one could derive true enjoyment and become cultivated and humane.

"But do you suppose the public understands that?" she used to say.
"What they want is a clown. Yesterday we gave 'Faust Inside Out,'
and almost all the boxes were empty; but if Vanitchka and I had
been producing some vulgar thing, I assure you the theatre would
have been packed. Tomorrow Vanitchka and I are doing 'Orpheus in
Hell.' Do come."

And what Kukin said about the theatre and the actors she repeated.
Like him she despised the public for their ignorance and their
indifference to art; she took part in the rehearsals, she corrected
the actors, she kept an eye on the behaviour of the musicians, and
when there was an unfavourable notice in the local paper, she shed
tears, and then went to the editor's office to set things right.

The actors were fond of her and used to call her "Vanitchka and I,"
and "the darling"; she was sorry for them and used to lend them
small sums of money, and if they deceived her, she used to shed a
few tears in private, but did not complain to her husband.

They got on well in the winter too. They took the theatre in the
town for the whole winter, and let it for short terms to a Little
Russian company, or to a conjurer, or to a local dramatic society.
Olenka grew stouter, and was always beaming with satisfaction, while
Kukin grew thinner and yellower, and continually complained of their
terrible losses, although he had not done badly all the winter. He
used to cough at night, and she used to give him hot raspberry tea
or lime-flower water, to rub him with eau-de-Cologne and to wrap
him in her warm shawls.