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By Root 2209 0

week before; he did not keep looking incessantly at the clock and did not frown because the hand did not move forward fast enough. Zakhar and Anisya thought that he would be dining out as usual and did not ask him what he would like for dinner. He scolded them sharply, declaring that he did not dine at the Ilyinskys’ every Wednesday, that it was ‘slander’, that he sometimes dined at Ivan Gerasimovich’s, and that in future he would always have his dinners at home, except on Sundays, and not every Sunday, either. Anisya immediately rushed off to the market to buy giblets for Oblomov’s favourite soup. The landlady’s children came in to see him: he corrected Vanya’s sums and found two mistakes. He ruled Masha’s copybook and wrote large As, then he listened to the singing of the canaries and looked through the half-open door at the landlady’s rapidly moving elbows. Soon after one o’clock the landlady asked him from behind the door if he would like something to eat: she had been baking cheese-cakes. Cheese-cakes and a glass of currant vodka were placed before him. Oblomov’s agitation somewhat subsided, and he fell into a state of dull torpor in which he remained till dinner. After dinner, when lying down on the sofa he began nodding, overcome by drowsiness, the door leading into the landlady’s rooms opened and Agafya Matveyevna appeared, with two pyramids of socks in each hand. She put them down on two chairs, and Oblomov jumped up and offered her the third one, but she did not sit down; it was not her habit: she was always on her feet, always busy and bustling about.

‘I’ve been sorting out your socks to-day,’ she said. ‘Fifty-five pairs, and almost all need darning.’

‘How kind you are!’ Oblomov said, walking up to her and taking hold of her elbows playfully.

She smiled. ‘Why should you trouble?’ he said. ‘It really makes me feel ashamed.’

‘It’s nothing,’ she replied. ‘It’s my job to look after these things. You’ve got no one to sort them out, and I like doing it. Twenty pairs are no good at all: it’s not worth while darning them.’

‘Please don’t trouble. Throw them all away. Why waste your time with this rubbish? I can buy new ones….’

‘Why throw them away? These can all be mended,’ and she began quickly to count the socks that could still be mended.

‘But sit down, please,’ he offered her a chair again. ‘Why do you stand?’

‘No, thank you very much, I really have no time,’ she said, refusing the chair again. ‘It’s my washing day, and I have to get the clothes ready.’

‘You’re a real wonder, and not a housekeeper!’ he said, fixing his gaze on her neck and bosom.

She smiled.

‘So what shall I do?’ she asked. ‘Darn the socks or not? I’ll order some wool. An old woman brings it to us from the country. It’s not worth while buying it here: it’s such poor stuff.’

‘Yes, do by all means, since you are so kind,’ said Oblomov. ‘Only I really am ashamed to be giving you so much trouble.’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve nothing else to do, have I? These I will re-foot myself, and those I’ll give to Granny. My sister-in-law is coming to stay with us to-morrow, we shan’t have anything to do in the evenings, and we’ll mend them. My Masha is already learning to knit, only she keeps dropping the stitches: the needles are too big for her little hands.’

‘Is Masha already beginning to knit?’ asked Oblomov.

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ said Oblomov. He looked at her with the same pleasure with which he had looked at her hot cheese-cakes that morning. ‘I am very, very grateful to you and I will not remain in your debt, especially not in Masha’s. I’ll buy her silk frocks and dress her up like a little doll.’

‘Why, you mustn’t think of it! You’ve nothing to be grateful to me for. What does she want silk dresses for? She never has enough cotton ones: she wears things out so quickly, especially her shoes: we can’t buy them fast enough in the market.’

She took up the socks and was about to leave the room.

‘Why are you in such a hurry?’ he said. ‘Do sit down, I’m not busy.’

‘Some other