better than I can.... Annotchka! called Madame Milovidov, 'Annotchka, come
here! Here is a worthy gentleman from Moscow wants to have a talk about
Katia!'

There was a sound of something moving in the next room; but no one
appeared. 'Annotchka!' the widow called again, 'Anna Semyonovna! come here,
I tell you!'

The door softly opened, and in the doorway appeared a girl no longer very
young, looking ill--and plain--but with very soft and mournful eyes. Aratov
got up from his seat to meet her, and introduced himself, mentioning his
friend Kupfer. 'Ah! Fyodor Fedoritch?' the girl articulated softly, and
softly she sank into a chair.

'Now, then, you must talk to the gentleman,' said Madam Milovidov, getting
up heavily: 'he's taken trouble enough, he's come all the way from Moscow
on purpose--he wants to collect information about Katia. And will you, my
good sir,' she added, addressing Aratov--'excuse me ... I'm going to look
after my housekeeping. You can get a very good account of everything from
Annotchka; she will tell you about the theatre ... and all the rest of it.
She is a clever girl, well educated: speaks French, and reads books, as
well as her sister did. One may say indeed she gave her her education ...
she was older--and so she looked after it.'

Madame Milovidov withdrew. On being left alone with Anna Semyonovna, Aratov
repeated his speech to her; but realising at the first glance that he had
to do with a really cultivated girl, not a typical tradesman's daughter, he
went a little more into particulars and made use of different expressions;
but towards the end he grew agitated, flushed and felt that his heart was
throbbing. Anna listened to him in silence, her hands folded on her lap;