Pavlovna they show immense respect; she even allows them to kiss her hand, not feeling that it is any degradation to herself, and she behaves towards them as though she were fifteen years their senior; that is, she behaves herself in such a way when she does not get into a gale; but, to tell the truth, she very often gets into a gale. She likes to run, to frolic with them, and they are all delighted, and there is a great deal of dancing and waltzing, a great deal of simple running about, a great deal of playing on the piano, a great deal of talking and laughter, and probably more singing than anything else. But the running, laughter, and everything else does not in the least prevent the young people from absolutely and entirely and boundlessly worshipping Viéra Pavlovna, from respecting her—as may God grant respect for an older sister!—as a mother, not even a good mother, is not always respected. However, singing is not frolicking, though sometimes one cannot get along without the nonsense. But for the most part, Viéra Pavlovna slugs seriously; and sometimes, when she does not sing, she plays seriously, and her hearers then sit in dumb silence. Not infrequently they have guests who are older, or who are of the same age as the Lopukhófs; for the most part, Lopukhóf's former classmates, or friends of his former comrades, two or three young professors, almost all bachelors; almost the only married people are the Mertsálofs. The Lopukhófs do not very often go out, and they go scarcely anywhere else than to the Mertsálofs', or to Mrs. Mertsálova's parents'; these kind and simple-hearted people have a good many sons, who occupy important places in all possible official departments; and therefore at the house of the old people, who live in some comfort, Viéra Pavlovna sees a varied and different calibered society.
Free, ample, active life, not without its luxuries; lying at ease in her soft, warm bed; cream, or baked dishes and cream; it is a life that greatly delights Viéra Pavlovna.
Can there be any better life in the world? To Viéra Pavlovna it seems impossible.
Well (da), in early youth nothing better can be imagined.
But years pass on; and with the years, things improve, if life goes on as it should, as it goes on with a few now, as it will pass with a good many in the future.
