gown," said Oblomov, nestling lovingly into the ample folds of the garment. "Where are you from?"
"From the tailor's. Do you think this frock-coat a nice one?" And he turned himself round and round for Oblomov's inspection.
"Splendid! Made with excellent taste!" was the verdict. "Only why is it so broad behind?"
"'The better to ride in it. It is a riding-coat. I ordered it for to-day for the reason that this is the first of May and I am to go to the Ekaterinhov[1] with Gorunov. He has just got his promotion, and we intend to cut a dash on the strength of it. He has a roan horse—all the horses in his regiment are roans and I a black. How are you going—in a carriage or on foot?"
"By neither method," replied Oblomov.
"What? To-day is the first of May, and you are not going to the Ekaterinhov? Why, every one will be there!"
"Not quite every one," Oblomov lazily remarked.
"You must go, though. Sophia Nikolaevna and Lydia will be occupying two of the seats in our carriage, but the seat facing
- ↑ A fashionable park in Petrograd.
