"Permit me, Your Excellency, to finish it myself," said the artist, rising. "I feel a presence."
"Very well; finish it," said the general with austerity, and went, with firm, long strides, into the cabinet.
"Glad to see you," said the general in a rough voice to Nekhludoff, pointing to an arm-chair near the desk. "How long have you been in St. Petersburg?"
Nekhludoff said that he had but lately arrived.
"Is your mother, the Princess, well?"
"My mother is dead."
"Beg pardon; I was very sorry. My son told me that he had met you."
The general's son was making the same career as his father, and was very proud of the business with which he was entrusted.
"Why, I served with your father. We were friends, comrades. Are you in service?"
"No, I am not."