Free Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) by Ivan Turgenev

they are really good for nothing. They either give themselves airs or are unsociable, or else quite unsuitably free and easy. The ladies, as you know, I see nothing of. There is one other of our neighbours said to be a very cultivated, even a learned, man, but a dreadfully queer creature, a whimsical character. Alexandrine , knows him, and I fancy is not indifferent to him.... Come, you ought to talk to her, Dmitri Nikolaitch; she’s a sweet creature. She only wants developing.’
    ‘I liked her very much,’ remarked Rudin.
    ‘A perfect child, Dmitri Nikolaitch, an absolute baby. She has been married, mais c’est tout comme .... If I were a man, I should only fall in love with women like that.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Certainly. Such women are at least fresh, and freshness cannot be put on.’
    ‘And can everything else?’ Rudin asked, and he laughed — a thing which rarely happened with him. When he laughed his face assumed a strange, almost aged appearance, his eyes disappeared, his nose was wrinkled up.
    ‘And who is this queer creature, as you call him, to whom Madame Lipin is not indifferent?’ he asked.
    ‘A certain Lezhnyov, Mihailo Mihailitch, a landowner here.’
    Rudin seemed astonished; he raised his head.
    ‘Lezhnyov — Mihailo Mihailitch?’ he questioned. ‘Is he a neighbour of yours?’
    ‘Yes. Do you know him?’
    Rudin did not speak for a minute.
    ‘I used to know him long ago. He is a rich man, I suppose?’ he added, pulling the fringe on his chair.
    ‘Yes, he is rich, though he dresses shockingly, and drives in a racing droshky like a bailiff. I have been anxious to get him to come here; he is spoken of as clever; I have some business with him.... You know I manage my property myself.’
    Rudin bowed assent.
    ‘Yes; I manage it myself,’ Darya Mihailovna continued. ‘I don’t introduce any foreign crazes, but prefer what is our own, what is Russian, and, as you see, things don’t seem to do badly,’ she added, with a wave of her hand.
    ‘I have always been persuaded,’ observed Rudin urbanely, ‘of the absolutely mistaken position of those people who refuse to admit the practical intelligence of women.’
    Darya Mihailovna smiled affably.
    ‘You are very good to us,’ was her comment ‘But what was I going to say? What were we speaking of? Oh, yes; Lezhnyov: I have some business with him about a boundary. I have several times invited him here, and even to - day I am expecting him; but there’s no knowing whether he’ll come... he’s such a strange creature.’
    The curtain before the door was softly moved aside and the steward came in, a tall man, grey and bald, in a black coat, a white cravat, and a white waistcoat.
    ‘What is it?’ inquired Darya Mihailovna, and, turning a little towards Rudin, she added in a low voice, ‘ n’est ce pas, comme il ressemble a Canning? ’
    ‘Mihailo Mihailitch Lezhnyov is here,’ announced the steward. ‘Will you see him?’
    ‘Good Heavens!’ exclaimed Darya Mihailovna, ‘speak of the devil —   — ask him up.’
    The steward went away.
    ‘He’s such an awkward creature. Now he has come, it’s at the wrong moment; he has interrupted our talk.’
    Rudin got up from his seat, but Darya Mihailovna stopped him.
    ‘Where are you going? We can discuss the matter as well before you. And I want you to analyse him too, as you did Pigasov. When you talk, vous gravez comme avec un burin . Please stay.’ Rudin was going to protest, but after a moment’s thought he sat down.
    Mihailo Mihailitch, whom the reader already knows, came into the room. He wore the same grey overcoat, and in his sunburnt hands he carried the same old foraging cap. He bowed tranquilly to Darya Mihailovna, and came up to the tea - table.
    ‘At last you have favoured me with a visit, Monsieur Lezhnyov!’ began Darya Mihailovna. ‘Pray sit down. You are already acquainted, I hear,’ she continued, with a gesture in Rudin’s direction.
    Lezhnyov looked at Rudin