"Yes, very few. I 'm not fond of neighbours."
"Tell me,"—I began;—"I believe you had a catastrophe there that same year. Lukyánitch ...."
Madame Shlýkoff's eyes immediately filled with tears.
"And did you know him?"—she said with vivacity.—"Such a misfortune! He was a very fine, good old man ... and just fancy, without any cause, you know ...."
Madame Shlýkoff's sister approached us. She was, in all probability, beginning to be bored by the learned disquisitions of the geologist about the formation of the banks of the Volga.
"Just fancy, Pauline,"—began my companion;—"monsieur knew Lukyánitch."
"Really? Poor old man!"
"I hunted more than once in the environs of Mikhaílovskoe at that period, when you were there three years ago,"—I remarked.
"I?"—returned Pelagéya, in some astonishment.