The widow Milovídoff's house proved to be in fact just as Kupfer had described it; and the widow herself really did resemble one of Ostróvsky's women of the merchant class, although she was of official rank; her husband had been a Collegiate Assessor.[64] Not without some difficulty did Arátoff, after having preliminarily excused himself for his boldness, and the strangeness of his visit, make the speech which he had prepared, to the effect that he wished to collect all the necessary information concerning the gifted actress who had perished at such an early age; that he was actuated not by idle curiosity, but by a profound sympathy for her talent, of which he was a worshipper (he said exactly that—"a worshipper"); that, in conclusion, it would be a sin to leave the public in ignorance of the loss it had sustained,—and why its hopes had not been realized!
Madame Milovídoff did not interrupt Arátoff; it is hardly probable that she understood very clearly what this strange visitor was saying to her, and she merely swelled a little with pride, and opened her eyes widely at him on perceiving that he had a peaceable aspect, and was decently clad, and was not some sort of swindler … and was not asking for any money.
"Are you saying that about Kátya?" she asked, as soon as Arátoff ceased speaking.
"Exactly so … about your daughter."
"And you have come from Moscow for that purpose?"
"Yes, from Moscow."
"Merely for that?"
"Merely for that."
Madame Milovídoff suddenly took fright.—"Why, you—are an author? Do you write in the newspapers?"
"No, I am not an author,—and up to the present time, I have never written for the newspapers."