The dinner at the Korchagin’s came to his mind, and he looked at his watch.  It was not too late to reach there for dinner.  A tram-car passed by.  He ran after it, and boarded it at a bound.  On the square he jumped off, took one of the best cabs, and ten minutes later he alighted in front of Korchagin’s large dwelling.

CHAPTER XXVI.

“Walk in, Your Excellency, you are expected,” said the fat porter, pushing open the swinging, oaken door of the entrance.  “They are dining, but I was told to admit you.”

The porter walked to the stairway and rang the bell.

“Are there any guests?” Nekhludoff asked, while taking off his coat.

“Mr. Kolosoff, also Michael Sergeievich, besides the family,” answered the porter.

A fine-looking lackey in dress coat and white gloves looked down from the top of the stairs.

“Please to walk in, Your Excellency,” he said.

Nekhludoff mounted the stairs, and through the spacious and magnificent parlor he entered the dining-room.  Around the table were seated the entire family, except Princess Sophia Vasilievna, who never left her own apartments.  At the head of the table sat old Korchagin, on his left the physician; on his right, a visitor, Ivan Ivanovich Kolosoff, an ex-district commander, and now a bank manager, who was a friend of the family, and of liberal tendencies; further to the left was Miss Rader, governess to Missy’s four-year-old sister, with the little girl herself; then to the right, Missy’s only brother, Peter, a high-school pupil, on account of whose forthcoming examinations the entire family remained in the city, and his tutor, also a student; then again to the left, Katherine Alexeievna, a forty-year-old girl Slavophile; opposite to her was Michael Sergeievich, or Misha Telegin, Missy’s cousin, and at the foot of the table, Missy herself, and beside her, on the table, lay an extra cover.

“Ah, very glad you came!  Take a seat!  We are still at the fish,” chewing carefully with his false teeth old Korchagin said, lifting his bloodshot eyes on Nekhludoff.  “Stepan!” he turned with a full mouth to the fat, majestic servant, pointing with his eyes to Nekhludoff’s plate.  Although Nekhludoff had often dined with and knew Korchagin well, this evening his old face, his sensual, smacking lips, the napkin stuck under his vest, the fat neck, and especially the well-fed, military figure made an unpleasant impression on him.

“It is all ready, Your Excellency,” said Stepan, taking a soup ladle from the sideboard and nodding to the fine-looking servant with the side-whiskers, who immediately began to set the table beside Missy.