celebrities departed and were forgotten, and new celebrities replaced them; and to these last she grew accustomed in time; they lost their charm, so that she sought for more.
She dined at home with her husband at five o'clock. She was in ecstasies over his simplicity, common sense, and good humour. She jumped up from her chair, embraced his head, and covered it with kisses.
"You are a clever, a noble man, Duimoff!” she exclaimed. "You have only one drawback. You take no interest in art. You deny music and painting."
"I don't understand them,” he answered kindly. "All my life I have studied only science and medicine. I have no time for art."
"But that is awful, Duimoff!"
"Why awful? Your friends know nothing of science or medicine, yet you don't blame them for that. To each man his own! I don't understand landscapes or operas, but I look at the matter thus: if talented men devote their lives to such things, and clever men pay vast sums for them, that means they are useful. I don't understand them, but not to understand does not mean to deny."
"Give me your hand! Let me press your honest hand!"
After dinner Olga Ivanovna drove away to her friends; after that followed theatres or concerts. She returned after midnight. And so every day.
