“Who knows, ma cousine, maybe he will be another Derzhávin.”
Saying this, he gave me a painful pinch in my cheek. If I did not cry out loud, it was only because I decided to take it as a favour.
The guests departed, papa and Volódya went out; in the drawing-room were left the prince, grandmother, and I.
"Why did not our dear Natálya Nikoláevna come?" suddenly asked Prince Iván Ivánovich, after a moment's silence.
"Ah, mon cher!" answered grandmother, lowering her voice, and putting her hand on the sleeve of his uniform: "She, no doubt, would have come, if she were at liberty to do what she pleases. She writes me that Pierre had proposed her going, but that she had herself declined because, says she, they had had no income this year. She writes, 'Besides, I have no reason to settle in Moscow this year with my whole house. Lyúbochka is too young yet; and as to the boys, who will be living with you, I am more at ease than if they stayed with me.' That is all very nice!" continued grandmother, in a tone that clearly showed she did not find it at all very nice. "The boys ought to have been sent here long ago, to learn something, and to get used to the world, for what kind of an education could they get in the country? The eldest will soon be thirteen years, and the other eleven. You have noticed, mon cousin, they are here like savages, — they do not know how to enter a room."
"I can’t, however, understand," answered the prince, "what is the cause of their eternal complaint about ruinous conditions? He has some very good property, and Natásha’s Khabárovka, where you and I, in times long gone, used to play theatre, I know like the five fingers of my hand; it is a magnificent estate, and ought to bring a nice income."
