Fyodor Dostoevsky

great importance, but also, and still more, of great wealth; and

without delay they entered her in the hotel register as "Madame

la Generale, Princesse de Tarassevitcheva," although she had

never been a princess in her life. Her retinue, her reserved

compartment in the train, her pile of unnecessary trunks,

portmanteaux, and strong-boxes, all helped to increase her

prestige; while her wheeled chair, her sharp tone and voice, her

eccentric questions (put with an air of the most overbearing and

unbridled imperiousness), her whole figure--upright, rugged, and

commanding as it was--completed the general awe in which she was

held. As she inspected her new abode she ordered her chair to be

stopped at intervals in order that, with finger extended towards

some article of furniture, she might ply the respectfully

smiling, yet secretly apprehensive, landlord with unexpected

questions. She addressed them to him in French, although her

pronunciation of the language was so bad that sometimes I had to

translate them. For the most part, the landlord's answers were

unsatisfactory, and failed to please her; nor were the questions

themselves of a practical nature, but related, generally, to God

knows what.

For instance, on one occasion she halted before a picture which,

a poor copy of a well-known original, had a mythological subject.

"Of whom is this a portrait?" she inquired.

The landlord explained that it was probably that of a countess.

"But how know you that?" the old lady retorted.

"You live here, yet you cannot say for certain! And why is the

picture there at all? And why do its eyes look so crooked?"

To all these questions the landlord could return no satisfactory

reply, despite his floundering endeavours.

"The blockhead!" exclaimed the Grandmother in Russian.

Then she proceeded on her way--only to repeat the same story in

front of a Saxon statuette which she had sighted from afar, and

had commanded, for some reason or another, to be brought to her.

Finally, she inquired of the landlord what was the value of the

carpet in her bedroom, as well as where the said carpet had been

manufactured; but, the landlord could do no more than promise to

make inquiries.

"What donkeys these people are!" she commented. Next, she

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