[4] Louise Michel (1830-1906), a French anarchist long resident in London.
XIV
A few days later, the ball was held at the Governor's, and Matvei Ilyitch figured thereat as the guest of honour. For his part, the President of the Provincial Council (who was at loggerheads with the Governor) explained at large that only out of respect for Matvei had he deigned to be present, while the Governor continued, even when stationary, his usual process of orders-giving. With Matvei's suavity of demeanour nothing could be compared save his pomposity. Upon every man he smiled—upon some with a hint of superciliousness, upon others with a shade of deference; whilst to the ladies he bowed and scraped en vrai chevalier français, and laughed, throughout, the great, resonant, conspicuous laugh which a bigwig ought to do. Again, he clapped Arkady upon the back, addressed him loudly as "young nephew," and honoured Bazarov (who had been with difficulty coaxed into an ancient tail-coat) both with a distant, yet faintly condescending, glance which skimmed that individual's cheek, and with a vague, but affable, murmur in which there could be distinguished only the fragments "I," "Yes," and "'xtremely." Lastly, he accorded Sitnikov a finger and a smile (in the very act, turning his head away), and bestowed upon Madame Kukshin (who had appeared minus a crinoline and in dirty gloves, but with a bird of paradise stuck in her hair) an "Enchanté!" The throng present was immense; nor was a sufficiency of cavaliers lacking. True, most of the civilian element crowded against the walls, but the military section danced with enthusiasm, especially an officer who, being fresh from six weeks in Paris, where he had become acquainted with daring cries of the type of "Zut!" "Ah, fichtrrre!" "Pst, pst, mon bibi!" and so forth, pronounced these quips to perfection, with true Parisian chic; while also he said "Si j'aurais" for "Si j'avais," and "absolument" in the sense of "certainly." In short, he employed that Franco-Russian jargon which affords the French such intense amusement whenever they do not think it more prudent to assure their Russian friends that the latter speak the tongue of France comme des anges.
As we know, Arkady was a poor dancer, and Bazarov did not dance at all; wherefore the pair sought a corner, and were there joined by Sitnikov. Summoning to his visage his accustomed smile of contempt, and emitting remarks mordantly sarcastic in their nature, the great Sitnikov glanced haughtily about him, and appeared to derive some genuine pleasure from thus striking an attitude. But suddenly his face underwent a change. Turning to Arkady, he said in a self-conscious way: "Here is Madame Odintsov just entering."
Looking up, Arkady beheld, halted in the doorway, a tall woman in a black gown. In particular was he struck with the dignity of her carriage, and with the manner in which her bare arms hung beside her upright figure. From her gleaming hair to her sloping shoulders trailed sprays of fuchsia flowers, while quietly, intelligently—I say quietly, not dreamily—there gazed, with a barely perceptible smile, from under a white and slightly prominent forehead a pair of brilliant eyes. In general, the countenance suggested latent, but gentle, kindly force.
"Do you know her?" Arkady inquired.
"I do—intimately," replied Sitnikov. "Shall I introduce you?"
"If you please; but only when this quadrille has come to an end."
Bazarov's attention also had been caught by this Madame Odintsov.