In the town he was called Radish, and they declared that this was his real name.  He was as fond of the theatre as I was, and as soon as rumours reached him that a performance was being got up he threw aside all his work and went to the Azhogins’ to paint scenes.

The day after my talk with my sister, I was working at the Azhogins’ from morning till night.  The rehearsal was fixed for seven o’clock in the evening, and an hour before it began all the amateurs were gathered together in the hall, and the eldest, the middle, and the youngest Azhogins were pacing about the stage, reading from manuscript books.  Radish, in a long rusty-red overcoat and a scarf muffled round his neck, already stood leaning with his head against the wall, gazing with a devout expression at the stage.  Madame Azhogin went up first to one and then to another guest, saying something agreeable to each.  She had a way of gazing into one’s face, and speaking softly as though telling a secret.

“It must be difficult to paint scenery,” she said softly, coming up to me.  “I was just talking to Madame Mufke about superstitions when I saw you come in.  My goodness, my whole life I have been waging war against superstitions!  To convince the servants what nonsense all their terrors are, I always light three candles, and begin all my important undertakings on the thirteenth of the month.”

Dolzhikov’s daughter came in, a plump, fair beauty, dressed, as people said, in everything from Paris.  She did not act, but a chair was set for her on the stage at the rehearsals, and the performances never began till she had appeared in the front row, dazzling and astounding everyone with her fine clothes.  As a product of the capital she was allowed to make remarks during the rehearsals; and she did so with a sweet indulgent smile, and one could see that she looked upon our performance as a childish amusement.  It was said she had studied singing at the Petersburg Conservatoire, and even sang for a whole winter in a private opera.  I thought her very charming, and I usually watched her through the rehearsals and performances without taking my eyes off her.

I had just picked up the manuscript book to begin prompting when my sister suddenly made her appearance.  Without taking off her cloak or hat, she came up to me and said: 

“Come along, I beg you.”

I went with her.  Anyuta Blagovo, also in her hat and wearing a dark veil, was standing behind the scenes at the door.  She was the daughter of the Assistant President of the Court, who had held that office in our town almost ever since the establishment of the circuit court.  Since she was tall and had a good figure, her assistance was considered indispensable for tableaux vivants, and when she represented a fairy or something like Glory her face burned with shame; but she took no part in dramatic performances, and came to the rehearsals only for a moment on some special errand, and did not go into the hall.  Now, too, it was evident that she had only looked in for a minute.