“I know he is very stupid and undeveloped, but zealous. If directed properly he can be very useful.”
Next morning the Headmaster of the National Schools, accompanied by the Vice-Governor and Shabalov, started in their carriages from the Headmaster’s offices and drove off to Trirodov’s school in the Prosianiya Meadows. They had not yet fully recovered from the previous day’s carouse. They carried on their indecent, half-tipsy conversations in the midst of nature’s loveliness. They looked like a lot of picnickers.
Zinaida Grigorievna and Kerbakh, who were in one carriage, were engaged in a malicious conversation. They tore their acquaintances to shreds. She began with Poterin’s gloves. Then she related about the suicide of another inspector’s mistress; she drowned herself because she was about to have a child. Then she told about a third inspector who got drunk in a bath-house and got into a tussle there with the mayor of the town.
Shabalov was riding in a trap with Zherbenev.
“It would be good to have a tasty snack,” he said.
“We are sure to get something there,” replied Zherbenev confidently.
The visitors were all confident that they were being awaited. Zinaida Grigorievna said:
“The most interesting part of it will be hidden of course.”
“Yes, but we’ll investigate.”