"But what excuse have we for coming here? Fy, what miserable stairs! I never saw such even in Paris!"
"It's all the same; make up an excuse. Her mother keeps a sort of a pawn shop. Take off your brooch! Hold on! here's a better one: she gives piano lessons. Let's say that you have a niece."
Matrióna for the first time in her life was ashamed of her smashed cheek-bone when she saw Serge's uniform, and especially Julie's magnificence; she had never before met face to face with a woman of such importance. Marya Alekséyevna was in such a state of wonder and indescribable surprise when Matrióna announced that Colonel N——— N——— with his spouse had done themselves the honor of calling! especially those words "with his spouse"!
The gossip that permeated into the circle where Marya Alekséyevna moved, affected exclusively the class of civilians, but the gossip about genuine aristocrats died away in the air before it reached half way down to Marya Alekséyevna; therefore she accepted in the full legal interpretation of the thought the words husband and wife, as Serge and Julie called each other, in accordance with the Parisian fashion. Marya Alekséyevna quickly composed herself and hastened down to meet them.
Serge said that he was very glad of the chance that he had had the evening before, etc., that his wife had a niece, etc., that his wife did not speak Russian, and therefore he was interpreter.
"Yes, I may be grateful to my Creator," said Marya Alekséyevna; "Viérotchka has a great talent for teaching the piano, and I should count it a great piece of luck if she were to visit such a house as yours. Only my little teacher is not very well just now."
Marya Alekséyevna spoke particularly loud, so that Viérotchka might hear and understand the approaching truce. She herself in her admiration, as it were, devoured her visitors with her eyes.
"I don't know whether she's got the strength to come out and give you a proof of her skill on the piano.—Viérotchka, my love, can you come out or not? Only some strangers—there won't be a scene—why won't you come out?"
Viérotchka opened the door, glanced at Serge, and turned crimson with shame and anger. Even unobservant eyes could not have failed to take notice of this, and Julie's eyes
