Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume X).djvu/75

Rh was in the habit of lying down directly after dinner — at two o'clock — and resting till evening tea at seven, Aratov's talk with Clara's sister was not exactly a conversation; she did almost all the talking, at first with hesitation, with embarrassment, then with a warmth that refused to be stifled. It was obvious that she had adored her sister. The confidence Aratov had inspired in her grew and strengthened; she was no longer stiff; twice she even dropped a few silent tears before him. He seemed to her to be worthy to hear an unreserved account of all she knew and felt. . . in her own secluded life nothing of this sort had ever happened before! . . . As for him. . . he drank in every word she uttered. This was what he learned. . . much of it of course, half-said. . . much he filled in for himself.

In her early years, Clara had undoubtedly been a disagreeable child; and even as a girl, she had not been much gentler; self-willed, hot-tempered, sensitive, she had never got on with her father, whom she despised for his drunkenness and incapacity. He felt this and never forgave her for it. A gift for music showed itself early in her; her father gave it no encouragement, acknowledging no art but painting, in which he himself was so conspicuously