He had a fine house near the Arbat, and he was living (although she did
not of course know anything about that at the time) with one of his
gaudiest mistresses. Her mother and father being dead she had no
protection. She was defenceless. I don't think that he in any way
perverted her innocence. I except that he was especially careful to
shield her from his own manner of life (he had always his own queer
tradition of honour which he effected indeed to despise), but she felt
more than she perceived. The house was garish, over-scented and
over-lighted. There were many gilt chairs and large pictures of naked
women and numbers of coloured cushions. She was desperately lonely. She
hated the woman of the house, who tried, I have no doubt, to be kind to
her, and after the first week she was left to herself.
One night, long after she had gone to bed there was a row downstairs,
one of the scenes common enough between Semyonov and his women.
Terrified, she went to the head of the stairs and heard the smash of
falling glass and her uncle's voice raised in a scream of rage and
vituperation. A great naked woman in a gold frame swung and leered at
her in the lighted passage.
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