might judge that the visitor was not an inhabitant of the province, a mere casual country neighbour, even one of the richest, but a real Petersburg swell of the highest fashion. He was dressed, too, in the best English style: the coloured border of his white cambric handkerchief peeped in a tiny triangle out of the flat side-pocket of his tweed jacket; a single eyeglass dangled on a rather wide black ribbon; the pale dull tint of his Suede gloves corresponded with the pale grey of his check trousers. Close shorn was Mr. Kallomyetsev, and smoothly shaven; his rather feminine face with its small eyes set close together, its thin depressed nose, and its full red lips, was expressive of the agreeable ease of a well-bred nobleman. It was all affability . . . and it very easily turned vindictive, even coarse; some one or something had but to vex Semyon Petrovitch, to jar on his conservative, patriotic, and religious principles─oh! then he became pitiless! All his elegance evaporated instantly; his soft eyes glowed with an evil light; his little pretty mouth gave forth ugly words and appealed, with piteous whines appealed, to the strong arm of the government!
Semyon Petrovitch's family had sprung from simple market-gardeners, His great grandfather had been known in the parts from which
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