"I know how you do everything," said Dolly; "you give Matve an order which it is impossible to carry out, and then you go away, and he gets everything into a tangle."
And her customary mocking smile wrinkled the corners of Dolly's lips as she said that.
"Complete, complete reconciliation, complete," thought Anna. "Thank God!" and, rejoicing that she had been the cause of it, she went to Dolly and kissed her.
"Not by any means. Why have you such scorn for Matve and me?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch to his wife, with an almost imperceptible smile.
Throughout the evening Dolly, as usual, was lightly ironical toward her husband, and Stepan Arkadyevitch was happy and gay, but within bounds, and as if he wanted to make it evident that though he had obtained pardon he had not forgotten his offense.
About half-past nine a particularly animated and pleasant confidential conversation, which was going on at the tea-table, was interrupted by an incident apparently of the slightest importance, but this simple incident seemed to each member of the family to be very strange.
They were talking about one of their Petersburg acquaintances when Anna suddenly arose:—
"I have her picture in my album," she said; "and at the same time I will show you my little Serozha," she added, with a smile of maternal pride.
It was usually about ten o'clock when she bade her son good-night. Often she herself put him to bed before she went out to parties, and now she felt a sensation of sadness to be so far from him. No matter what people were speaking about, her thoughts reverted always to her little curly-haired Serozha, and the desire seized her to go and look at his picture, and to talk about him. Using this first pretext, she, with her light, decided step, started to fetch her album. The stairs to her room started from the landing-place in the large staircase, which led from the heated hall. Just as she was leaving the drawing-room the front door-bell rang.
