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That evening at eight o’clock, the guests began to arrive. Madame Perekatov with great affability received and ‘entertained’ the ladies, Mashenka the girls; Sergei Sergeitch talked about the crops with the gentlemen and continually glanced towards his wife. Soon there arrived the young dandies, the officers, intentionally a little late; at last the colonel himself, accompanied by his adjutants, Kister and Lutchkov. He presented them to the lady of the house. Lutchkov bowed without speaking, Kister muttered the customary ‘extremely delighted’… Mr. Perekatov went up to the colonel, pressed his hand warmly and looked him in the face with great cordiality. The colonel promptly looked forbidding. The dancing began. Kister asked Mashenka for a dance. At that time the Ecossaise was still flourishing.

‘Do tell me, please,’ Masha said to him, when, after galloping twenty times to the end of the room, they stood at last, the first couple, ‘why isn’t your friend dancing?’

‘Which friend?’

Masha pointed with the tip of her fan at Lutchkov.

‘He never dances,’ answered Kister.

‘Why did he come then?’

Kister was a little disconcerted. ‘He wished to have the pleasure…’

Mashenka interrupted him. ‘You’ve not long been transferred into our regiment, I think?’

‘Into your regiment,’ observed Kister, with a smile: ‘no, not long.’

‘Aren’t you dull here?’

‘Oh no… I find such delightful society here… and the scenery!’… Kister launched into eulogies of the scenery. Masha listened to him, without raising her head. Avdey Ivanovitch was standing in a corner, looking indifferently at the dancers.

‘How old is Mr. Lutchkov?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Oh… thirty-five, I fancy,’ answered Kister.

‘They say he’s a dangerous man… hot-tempered,’ Masha added hurriedly.

‘He is a little hasty… but still, he’s a very fine man.’

‘They say every one’s afraid of him.’

Kister laughed.

‘And you?’

‘I’m a friend of his.’

‘Really?’

‘Your turn, your turn,’ was shrieked at them from all sides. They started and began galloping again right across the room.

‘Well, I congratulate you,’ Kister said to Lutchkov, going up to him after the dance; ‘the daughter of the house does nothing but ask questions about you.’

‘Really?’ Lutchkov responded scornfully.

‘On my honour! And you know she’s extremely nice-looking; only look at her.’

‘Which of them is she?’

Kister pointed out Masha.

‘Ah, not bad.’ And Lutchkov yawned.

‘Cold-hearted person!’ cried Kister, and he ran off to ask another girl to dance.

Avdey Ivanovitch was extremely delighted at the fact Kister had mentioned to him, though he did yawn, and even yawned loudly. To arouse curiosity flattered his vanity intensely: love he despised–in words–but inwardly he was himself aware that it would be a hard and difficult task for him to win love…. A hard and difficult task for him to win love, but easy and simple enough to wear a mask of indifference, of silent haughtiness. Avdey Ivanovitch was unattractive and no longer young; but on the other hand he enjoyed a terrible reputation–and consequently he had every right to pose. He was used to the bitter, unspoken enjoyment of grim loneliness. It was not the first time he had attracted the attention of women; some had even tried to get upon more friendly terms with him, but he repelled their advances with exasperated obstinacy; he knew that sentiment was not in his line (during tender interviews, avowals, he first became awkward and vulgar, and, through anger, rude to the point of grossness, of insult); he remembered that the two or three women with whom he had at different times been on a friendly footing had rapidly grown cool to him after the first moment of closer intimacy, and had of their own impulse made haste to get away from him… and so he had at last schooled himself to remain an enigma, and to scorn what destiny had denied him…. This is, I fancy, the only sort of scorn people in general do feel. No sort of frank, spontaneous, that is to say good, demonstration of passion suited Lutchkov; he was bound to keep a continual check on himself, even when he was angry. Kister was the only person who was not disgusted when Lutchkov broke into laughter; the kind-hearted German’s eyes shone with the generous delight of sympathy, when he read Avdey his favourite passages from Schiller, while the bully would sit facing him with lowering looks, like a wolf…. Kister danced till he was worn out, Lutchkov never left his corner, scowled, glanced stealthily at Masha, and meeting her eyes, at once threw an expression of indifference into his own. Masha danced three times with Kister. The enthusiastic youth inspired her with confidence. She chatted with him gaily enough, but at heart she was not at ease. Lutchkov engrossed her thoughts.