“In the country once a Baron
Dwelt in simplicity rural....”
In consequence of this peculiarity of Iván Ílitch’s, he was also called “The Hawfinch,” because, as is well known, the hawfinch when in captivity sings only once in the course of the day, early in the morning. Such was Iván Ílitch Bodryakóff.
The conversation between Ipátoff and Vladímir Sergyéitch lasted for quite a long time, but not in its original, so to speak, speculative direction. The little old man questioned Vladímir Sergyéitch about his estate, the condition of his forests and other sorts of land, the improvements which he had already introduced or was only intending to introduce in his farming; he imparted to him several of his own observations; advised him, among other things, in order to get rid of hummocky pastures, to sprinkle them with oats, which, he said, would induce the pigs to plough them up with their snouts, and so forth. But, at last, perceiving that Vladímir Sergyéitch was so sleepy that he could hardly keep his eyes open, and that a certain deliberation and incoherence were making themselves evident in his speech, the little old man rose, and, with a courteous obeisance, declared that he would not incommode him any longer with his presence, but that he hoped to have the pleasure of seeing the valued guest at his own house not later than the following day, at dinner.
“And the first person you meet, not to mention any small child, but, so to speak, any hen or peasant-woman,”—he added,—“will point out to you the road to my village. All you have to do is to ask for Ipátoff. The horses will trot there of themselves.”
Vladímir Sergyéitch replied with a little hesitation—which, however, was natural to him—that he would try ... that if nothing prevented....
“Yes, we shall certainly expect you,”—the little old man interrupted him, cordially, shook his hand warmly, and briskly withdrew, exclaiming in the doorway, as he half turned round:—“Without ceremony!”
“Folding Soul” Bodryakóff bowed in silence and vanished in the wake of his companion, with a preliminary stumble on the threshold.
Having seen his unexpected guests off, Vladímir Sergyéitch immediately undressed, got into bed, and went to sleep.
Vladímir Sergyéitch Astákhoff belonged to the category of people who, after having cautiously tested their powers in two or three different careers, are wont to say of themselves that they have finally come to the conclusion to look at life from a practical point of view, and who devote their leisure to augmenting their revenues. He was not stupid, was rather penurious, and very sensible; was fond of reading, of society, of music—but all in moderation ... and bore himself very decorously. He was twenty-seven years old. A great many young men of his sort have sprung up recently. He was of medium height, well built, and had agreeable though small features; their expression almost never varied; his eyes always gleamed with one and the same stern, bright glance; only now and then did this glance soften with a faint shade of something which was not precisely sadness, nor yet precisely boredom; a courteous smile rarely quitted his lips. He had very handsome, fair hair, silky, and falling in long ringlets. Vladímir Sergyéitch owned about six hundred souls[14] on a good estate, and he was thinking of marriage—a marriage of inclination, but which should, at the same time, be advantageous. He was particularly desirous of finding a wife with powerful connections. In a word, he merited the appellation of “gentleman” which had recently come into vogue.
When he rose on the following morning, very early, according to his wont, our gentleman occupied himself with business, and, we must do him the justice to say, did so in a decidedly practical manner, which cannot always be said of practical young men among us in Russia. He patiently listened to the confused petitions and complaints of the peasants, gave them satisfaction so far as he was able, investigated the quarrels and dissensions which had arisen between relatives, exhorted some, scolded others, audited the clerk’s accounts, brought to light two or three rascalities on the part of the overseer—in a word, handled matters in such wise that he was very well satisfied with himself, and the peasants, as they returned from the assembly to their homes, spoke well of him.