In one of the two little houses dwelt Mikhaíl Nikoláevitch himself; in the other lived his mother, a decrepit old woman of seventy years. When he drove on to the dam, Vladímir Sergyéitch did not know to which house to betake himself. He glanced about him: a small urchin of the house-serfs was fishing, as he stood barefooted on a half-rotten tree-stump. Vladímir Sergyéitch hailed him.
“But to whom are you going--to the old lady or to the young master?”--replied the urchin, without taking his eyes from his float.
“What lady?”--replied Vladímir Sergyéitch.--“I want to find Mikhaílo Nikoláitch.”
“Ah! the young master? Well, then, turn to the right.”
And the lad gave his line a jerk, and drew from the motionless water a small, silvery carp. Vladímir Sergyéitch drove to the right.
Mikhaíl Nikoláitch was playing at draughts with The Folding Soul when the arrival of Vladímir Sergyéitch was announced to him. He was delighted, sprang from his arm-chair, ran out into the anteroom and there kissed the visitor three times.
“You find me with my invariable friend, Vladímir Sergyéitch,”--began the loquacious little old man:--“with Iván Ílitch, who, I will remark in passing, is completely enchanted with your affability.” (Iván Ílitch darted a silent glance at the corner.) “He was so kind as to remain to play draughts with me, while all my household went for a stroll in the park; but I will send for them at once....”
“But why disturb them?”--Vladímir Sergyéitch tried to expostulate....
“Not the least inconvenience, I assure you. Hey, there, Vánka, run for the young ladies as fast as thou canst ... tell them that a guest has favoured us with a visit. And how does this locality please you? It’s not bad, is it? Kaburdín has composed some verses about it. ‘Ipátovka, refuge lovely’--that’s the way they begin,--and the rest of it is just as good, only I don’t remember all of it. The park is large, that’s the trouble; beyond my means. And these two houses, which are so much alike, as you have, perhaps, deigned to observe, were erected by two brothers--my father Nikolái, and my uncle Sergyéi; they also laid out the park; they were exemplary friends ... Damon and ... there now! I’ve forgotten the other man’s name....”