Chapter 25 - Page 2

among the contending factions until it serves
only to remind one of the years during which it successfully
deceived one's perceptions. Sometimes to strike one's head
violently against a ceiling hurts one less than just to graze
some spot which has been hurt and bruised before: and in almost
every family there exists some such raw and tender spot. In the
Nechludoff family that spot was Dimitri's extraordinary affection
for Lubov Sergievna, which aroused in the mother and sister, if
not a jealous feeling, at all events a sense of hurt family
pride. This was the grave significance which underlay, for all
those present, the seeming dispute about Ivan Yakovlevitch and
superstition.

"In anything that other people deride and despise you invariably
profess to see something extraordinarily good!" Varenika was
saying in her clear voice, as she articulated each syllable with
careful precision.

"Indeed?" retorted Dimitri with an impatient toss of his head.
"Now, in the first place, only a most unthinking person could
ever speak of DESPISING such a remarkable man as Ivan
Yakovlevitch, while, in the second place, it is YOU who
invariably profess to see nothing good in what confronts you."

Meanwhile Sophia Ivanovna kept looking anxiously at us as she
turned first to her nephew, and then to her niece, and then to
myself. Twice she opened her mouth as though to say what was in
her mind and drew a deep sigh.

"Varia, PLEASE go on reading," she said at length, at the same
time handing her niece the book, and patting her hand kindly. "I
wish to know whether he ever found HER again " (as a matter of
fact, the novel in question contained not a word about any one
finding any one else). "And, Mitia dear," she added to her
nephew, despite the glum looks which he was throwing at her for
having interrupted the logical thread of his deductions, "you had
better let me poultice your cheek, or your teeth will begin to
ache again."

After that the reading was resumed. Yet the quarrel had in no way
dispelled the calm atmosphere of family and intellectual harmony
which enveloped this circle of ladies.

Clearly deriving its inspiration and character from the Princess
Maria Ivanovna, it was a circle which, for me, had a wholly novel
and attractive character of logicalness mingled with simplicity
and refinement. That character I could discern in the daintiness,
good taste, and solidity of everything about me, whether the
handbell, the binding of the book, the settee, or the table.
Likewise, I divined it in the upright, well-corseted pose of the
Princess, in her pendant curls of grey hair, in the manner in
which she had, at