"But how plain Mimi is growing," said Aunt Sophy. "And why is she getting so sickly?"
"She has an old husband," says Aunt Mary shortly.
"Oh, how can you talk like that?" says Aunt Julia reproachfully. "And, after all; old, old ... Enfin elle a un enfant. Qu'est ce qu'elle a à se plaindre?"
"Annette thinks that she has never been quite strong since her confinement, her confinement and the chloroform, and..
"That's an old story! On the contrary, she improved so much then."
"And I am convinced that she is simply ill from want of something to do," says Aunt Julia severely. "Why, for whole days she doesn't move one finger over another. Look at my Zina; she orders the dinner and pours out the tea, then she attends classes, then she practises her voice.... Every minute is occupied. And look what a colour the girl has, how healthy she is. People say, Petersburg, Petersburg.... Rubbish! You can be healthy anywhere. But Mimotchka.... If I led such a life I should have been dead long ago."
And the aunts are perfectly right. Mimotchka is getting plain, Mimotchka is dull, and Mimotchka does nothing.
Mamma loves her so tenderly that she considers every occupation, even of the slightest and easiest description, to be beyond Mimi's strength and too much for her. All the cares of the housekeeping, all the care of the child, mamma takes upon herself, leaving Mimotchka to drive, dress, go out, and receive. At first these occupations had satisfied Mimotchka, but now they wearied her. Yes, nothing satisfies her now.... To quote the words of Schopenhauer—she had lost appetite for life....
And by the side of the apathy taking possession of her there grows an instinctive feeling of irritation against mamma and Spiridon Ivanovitch—a feeling of irritation very near to antipathy. She does not know in what way they interfere with her or of what they deprive her. She only knows that each day they become stranger and more wearisome to her. She feels confusedly that the life they have made for themselves is warm and pleasant to them, while she is entangled in it and struggles like a fly in a spider's web. And she cannot extricate herself from this spider's web because it is woven of the tenderest care for her. If she goes to the theatre, or to an evening party, either mamma or Spiridon Ivanovitch invariably accompanies her, and she cannot say a word, or make a step that is not known to them and commented upon. Mimotchka sees that Spiridon Ivanovitch is simply jealous—of course he is, even the aunts notice it. But he will not own to it, and his distrust is disguised in phrases such as, "That is not usual in society.... It will look awkward.... People don't do so." So that altogether Mimotchka becomes daily more and more indifferent to life.
Mamma and Spiridon Ivanovitch get on very well together, and soon become fast friends. They understand each other almost without speaking. Spiridon Ivanovitch's reviews, committees, and projects deeply interest mamma, who, even during her late husband's lifetime, had been accustomed to hearing about military matters. Mimotchka considers everything relating to her husband's military service stupid and dull. It seems to her that he talks on purpose before mamma about "Committees, re-or-ga-ni-sa-tion.... With bayonets or without bayonets." And mamma actually replies as if it interests her! Besides conversations about the service they have conversations about the education of children, which she also detests. Mimotchka knows that however you may educate children, whatever books you may read, they will scream and soil their pinafores just the same, and then be tiresome and disobedient. And theories are no use at all. You must have a good nurse and be able to pay her good wages. What is the use of saying the same things over and over again?