"Ada, vois, c'est ton père," said Varvara Pavlovna, removing the curls from the child's eyes, and kissing her demonstratively. "Prie-le avec moi."
"C'est là, papa?" the little girl lispingly began to stammer.
"Oui, mon enfant, n'est-ce pas que tu l'aimes?"
But the interview had become intolerable to Lavretsky. ;'
"What melodrama is it just such a scene occurs; in?" he muttered, and left the room.
Varvara Pavlovna remained standing where she was for some time, then she slightly shrugged her shoulders, took the little girl back into the other room, undressed her, and put her to bed. Then she took a book and sat down near the lamp. There she waited about an hour, but at last she went to bed herself.
"Eh bien, madame?" asked her maid,—a Frenchwoman whom she had brought with her from Paris,—as she unlaced her stays.
"Eh bien, Justine!" replied Varvara Pavlovna. "He has aged a great deal, but I think he is just as good as ever. Give me my gloves for the night, and get the gray dress, the high one, ready for to-morrow morning—and don't forget the mutton cutlets for Ada. To be sure it will be difficult to get them here, but we must try."
"A la guerre comme à la guerre!" replied Justine as she put out the light.