“Call everybody. Nikolai Andreevich has gone mad.”
“I am not joking, and I must have an answer tomorrow.”
“I will have you locked up,” she said, seriously disturbed at last.
Far into the night the servants heard heated arguments, the voices of the disputants now rising almost to a shout, then laughter, then outbursts of anger from the mistress, a gay retort from him, then dead silence, the sign of restored tranquillity. Vikentev had won the victory, which was indeed a foregone conclusion, for while Vikentev and Marfinka were still uncertain of their feelings, Tatiana Markovna and Marfa Egorovna had long before realised what was coming, and both, although they kept their own counsel, had weighed and considered the matter, and had concluded that the marriage was a suitable one.
“What will Tatiana Markovna say?” cried Marfa Egorovna to her son the next morning as the horses were being put in. “If she does not agree, I will never forgive you for the disgrace it will bring on us, do you hear?”
She herself, in a silk dress and a lace mantle, with yellow gloves and a coquettish fan, might have been a fiancée. When Tatiana Markovna was informed of the arrival of Madame Vikentev, she had her shown into the reception room. Before she herself changed her dress to receive her, Vassilissa had to peer through the doorway to see what kind of toilette the guest had made. Then Tatiana Markovna donned a rustling silk dress with a silver sheen, over which she wore her Turkish shawl; she even tried to put on a pair of diamond earrings, but gave up the attempt impatiently, telling herself that the holes in her ears had grown together. Then she sent word to Vera and Marfinka to change their dresses. In passing she told Vassilissa to set out the best table linen, and the old silver and glass for the breakfast and the dinner table. The cook was ordered to serve chocolate in addition to the usual dishes, and sweets and champagne were ordered. With folded hands, adorned for the occasion with old and costly rings, she stepped solemnly into the reception room. But when she caught sight of her guest’s pleasant face she all but forget the importance of the moment, but pulled herself together in time, and resumed her serious aspect.
Marfa Egorovna rose in friendly haste to meet her hostess, and began: “What ideas my mad boy has!” but restrained herself when she saw Madame Berezhkov’s attitude. They exchanged ceremonious greetings. Tatiana Markovna asked the visitor to sit on the divan, and seated herself stiffly beside her.
“What is the weather like?” she asked. “Had you a windy crossing over the Volga?”
“There was no wind.”
“Did you come by the ferry?”