Page 220 - the-idiot

great curiosity—while all eyes turned on Nastasia Phili-
povna, as though anticipating that his revelation must be
connected somehow with her. Nastasia, during the whole
of his story, pulled at the lace trimming of her sleeve, and
never once glanced at the speaker. Totski was a handsome
man, rather stout, with a very polite and dignified manner.
He was always well dressed, and his linen was exquisite. He
had plump white hands, and wore a magnificent diamond
ring on one finger.
‘What simplifies the duty before me considerably, in my
opinion,’ he began, ‘is that I am bound to recall and relate
the very worst action of my life. In such circumstances
there can, of course, be no doubt. One’s conscience very
soon informs one what is the proper narrative to tell. I ad-
mit, that among the many silly and thoughtless actions of
my life, the memory of one comes prominently forward and
reminds me that it lay long like a stone on my heart. Some
twenty years since, I paid a visit to Platon Ordintzeff at his
country-house. He had just been elected marshal of the no-
bility, and had come there with his young wife for the winter
holidays. Anfisa Alexeyevna’s birthday came off just then,
too, and there were two balls arranged. At that time Du-
mas-fils’ beautiful work, La Dame aux Camelias—a novel
which I consider imperishable—had just come into fashion.
In the provinces all the ladies were in raptures over it, those
who had read it, at least. Camellias were all the fashion. Ev-
eryone inquired for them, everybody wanted them; and a
grand lot of camellias are to be got in a country town—as
you all know—and two balls to provide for!

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