But Berg, smiling pleasantly, explained that if he did not know for certain how much Véra would have and did not receive at least part of the dowry in advance, he would have to break matters off.
“Because, consider, Count—if I allowed myself to marry now without having definite means to maintain my wife, I should be acting badly. …”
The conversation ended by the count, who wished