sed　to　her　frequent　visits　when　she　was　a　little　girl；　her　presence　does　not　prevent　me　from　concentrating　my　attention。　From　time　to　time　I　mechanically　ask　her　some　question；　she　gives　very　brief　replies；　or；　to　rest　for　a　minute；　I　turn　round　and　watch　her　as　she　looks　dreamily　at　some　medical　journal　or　review。　And　at　such　moments　I　notice　that　her　face　has　lost　the　old　look　of　confiding　trustfulness。　Her　expression　now　is　cold；　apathetic；　and　absent…minded；　like　that　of　passengers　who　had　to　wait　too　long　for　a　train。　She　is　dressed；　as　in　old　days；　simply　and　beautifully；　but　carelessly；　her　dress　and　her　hair　show　visible　traces　of　the　sofas　and　rocking…chairs　in　which　she　spends　whole　days　at　a　stretch。　And　she　has　lost　the　curiosity　she　had　in　old　days。　She　has　ceased　to　ask　me　questions　now；　as　though　she　had　experienced　everything　in　life　and　looked　for　nothing　new　from　it。
  Towards　four　o'clock　there　begins　to　be　sounds　of　movement　in　the　hall　and　in　the　drawing…room。　Liza　has　come　back　from　the　Conservatoire；　and　has　brought　some　girl…friends　in　with　her。　We　hear　them　playing　on　the　piano；　trying　their　voices　and　laughing；　in　the　dining…room　Yegor　is　laying　th　e　table；　with　the　clatter　of　crockery。
  〃Good…bye；〃　said　Katya。　〃I　won't　go　in　and　see　your　people　today。　They　must　excuse　me。　I　haven't　time。　Come　and　see　me。〃
  While　I　am　seeing　her　to　the　door；　she　looks　me　up　and　down　grimly；　and　says　with　vexation：
  〃You　are　getting　thinner　and　thinner！　Why　don't　you　consult　a　doctor？　I'll　call　at　Sergey　Fyodorovitch's　and　ask　him　to　have　a　look　at　you。〃
  〃There's　no　need；　Katya。〃
  〃I　can't　think　where　your　people's　eyes　are！　They　are　a　nice　lot；　I　must　say！〃
  She　puts　on　her　fur　coat　abruptly；　and　as　she　does　so　two　or　three　hairpins　drop　unnoticed　on　the　floor　from　her　carelessly　arranged　hair。　She　is　too　lazy　and　in　too　great　a　hurry　to　do　her　hair　up；　she　carelessly　stuffs　the　falling　curls　under　her　hat；　and　goes　away。
  When　I　go　into　the　dining…room　my　wife　asks　me：
  〃Was　Katya　with　you　just　now？　Why　didn't　she　come　in　to　see　us？　It's　really　strange　。　。　。　。〃
  〃Mamma；〃　Liza　says　to　her　reproachfully；　〃let　her　alone；　if　she　doesn't　want　to。　We　are　not　going　down　on　our　knees　to　her。〃
  〃It's　very　neglectful；　anyway。　To　sit　for　three　hours　in　the　study　without　remembering　our　existence！　But　of　course　she　must　do　as　she　likes。〃
  Varya　and　Liza　both　hate　Katya。　This　hatred　is　beyond　my　comprehension；　and　probably　one　would　have　to　be　a　woman　in　order　to　understand　it。　I　am　ready　to　stake　my　life　that　of　the　hundred　and　fifty　young　men　I　see　every　day　in　the　lecture…theatre；　and　of　the　hundred　elderly　ones　I　meet　every　week；　hardly　one　could　be　found　capable　of　understanding　their　hatred　and　aversion　for　Katya's　past　　that　is；　for　her　having　been　a　mother　without　being　a　wife；　and　for　her　having　had　an　illegitimate　child；　and　at　the　same　time　I　cannot　recall　one　woman　or　girl　of　my　acquaintance　who　would　not　consciously　or　unconsciously　harbour　such　feelings。　