‘And have you forwarded a petition?’
‘I have, and the chamber has sanctioned it, and notice has been given to the district court, and the temporary division of the local court has … oh!… been notified to be present.’
My mother laughed. ‘I see, Martin Petrovitch, you’ve made every arrangement already—and how quickly. You’ve not spared money, I should say?’
‘No, indeed, madam.’
‘Well, well. And you say you want to consult with me. Well, my little Dmitri can go; and I’ll send Souvenir with him, and speak to Kvitsinsky.… But you haven’t invited Gavrila Fedulitch?’
‘Gavrila Fedulitch—Mr. Zhitkov—has had notice … from me also. As a betrothed, it was only fitting.’
Martin Petrovitch had obviously exhausted all the resources of his eloquence. Besides, it always seemed to me that he did not look altogether favourably on the match my mother had made for his daughter; possibly, he had expected a more advantageous marriage for his darling Evlampia.
He got up from his chair, and made a scrape with his foot. ‘Thank you for your consent.’
‘Where are you off to?’ asked my mother. ‘Stay a bit; I’ll order some lunch to be served you.’