maid-servants, and other menials of the hotel, headed by the
landlord (that functionary had actually run out to meet a
visitor who arrived with so much stir and din, attended by her
own retinue, and accompanied by so great a pile of trunks and
portmanteaux)--on the topmost tier of the verandah, I say, there
was sitting--THE GRANDMOTHER! Yes, it was she--rich, and imposing,
and seventy-five years of age--Antonida Vassilievna Tarassevitcha,
landowner and grande dame of Moscow--the "La Baboulenka" who had
caused so many telegrams to be sent off and received--who had been
dying, yet not dying--who had, in her own person, descended upon
us even as snow might fall from the clouds! Though unable to walk,
she had arrived borne aloft in an armchair (her mode of conveyance
for the last five years), as brisk, aggressive, self-satisfied,
bolt-upright, loudly imperious, and generally abusive as ever.
In fact, she looked exactly as she had on the only two
occasions when I had seen her since my appointment to the
General's household. Naturally enough, I stood petrified with
astonishment. She had sighted me a hundred paces off! Even while
she was being carried along in her chair she had recognised me,
and called me by name and surname (which, as usual, after
hearing once, she had remembered ever afterwards).
"And this is the woman whom they had thought to see in her
grave after making her will!" I thought to myself. "Yet she
will outlive us, and every one else in the hotel. Good Lord!
what is going to become of us now? What on earth is to happen to
the General? She will turn the place upside down!"
"My good sir," the old woman continued in a stentorian voice,
"what are you standing THERE for, with your eyes almost falling
out of your head? Cannot you come and say how-do-you-do? Are you
too proud to shake hands? Or do you not recognise me? Here,
Potapitch!" she cried to an old servant who, dressed in a frock
coat and white waistcoat, had a bald, red head (he was the
chamberlain who always accompanied her on her journeys). "Just
think! Alexis Ivanovitch does not recognise me! They have buried
me for good and all! Yes, and after sending hosts of telegrams
to know if I were dead or not! Yes, yes, I have heard the whole
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