Chapter XXIII
No one else was expected. The dining-room table was being set for supper. Suddenly there was a loud, violent bell-ring. The housemaid ran quickly to answer it. Some one in the drawing-room remarked in astonishment: "A rather late visitor." Every one suddenly felt depressed for some reason. There was an air of ominous expectancy. Were robbers about to break in? Was it a telegram containing an unpleasant announcement? Or would some one come in panting and exhausted and divulge a piece of terrible news? But the words they addressed to each other were of quite a different nature. "But who can it be at such a late hour?" said one woman to another. "Who else can it be but Piotr Ivanitch!" "That's so; he likes coming late." "Do you remember--once at the Taranovs?" Piotr Ivanitch, approachi
- Writer
