“She does not think before she speaks,” said Leonti. “But tell me what the condition is.”
“That you never mention these books to me again, even if Mark tears them to pieces.”
“Do you mean I am not to let him have access to them?”
“He is not likely to ask you,” put in Juliana Andreevna. “As if that monster cared for what you may say.”
“How Ulinka loves me,” said Leonti to Raisky. “Would that every woman loved her husband like that.”
He embraced her. She dropped her eyes, and the smile died from her face.
“But for her you would not see a single button on my clothes,” continued Leonti. “I eat and sleep comfortably, and our household goes on evenly and placidly. However small my means are she knows how to make them provide for everything.” She raised her eyes, and looked at them, for the last statement was true. “It’s a pity,” continued Leonti, “that she does not care about books. She can chatter French fast enough, but if you give her a book, she does not understand half of it. She still writes Russian incorrectly. If she sees Greek characters, she says they would make a good pattern for cotton printing, and sets the book upside down. And she cannot even read a Latin title.”
“That will do. Not another word about the books. Only on that condition, I don’t send them to the Gymnasium. Now let us sit down to table, or I shall go to my Grandmother’s, for I am famished.”
“Do you intend to spend your whole life like this?” asked Raisky as he was sitting after dinner alone with Leonti in the study.
“Yes, what more do I need?”