But they had still to call at the Taurida Gardens.
Peronskaya was quite ready.
In spite of her age and plainness she had gone through the same process as the Rostovs, but with less flurry--for to her it was a matter of routine.
Her ugly old body was washed, perfumed, and powdered in just the same way.
She had washed behind her ears just as carefully, and when she entered her drawing room in her yellow dress, wearing her badge as maid of honor, her old lady's maid was as full of rapturous admiration as the Rostovs' servants had been.