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With a single spark of
genius, and a little more culture, he might have become a passable
author or artist; but he was doomed to be one of those deaf and
dumb natures that see the movements of the lips of others, yet have
no conception of sound. No wonder his savage old father looked
upon him with contempt, for even his vices were without strength or
character.
The dark winter days passed by, one by one, and the first week of
Lent had already arrived to subdue the glittering festivities of
the court, when the only genuine adventure of the season happened
to the young Prince. For adventures, in the conventional sense of
the word, he was not distinguished; whatever came to him must come
by its own force, or the force of destiny.
One raw, gloomy evening, as dusk was setting in, he saw a female
figure in a droschky, which was about turning from the great
Morskoi into the Gorokhovaya (Pea) Street. He noticed, listlessly,
that the lady was dressed in black, closely veiled, and appeared to
be urging the istvostchik (driver) to make better speed.


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