went up first to one and then to another guest, saying something
agreeable to each. She had a way of gazing into one's face, and
speaking softly as though telling a secret.

"It must be difficult to paint scenery," she said softly, coming
up to me. "I was just talking to Madame Mufke about superstitions
when I saw you come in. My goodness, my whole life I have been
waging war against superstitions! To convince the servants what
nonsense all their terrors are, I always light three candles, and
begin all my important undertakings on the thirteenth of the month."

Dolzhikov's daughter came in, a plump, fair beauty, dressed, as
people said, in everything from Paris. She did not act, but a chair
was set for her on the stage at the rehearsals, and the performances
never began till she had appeared in the front row, dazzling and
astounding everyone with her fine clothes. As a product of the
capital she was allowed to make remarks during the rehearsals; and
she did so with a sweet indulgent smile, and one could see that she
looked upon our performance as a childish amusement. It was said
she had studied singing at the Petersburg Conservatoire, and even
sang for a whole winter in a private opera. I thought her very
charming, and I usually watched her through the rehearsals and
performances without taking my eyes off her.

I had just picked up the manuscript book to begin prompting when
my sister suddenly made her appearance. Without taking off her cloak
or hat, she came up to me and said:

"Come along, I beg you."