In the sultry heat of the midsummer morning, they strode from Sofia to Dragalevtsi. Being true Bulgarians, they were late. They now walked slowly, at a steady pace; the sun and the even rhythm of the Ganges put everyone in a sleepy somnambulant state.

Mr. Panov walked far ahead of the others, thinking about what percentage his latest speculations would earn him. His daughter Mara followed him, a slender eighteen-year-old with beautiful, fiery Bulgarian eyes. From time to time, she chatted with her brother about the next excursion to Boyana and the guests she would invite. Little Ivan danced from one person to the other, glad that he was allowed to miss school for once. From his philosophical standpoint there were only two categories of people: Those who had to go to school, including all the unhappy little boys and girls such as his own poor pitiful self. And then, those who did not have to go to school, including his parents, his sister, his brother, the Count, the lamplighter who lit the lantern in front of the house every evening, and the laundress. All of these formed one category for him: the lucky ones.

Mama Panov, a big forty-something year old woman, fat and horribly laced, gasped behind them. Her waist separated her immense bosom above from her corpulent belly below. Her body, unaccustomed to the corset, suffered under the pressure of the traditional device. Sweat pearled on her fat neck, which sat in a straight line under her face. She had an unpleasant look around her mouth. They definitely walked too fast for her ample corporality; but nobody paid any attention. She was separated from the circle of “usefulness” for good; her children were born; nothing more was demanded of her, not even that she maintained her own painful flesh. So, her duty was done, and now she was an unusable, old piece of furniture for which no one had any consideration. And that’s the way it should be: everyone should be valued according to their capabilities.

Lora, little Ivan’s governess, walked at the very end, with the necessary, submissive distance, as if paid feet could not take as big steps as unpaid ones. She was the only one in the entire group whose mind was really busy.