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Chapter 20.
Stepan Arkadyevitch, as usual, did not waste his time in Peters-
burg. In Petersburg, besides business, his sister’s divorce, and his cov-
eted appointment, he wanted, as he always did, to freshen himself up,
as he said, after the mustiness of Moscow.
In spite of its cafes chantants and its omnibuses, Moscow was yet
a stagnant bog. Stepan Arkadyevitch always felt it. After living for
some time in Moscow, especially in close relations with his family, he
was conscious of a depression of spirits. After being a long time in
Moscow without a change, he reached a point when he positively
began to be worrying himself over his wife’s ill-humor and reproaches,
over his children’s health and education, and the petty details of his
official work; even the fact of being in debt worried him. But he had
only to go and stay a little while in Petersburg, in the circle there in
which he moved, where people lived—really lived—instead of veg-
etating as in Moscow, and all such ideas vanished and melted away at
once, like wax before the fire. His wife?... Only that day he had been
talking to Prince Tchetchensky. Prince Tchetchensky had a wife and
family, grown-up pages in the corps,...and he had another illegitimate
family of children also. Though the first family was very nice too,
Prince Tchetchensky felt happier in his second family; and he used to
take his eldest son with him to his second family, and told Stepan
Arkadyevitch that he thought it good for his son, enlarging his ideas.
What would have been said to that in Moscow?
His children? In Petersburg children did not prevent their parents
from enjoying life. The children were brought up in schools, and there
was no trace of the wild idea that prevailed in Moscow, in Lvov’s
household, for instance, that all the luxuries of life were for the chil-
dren, while the parents have nothing but work and anxiety. Here
people understood that a man is in duty bound to live for himself, as
every man of culture should live.
His official duties? Official work here was not the stiff, hopeless
drudgery that it was in Moscow. Here there was some interest in
official life. A chance meeting, a service rendered, a happy phrase, a
knack of facetious mimicry, and a man’s career might be made in a trice.
So it had been with Bryantsev, whom Stepan Arkadyevitch had met
the previous day, and who was one of the highest functionaries in
government now. There was some interest in official work like that.
The Petersburg attitude on pecuniary matters had an especially
soothing effect on Stepan Arkadyevitch. Bartnyansky, who must spend
at least fifty thousand to judge by the style he lived in, had made an
interesting comment the day before on that subject.
As they were talking before dinner, Stepan Arkadyevitch said to
Bartnyansky:
“You’re friendly, I fancy, with Mordvinsky; you might do me a favor:
say a word to him, please, for me. There’s an appointment I should like
to get—secretary of the agency...”
“Oh, I shan’t remember all that, if you tell it to me.... But what
possesses you to have to do with railways and Jews?... Take it as you
will, it’s a low business.”
Stepan Arkadyevitch did not say to Bartnyansky that it was a