PART III
1. CHAPTER I.
(continued)
But Lizabetha Prokofievna felt somewhat consoled when she could
say that one of her girls, Adelaida, was settled at last. "It
will be one off our hands!" she declared aloud, though in private
she expressed herself with greater tenderness. The engagement was
both happy and suitable, and was therefore approved in society.
Prince S. was a distinguished man, he had money, and his future
wife was devoted to him; what more could be desired? Lizabetha
Prokofievna had felt less anxious about this daughter, however,
although she considered her artistic tastes suspicious. But to
make up for them she was, as her mother expressed it, "merry,"
and had plenty of "common-sense." It was Aglaya's future which
disturbed her most. With regard to her eldest daughter,
Alexandra, the mother never quite knew whether there was cause
for anxiety or not. Sometimes she felt as if there was nothing to
be expected from her. She was twenty-five now, and must be fated
to be an old maid, and "with such beauty, too!" The mother spent
whole nights in weeping and lamenting, while all the time the
cause of her grief slumbered peacefully. "What is the matter with
her? Is she a Nihilist, or simply a fool?"
But Lizabetha Prokofievna knew perfectly well how unnecessary was
the last question. She set a high value on Alexandra Ivanovna's
judgment, and often consulted her in difficulties; but that she
was a 'wet hen' she never for a moment doubted. "She is so calm;
nothing rouses her--though wet hens are not always calm! Oh! I
can't understand it!" Her eldest daughter inspired Lizabetha with
a kind of puzzled compassion. She did not feel this in Aglaya's
case, though the latter was her idol. It may be said that these
outbursts and epithets, such as "wet hen "(in which the maternal
solicitude usually showed itself), only made Alexandra laugh.
Sometimes the most trivial thing annoyed Mrs. Epanchin, and drove
her into a frenzy. For instance, Alexandra Ivanovna liked to
sleep late, and was always dreaming, though her dreams had the
peculiarity of being as innocent and naive as those of a child of
seven; and the very innocence of her dreams annoyed her mother.
Once she dreamt of nine hens, and this was the cause of quite a
serious quarrel--no one knew why. Another time she had--it was
most unusual--a dream with a spark of originality in it. She
dreamt of a monk in a dark room, into which she was too
frightened to go. Adelaida and Aglaya rushed off with shrieks of
laughter to relate this to their mother, but she was quite angry,
and said her daughters were all fools.
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