On the last page of the album, instead of verses, there were various recipes for remedies against stomach troubles, spasms, and worms.The Subotchevs dined exactly at twelve o'clock and only ate old-fashioned dishes: curd fritters, pickled cabbage, soups, fruit jellies, minced chicken with saffron, stews, custards, and honey.They took an after-dinner nap for an hour, not longer, and on waking up would sit opposite one another again, drinking bilberry wine or an effervescent drink called "forty-minds," which nearly always squirted out of the bottle, affording them great amusement, much to the disgust of Kalliopitch, who had to wipe up the mess afterwards.He grumbled at the cook and housekeeper as if they had invented this dreadful drink on purpose."What pleasure does it give one?" he asked; "it only spoils the furniture." Then the old people again read something, or got the dwarf Pufka to entertain them, or sang old-fashioned duets.Their voices were exactly alike, rather high-pitched, not very strong or steady, and somewhat husky, especially after their nap, but not without a certain amount of charm.Or, if need be, they played at cards, always the same old games-- cribbage, ecarte, or double-dummy whist.Then the samovar made its appearance.The only concession they made to the spirit of the age was to drink tea in the evening, though they always considered it an indulgence, and were convinced that the nation was deteriorating, owing to the use of this "Chinese herb." On the whole, they refrained from criticising modern times or from exulting their own.They had lived like this all their lives, but that others might live in a different and even better way they were quite willing to admit, so long as they were not compelled to conform to it.At seven o'clock Kalliopitch produced the inevitable supper of cold hash, and at nine the high striped feather-bed received their rotund little bodies in its soft embrace, and a calm, untroubled sleep soon descended upon their eyelids.Everything in the little house became hushed; the little lamp before the icon glowed and glimmered, the funny innocent little pair slept the sound sleep of the just, amidst the fragrant scent of musk and the chirping of the cricket.
To these two odd little people, or poll-parrots as Paklin called them, who were taking care of his sister, he now conducted his friends.
Paklin's sister was a clever girl with a fairly attractive face.
She had wonderfully beautiful eyes, but her unfortunate deformity had completely broken her spirit, deprived her of self-confidence, joyousness, made her mistrustful and even spiteful.
She had been given the unfortunate name of Snandulia, and to Paklin's request that she should be re-christened Sophia, she replied that it was just as it should be; a hunchback ought to be called Snandulia; so she stuck to her strange name.She was an excellent musician and played the piano very well."Thanks to my long fingers," she would say, not without a touch of bitterness.
"Hunchbacks always have fingers like that."The visitors came upon Fomishka and Fimishka at the very minute when they had awakened from their afternoon nap and were drinking bilberry wine.
"We are going into the eighteenth century!" Paklin exclaimed as they crossed the threshold of the Subotchevs' house.
And really they were confronted by the eighteenth century in the very hall, with its low bluish screens, ornamented with black silhouettes cut out of paper, of powdered ladies and gentlemen.
Silhouettes, first introduced by Lavater, were much in vogue in the eighties of last century.
The sudden appearance of such a large number of guests--four all at once--produced quite a sensation in the usually quiet house.Ahurried sound of feet, both shod and unshod, was heard, several women thrust their heads through the door and instantly drew them back again, someone was pushed, another groaned, a third giggled, someone whispered excitedly, "Be quiet, do!"At last Kalliopitch made his appearance in his old coat, and opening the drawing-room door announced in a loud voice:
"Sila Samsonitch with some other gentlemen, sir!"The Subotchevs were less disturbed than their servants, although the eruption of four full-sized men into their drawing-room, spacious though it was, did in fact surprise them somewhat.But Paklin soon reassured them, introducing Nejdanov, Solomin, and Markelov in turn, as good quiet people, not "governmental."Fomishka and Fimishka had a horror of governmental, that is to say, official people.
Snandulia, who appeared at her brother's request, was far more disturbed and agitated than the old couple.
They asked, both together and in exactly the same words, if their guests would be pleased to partake of some tea, chocolate, or an effervescent drink with jam, but learning that they did not require anything, having just lunched with the merchant Golushkin and that they were returning there to dinner, they ceased pressing them, and, folding their arms in exactly the same manner across their stomachs, they entered into conversation.It was a little slow at first, but soon grew livelier.
Paklin amused them very much by relating the well known Gogol anecdote about a superintendent of police, who managed to push his way into a church already so packed with people that a pin could scarcely drop, and about a pie which turned out to be no other than this same superintendent himself.The old people laughed till the tears rolled down their cheeks.They had exactly the same shrill laugh and both went red in the face from the effort.Paklin noticed that people of the Subotchev type usually went into fits of laughter over quotations from Gogol, but as his object at the present moment was not so much in amusing them as in showing them off to his friends, he changed his tactics and soon managed to put them in an excellent humour.
