stories of old times, of those fabulous times when oats and rye were not
sold by measure, but in great sacks, at two or three farthings a sack;
when there were impassable forests, virgin steppes stretching on every
side, even close to the town. "And now," complained the old man, whose
eightieth year had passed, "there has been so much clearing, so much
ploughing everywhere, there's nowhere you may drive now." Anton used to
tell many stories, too, of his mistress, Glafira Petrovna; how prudent
and saving she was; how a certain gentleman, a young neighbour, had paid
her court, and used to ride over to see her, and how she was even
pleased to put on her best cap, with ribbons of salmon colour, and her
yellow gown of tru-tru levantine for him; but how, later on, she had
been angry with the gentleman neighbour for his unseemly inquiry, "What,
madam, pray, might be your fortune?" and had bade them refuse him the
house; and how it was then that she had given directions that, after her
decease, everything to the last rag should pass to Fedor Ivanitch. And,
indeed, Lavretsky found all his aunt's household goods intact, not
excepting the best cap with ribbons of salmon colour, and the yellow
gown of tru-tru levantine. Of old papers and interesting documents, upon
which Lavretsky had reckoned, there seemed no trace, except one old
book, in which his grandfather, Piotr Andreitch, had inscribed in one
place, "Celebration in the city of Saint Petersburg of the peace,
concluded with the Turkish empire by his Excellency Prince Alexander
Alexandrovitch Prozorovsky;" in another place a recipe for a pectoral
decoction with the comment, "This recipe was given to the general's
lady, Prascovya Federovna Soltikov, by the chief priest of the Church of
the Life-giving Trinity, Fedor Avksentyevitch:" in another, a piece of
political news of this kind: "Somewhat less talk of the French tigers;"
and next this entry: "In the Moscow Gazette an announcement of the death
of Mr. Senior-Major Mihal Petrovitch Kolitchev. Is not this the son of
Piotr Vassilyevitch Kolitchev? Lavretsky found also some old calendars
and dream-books, and the mysterious work of Ambodik; many were the
memories stirred by the well-known; but long-forgotten Symbols and
Emblems. In Glafira Petrovna's little dressing-table, Lavretsky found a
small packet, tied up with black ribbon, sealed with black sealing wax,
and thrust away in the very farthest corner of the drawer. In the parcel
there lay face to face a portrait, in pastel, of his father in his
youth, with effeminate curls straying over his brow, with almond-shaped
languid eyes and parted lips, and a portrait, almost effaced, of a pale
woman in a white dress with a white rose in her hand--his mother. Of
herself, Glafira Petrovna had never allowed a portrait to be taken. "I,
myself, little father, Fedor Ivanitch," Anton used to tell Lavretsky,
"though I did not then live in the master's house, still I can remember
your great-grandfather, Andrey Afanasyevitch, seeing that I had come to
my eighteenth year when he died. Once I met him in the garden and my
knees! were knocking with fright indeed; however, he did nothing, only
asked me my name, and sent me to his room for his pocket-handkerchief.
He was a gentleman--how shall I tell you--he didn't look on any one as
better than himself. For your great-grandfather had, I do assure you, a
magic amulet; a monk from Mount Athos made him a present of this amulet.
And he told him, this monk did, "It's for your kindness, Boyar, I give
you this; wear it, and you need not fear judgment." Well, but there,
little father, we know what those times were like; what the master
fancied doing, that he did. Sometimes, if even some gentleman saw fit to
cross him in anything, he would just stare at him and say, "You swim in
shallow water;" that was his favourite saying. And he lived, your
great-grandfather of blessed memory, in a small log-house; and what
goods he left behind him, what silver, and stores of all kinds! All the
storehouses were full and overflowing. He was a manager. That very
decanter, that you were pleased to admire, was his; he used to drink