And　this　is　not　because　woman　is　purer　or　more　virtuous　than　man：　why；　virtue　and　purity　are　not　very　different　from　vice　if　they　are　not　free　from　evil　feeling。　I　attribute　this　simply　to　the　backwardness　of　woman。　The　mournful　feeling　of　compassion　and　the　pang　of　conscience　experienced　by　a　modern　man　at　the　sight　of　suffering　is；　to　my　mind；　far　greater　proof　of　culture　and　moral　elevation　than　hatred　and　aversion。　Woman　is　as　tearful　and　as　coarse　in　her　feelings　now　as　she　was　in　the　Middle　Ages；　and　to　my　thinking　those　who　advise　that　she　should　be　educated　like　a　man　are　quite　right。
  My　wife　also　dislikes　Katya　for　having　been　an　actress；　for　ingratitude；　for　pride；　for　eccentricity；　and　for　the　numerous　vices　which　one　woman　can　always　find　in　another。
  Besides　my　wife　and　daughter　and　me；　there　are　dining　with　us　two　or　three　of　my　daughter's　friends　and　Alexandr　Adolfovitch　Gnekker；　her　admirer　and　suitor。　He　is　a　fair…haired　young　man　under　thirty；　of　medium　height；　very　stout　and　broad…shouldered；　with　red　whiskers　near　his　ears；　and　little　waxed　moustaches　which　make　his　plump　smooth　face　look　like　a　toy。　He　is　dressed　in　a　very　short　reefer　jacket；　a　flowered　waistcoat；　breeches　very　full　at　the　top　and　very　narrow　at　the　ankle；　with　a　large　check　pattern　on　them；　and　yellow　boots　without　heels。　He　has　prominent　eyes　like　a　crab's；　his　cravat　is　like　a　crab's　neck；　and　I　even　fancy　there　is　a　smell　of　crab…soup　about　the　young　man's　whole　person。　He　visits　us　every　day；　but　no　one　in　my　family　knows　anything　of　his　origin　nor　of　the　place　of　his　education；　nor　of　his　means　of　livelihood。　He　neither　plays　nor　sings；　but　has　some　connection　with　music　and　singing；　sells　somebody's　pianos　somewhere；　is　frequently　at　the　Conservatoire；　is　acquainted　with　all　the　celebrities；　and　is　a　steward　at　the　concerts；　he　criticizes　music　with　great　authority；　and　I　have　noticed　that　people　are　eager　to　agree　with　him。
  Rich　people　always　have　dependents　hanging　about　them；　the　arts　and　sciences　have　the　same。　I　believe　there　is　not　an　art　nor　a　science　in　the　world　free　from　〃foreign　bodies〃　after　the　style　of　this　Mr。　Gnekker。　I　am　not　a　musician；　and　possibly　I　am　mistaken　in　regard　to　Mr。　Gnekker；　of　whom；　indeed；　I　know　very　little。　But　his　air　of　authority　and　the　dignity　with　which　he　takes　his　stand　beside　the　piano　when　any　one　is　playing　or　singing　strike　me　as　very　suspicious。
  You　may　be　ever　so　much　of　a　gentleman　and　a　privy　councillor；　but　if　you　have　a　daughter　you　cannot　be　secure　of　immunity　from　that　petty　bourgeois　atmosphere　which　is　so　often　brought　into　your　house　and　into　your　mood　by　the　attentions　of　suitors；　by　matchmaking　and　marriage。　I　can　never　reconcile　myself；　for　instance；　to　the　expression　of　triumph　on　my　wife's　face　every　time　Gnekker　is　in　our　company；　nor　can　I　reconcile　myself　to　the　bottles　of　Lafitte；　port　and　sherry　which　are　only　brought　out　on　his　account；　that　he　may　see　with　his　own　eyes　the　liberal　and　luxurious　way　in　which　we　live。　I　cannot　tolerate　the　habit　of　spasmodic　laughter　Liza　has　picked　up　at　the　Conservatoire；　and　her　way　of　screwing　up　her　eyes　whenever　there　are　men　in　the　room。　