"No," replied his son-in-law, frowning. "I am a man of the old school, and our services nowadays are of no use, although, perhaps, an orthodox Russian nobleman is worth more than these modern upstarts, bakers and heathens. But this is a different matter altogether."
"Then what is it, brother?" said Tatiana Afanassievna. "Why was he talking with you for such a long time? Can it be that you are threatened with some misfortune? The Lord save and defend us!"
"No misfortune, certainly, but I confess that it is a matter for reflection."
"Then what is it, brother? What is the matter about?"
"It is about Natasha: the Czar came to ask for her hand."
"God be thanked!" said Tatiana Afanassievna, crossing herself. "The maiden is of a marriageable age, and as the matchmaker is, so must the bridegroom be. God give them love and counsel, the honour is great. For whom does the Czar ask her hand?"
"H'm!" exclaimed Gavril Afanassievitch; "for whom? That's just it — for whom!"
"Who is it, then?" repeated Prince Likoff, already beginning to doze off to sleep.
"Guess," said Gavril Afanassievitch.
"My dear brother," replied the old lady: "how can we guess? There are a great number of marriageable men at Court, each of whom would be glad to take your Natasha for his wife. Is it Dolgorouky?" "No, it is not Dolgorouky." "God be with him: he is too overbearing. Schein? Troekouroff?" "No, neither the one nor the other." "I do not care for them either; they are flighty, and too much imbued with the German spirit. Well, is it Miloslavsky?"
