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"Allow me to observe to you," he piped at last: "all you young people criticize and form judgements on everything at random; you have little knowledge of your own country; Russia, young gentlemen, is an unknown land to you; that's where it is!… You are forever reading German. For instance, now you say this and that and the other about anything; for instance, about the house serfs…. Very fine; I don't dispute it's all very fine; but you don't know them; you don't know the kind of people they are. " (Mr. Zvyerkov blew his nose loudly and took a pinch of snuff. ) "Allow me to tell you as an illustration one little anecdote; it may perhaps interest you. " (Mr. Zverkov cleared his throat. ) "You know, doubtless, what my wife is; it would be difficult, I should imagine, to find a more kind-hearted woman, you will agree. For her waiting-maids, existence is simply a perfect paradise, and no mistake about it…. But my wife has made it a rule never to keep married serving-maids. Certainly it would not do; children come—and one thing and the other—and how is a lady's maid to look after her mistress as she ought, to fit in with her ways; she is no longer able to do it; her mind is on other things. One must look at things through human nature. Well, we were driving once through our village, it must be—let me be correct—yes, fifteen years ago. We saw, at the bailiff's, a young girl, his daughter, very pretty indeed; something even—you know—something of the good servant in her manners. And my wife said to me: 'Koko'—you understand, of course, that is her pet name for me—'let us take this girl to Petersburg; I like her, Koko…. ' I said, 'Let us take her, by all means. ' The bailiff, of course, was at our feet; he could not have expected such good fortune, you can imagine…. Well, the girl, of course, cried violently. Of course, it was hard for her at first; the parental home … and that sort of thing … there was nothing surprising in that. However, she soon got used to us: at first we put her in the maidservants' room; they trained her, of course. And what do you think? The girl made wonderful progress; my wife became simply devoted to her, promoted her at last above the rest to wait on herself … observe…. And one must do her the justice to say, my wife had never such a maid, absolutely never; attentive, modest, and obedient—simply all that could be desired. My wife was very good to her; she even spoilt her, I must confess; she dressed her well, fed her from our own table, gave her tea to drink, and so on, as you can imagine! So she waited on my wife like this for ten years. Suddenly, one fine morning, picture to yourself, Arina—her name was Arina—rushes unannounced into my study and flops down at my feet. That's a thing, I tell you plainly, I can't endure. No human being ought ever to lose sight of his personal dignity. Am I not right? 'What do you want?' 'Your honour, Alexander Silitch, I beseech a favour of you. ' 'What favour?' 'Let me be married. ' I must confess I was taken aback. 'But you know, you fool, your mistress has no other lady's maid?' 'I will wait on Mistress as before. ' 'Nonsense! Nonsense! Your mistress can't endure married serving-maids. ' 'Malanya could take my place. ' 'Don't argue with me. ' 'I obey your will. ' I must confess it was quite a shock. I assure you, I am like that; nothing wounds me so—nothing, I venture to say, wounds me so deeply as ingratitude. I need not tell you—you know what my wife is: an angel upon earth, goodness inexhaustible. One would fancy even the worst of men would be ashamed to hurt her. Well, I sent Arina away. I thought, perhaps, she would come to her senses; I was unwilling, do you know, to believe in wicked, black ingratitude in anyone. What do you think? Within six months she thought fit to come to me again with the same request. And here I must confess I turned her out in a temper and threatened to tell my wife about it. I felt revolted. But imagine my amazement when, some time later, my wife comes to me in tears, so agitated that I felt positively alarmed. 'What has happened?' 'Arina…. You understand…. I am ashamed to tell it. ' 'Impossible! Who is the man?' 'Petrushka, the footman. ' My indignation broke out then. I am like that. I don't like half-measures! Petrushka—well, he wasn't to blame. We might flog him, but in my opinion he was not to blame. Arina…. Well, well, well! What more's to be said? I gave orders, of course, that her hair should be cut off, she should be dressed in sackcloth, and sent back to the village. My wife was deprived of an excellent lady's maid; but there was no help for it: immorality cannot be tolerated in a household in any case. Better to cut off the infected member at once. There, there! now you can judge the thing for yourself—you know that my wife is … yes, yes, yes! indeed! … an angel! She had grown attached to Arina, and Arina knew it, and had the face to…. Eh? no, tell me … eh? And what's the use of talking about it. Anyway, there was no help for it. I, indeed—I, in particular, felt hurt, felt wounded for a long time by the ingratitude of thi
s girl. Whatever you say—it's no good to look for feeling, for heart, in these people! You may feed the wolf as you will; he has always a hankering for the woods. It was a good lesson! But I only wanted to give you an example…. "