that she was to be married and the preparations for the wedding.  She still remembers the delight which the purchase of her trousseau afforded her, and keeps in her memory a full catalogue of the articles bought.  The first years of her married life were not very happy, for she was treated by her mother-in-law as a naughty child who required to be frequently snubbed and lectured; but she bore the discipline with exemplary patience, and in due time became her own mistress and autocratic ruler in all domestic affairs.  From that time she has lived an active, uneventful life.  Between her and her husband there is as much mutual attachment as can reasonably be expected in phlegmatic natures after half a century of matrimony.  She has always devoted her energies to satisfying his simple material wants—­of intellectual wants he has none—­and securing his comfort in every possible way.  Under this fostering care he “effeminated himself” (obabilsya), as he is wont to say.  His love of shooting died out, he cared less and less to visit his neighbours, and each successive year he spent more and more time in his comfortable arm-chair.

The daily life of this worthy couple is singularly regular and monotonous, varying only with the changing seasons.  In summer Ivan Ivan’itch gets up about seven o’clock, and puts on, with the assistance of his valet de chambre, a simple costume, consisting chiefly of a faded, plentifully stained dressing-gown.  Having nothing particular to do, he sits down at the open window and looks into the yard.  As the servants pass he stops and questions them, and then gives them orders, or scolds them, as circumstances demand.  Towards nine o’clock tea is announced, and he goes into the dining-room—­a long, narrow apartment with bare wooden floor and no furniture but a table and chairs, all in a more or less rickety condition.  Here he finds his wife with the tea-urn before her.  In a few minutes the grandchildren come in, kiss their grandpapa’s hand, and take their places round the table.  As this morning meal consists merely of bread and tea, it does not last long; and all disperse to their several occupations.  The head of the house begins the labours of the day by resuming his seat at the open window.  When he has smoked some cigarettes and indulged in a proportionate amount of silent contemplation, he goes out with the intention of visiting the stables and farmyard, but generally before he has crossed the court he finds the heat unbearable, and returns to his former position by the open window.  Here he sits tranquilly till the sun has so far moved round that the verandah at the back of the house is completely in the shade, when he has his arm-chair removed thither, and sits there till dinner-time.

Maria Petrovna spends her morning in a more active way.  As soon as the breakfast table has been cleared she goes to the larder, takes stock of the provisions, arranges the menu du jour, and gives to the cook the necessary materials, with detailed instructions as to how they are to be prepared.  The rest of the morning she devotes to her other household duties.