The old lady
was so much taken up with the idea of Kapiton's wedding, that even in
the night she talked of nothing else to one of her companions, who was
kept in her house solely to entertain her in case of sleeplessness, and,
like a night cabman, slept in the day. When Gavrila came to her after
morning tea with his report, her first question was: "And how about our
wedding--is it getting on all right?" He replied, of course, that it was
getting on first-rate, and that Kapiton would appear before her to pay
his reverence to her that day. The old lady was not quite well; she did
not give much time to business. The steward went back to his own room,
and called a council. The matter certainly called for serious
consideration. Tatiana would make no difficulty, of course; but Kapiton
had declared in the hearing of all that he had but one head to lose, not
two or three. . . Gerasim turned rapid sullen looks on every one, would
not budge from the steps of the maids' quarters, and seemed to guess
that some mischief was being hatched against him. They met together.
Among them was an old sideboard waiter, nicknamed Uncle Tail, to whom
every one looked respectfully for counsel, though all they got out of
him was, "Here's a pretty pass! to be sure, to be sure, to be sure!" As
a preliminary measure of security, to provide against contingencies,
they locked Kapiton up in the lumber-room where the filter was kept;
then considered the question with the gravest deliberation.
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