“Qu’elles s’amusent et que le bon Dieu les benisse.  Ah, Nekhludoff, how do you do?  You haven’t shown yourself for a long time,” he greeted Nekhludoff.  “Allez presenter vos devoirs a madame.  The Korchagins are here, too.  Toutes les jolies femmes de la ville,” he said, holding out and somewhat raising his military shoulders for his overcoat, which was being placed on him by his own magnificent lackey in gold-braided uniform.  “Au revoir, mon cher.”  Then he shook Maslenikoff’s hand.

“Well, now let us go upstairs.  How glad I am,” Maslenikoff began excitedly, seizing Nekhludoff by the arm, and, notwithstanding his corpulence, nimbly leading him up the stairs.  Maslenikoff was in a particularly happy mood, which Nekhludoff could not help ascribing to the attention shown him by the important person.  Every attention shown him by an important person put him into such an ecstasy as may be observed in a fawning little dog when its master pats it, strokes it, and scratches under its ears.  It wags its tail, shrinks, wriggles, and, straightening its ears, madly runs in a circle.  Maslenikoff was ready to do the same thing.  He did not notice the grave expression on Nekhludoff’s face, nor hear what he was saying, but irresistibly dragged him into the reception-room.  Nekhludoff involuntarily followed.

“Business afterward.  I will do anything you wish,” said Maslenikoff, leading him through the parlor.  “Announce Prince Nekhludoff to Her Excellency,” he said on the way to a lackey.  The lackey, in an ambling gait, ran ahead of them.  “Vous n’avez qu’a ordonner.  But you must see my wife without fail.  She would not forgive my failure to present you last time you were here.”

The lackey had already announced him when they entered, and Anna Ignatievna, the vice-governess—­Mrs. General, as she called herself—­sat on a couch surrounded by ladies.  As Nekhludoff approached she was already leaning forward with a radiant smile on her face.  At the other end of the reception-room women sat around a table, while men in military uniforms and civil attire stood over them.  An incessant cackle came from that direction.

“Enfin!  Why do you estrange yourself?  Have we offended you in any way?”

With these words, presupposing an intimacy between her and Nekhludoff, which never existed, Anna Ignatievna greeted him.

“Are you acquainted?  Madam Beliavskaia—­Michael Ivanovich Chernoff.  Take a seat here.”

“Missy, venez donc a notre table.  On vous opportera votre the.  And you,” she turned to the officer who was conversing with Missy, evidently forgetting his name, “come here, please.  Will you have some tea, Prince?”

“No, no; I will never agree with you.  She simply did not love him,” said a woman’s voice.

“But she loved pie.”

“Eternally those stupid jests,” laughingly interfered another lady in a high hat and dazzling with gold and diamonds.

“C’est excellent, these waffles, and so light!  Let us have some more.”