Above　all；　I　cannot　understand　why　a　creature　utterly　alien　to　my　habits；　my　studies；　my　whole　manner　of　life；　completely　different　from　the　people　I　like；　should　come　and　see　me　every　day；　and　every　day　should　dine　with　me。　My　wife　and　my　servants　mysteriously　whisper　that　he　is　a　suitor；　but　still　I　don't　understand　his　presence；　it　rouses　in　me　the　same　wonder　and　perplexity　as　if　they　were　to　set　a　Zulu　beside　me　at　the　table。　And　it　seems　strange　to　me；　too；　that　my　daughter；　whom　I　am　used　to　thinking　of　as　a　child；　should　love　that　cravat；　those　eyes；　those　soft　cheeks。　。　。　。
  In　the　old　days　I　used　to　like　my　dinner；　or　at　least　was　indifferent　about　it；　now　it　excites　in　me　no　feeling　but　weariness　and　irritation。　Ever　since　I　became　an　〃Excellency〃　and　one　of　the　Deans　of　the　Faculty　my　family　has　for　some　reason　found　it　necessary　to　make　a　complete　change　in　our　menu　and　dining　habits。　Instead　of　the　simple　dishes　to　which　I　was　accustomed　when　I　was　a　student　and　when　I　was　in　practice；　now　they　feed　me　with　a　puree　with　little　white　things　like　circles　floating　about　in　it；　and　kidneys　stewed　in　madeira。　My　rank　as　a　general　and　my　fame　have　robbed　me　for　ever　of　cabbage…soup　and　savoury　pies；　and　goose　with　apple…sauce；　and　bream　with　boiled　grain。　They　have　robbed　me　of　our　maid…servant　Agasha；　a　chatty　and　laughter…loving　old　woman；　instead　of　whom　Yegor；　a　dull…witted　and　conceited　fellow　with　a　white　glove　on　his　right　hand；　waits　at　dinner。　The　intervals　between　the　courses　are　short；　but　they　seem　immensely　long　because　there　is　nothing　to　occupy　them。　There　is　none　of　the　gaiety　of　the　old　days；　the　spontaneous　talk；　the　jokes；　the　laughter；　there　is　nothing　of　mutual　affection　and　the　joy　which　used　to　animate　the　children；　my　wife；　and　me　when　in　old　days　we　met　together　at　meals。　For　me；　the　celebrated　man　of　science；　dinner　was　a　time　of　rest　and　reunion；　and　for　my　wife　and　children　a　fete　　brief　indeed；　but　bright　and　joyous　　in　which　they　knew　that　for　half　an　hour　I　belonged；　not　to　science；　not　to　students；　but　to　them　alone。　Our　real　exhilaration　from　one　glass　of　wine　is　gone　for　ever；　gone　is　Agasha；　gone　the　bream　with　boiled　grain；　gone　the　uproar　that　greeted　every　little　startling　incident　at　dinner；　such　as　the　cat　and　dog　fighting　under　the　table；　or　Katya's　bandage　falling　off　her　face　into　her　soup…plate。
  To　describe　our　dinner　nowadays　is　as　uninteresting　as　to　eat　it。　My　wife's　face　wears　a　look　of　triumph　and　affected　dignity；　and　her　habitual　expression　of　anxiety。　She　looks　at　our　plates　and　says；　〃I　see　you　don't　care　for　the　joint。　Tell　me；　you　don't　like　it；　do　you？〃　and　I　am　obliged　to　answer：　〃There　is　no　need　for　you　to　trouble；　my　dear；　the　meat　is　very　nice。〃　And　she　will　say：　〃You　always　stand　up　for　me；　Nikolay　Stepanovitch；　and　you　never　tell　the　truth。　Why　is　Alexandr　Adolfovitch　eating　so　little？〃　And　so　on　in　the　same　style　all　through　dinner。　Liza　laughs　spasmodically　and　screws　up　her　eyes。　I　watch　them　both；　and　it　is　only　now　at　dinner　tha