VIRGIN SOIL

By Ivan S. Turgenev

Translated from the Russian by R. S. Townsend

INTRODUCTION

TURGENEV was the first writer who was able, having both Slavic anduniversal imagination enough for it, to interpret modern Russia to theouter world, and Virgin Soil was the last word of his greater testament. It was the book in which many English readers were destined to makehis acquaintance about a generation ago, and the effect of it was, likeSwinburne's Songs Before Sunrise, Mazzini's Duties of Man, and othercongenial documents, to break up the insular confines in which they hadbeen reared and to enlarge their new horizon. Afterwards they went on toread Tolstoi, and Turgenev's powerful and antipathetic fellow-novelist, Dostoievsky, and many other Russian writers: but as he was thegreatest artist of them all, his individual revelation of his country'spredicament did not lose its effect. Writing in prose he achieved astyle of his own which went as near poetry as narrative prose can do. Without using the wrong music: while over his realism or his irony hecast a tinge of that mixed modern and oriental fantasy which belongedto his temperament. He suffered in youth, and suffered badly, from theromantic malady of his century, and that other malady of Russia, bothexpressed in what M. Haumand terms his "Hamletisme. " But in Virgin Soilhe is easy and almost negligent master of his instrument, and though heis an exile and at times a sharply embittered one, he gathers experienceround his theme as only the artist can who has enriched leis artby having outlived his youth without forgetting its pangs, joys, mortifications, and love-songs. 

In Nejdanov it is another picture of that youth which we see--youthreduced to ineffectiveness by fatalism and by the egoism of the lyricnature which longs to gain dramatic freedom, but cannot achieve it. It is one of a series of portraits, wonderfully traced psychologicalstudies of the Russian dreamers and incompatibles of last mid-century, of which the most moving figure is the hero of the earlier novel, Dimitri Rudin. If we cared to follow Turgenev strictly in his growthand contemporary relations, we ought to begin with his Sportsman's NoteBook. But so far as his novels go, he is the last writer to be takenchronologically. He was old enough in youth to understand old age in theforest, and young enough in age to provide his youth with fresh hues foranother incarnation. Another element of his work which is very finelyrevealed and brought to a rare point of characterisation in Virgin Soil, is the prophetic intention he had of the woman's part in the new order. For the real hero of the tale, as Mr. Edward Garnett has pointed out inan essay on Turgenev, is not Nejdanov and not Solomin; the part is castin the woman's figure of Mariana who broke the silence of "anonymousRussia. " Ivan Turgenev had the understanding that goes beneath the olddelimitation of the novelist hide-bound by the law--"male and femalecreated he them. "

He had the same extreme susceptibility to the moods of nature. Heloved her first for herself, and then with a sense of those inheritedprimitive associations with her scenes and hid influences which stillplay upon us to-day; and nothing could be surer than the wilder or tamerglimpses which are seen in this book and in its landscape settings ofthe characters. But Russ as he is, he never lets his scenery hide hispeople: he only uses it to enhance them. He is too great an artist tolose a human trait, as we see even in a grotesque vignette like that ofFomishka and Fimishka, or a chance picture like that of the Irish girlonce seen by Solomin in London. 

Turgenev was born at Orel, son of a cavalry colonel, in ISIS. He died inexile, like his early master in romance Heine--that is in Paris-on the4th of September, 1883. But at his own wish his remains were carriedhome and buried in the Volkoff Cemetery, St. Petersburg. The greycrow he had once seen in foreign fields and addressed in a fit ofhomesickness. 

"Crow, crow, You are grizzled, I know, But from Russia you come; Ah me, there lies home!" called him back to his mother country, whose true sonhe remained despite all he suffered at her hands, and all the delicaterevenges of the artistic prodigal that he was tempted to take. 

E. R. 

The following is the list of Turgenev's chief works:

ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS OF WORKS: Russian Life in the interior: or, theExperiences of a Sportsman, from French version, by J. D. Meiklejohn, 1855; Annals of a Sportsman, from French version, by F. P. Abbott, 1885;Tales from the Notebook of a Sportsman, from the Russian, by E. Richter, 1895; Fathers and Sons, from the Russian, by E. Schuyler, 1867, 1883;Smoke: or, Life at Baden, from French version, 1868, by W. F. West, 1872, 1883; Liza: or, a Nest of Nobles, from the Russian, by W. R. S. Ralston, 1869, 1873, 1884; On the Eve, a tale, from the Russian, by C. E. Turner, 1871; Dimitri Roudine, from French and German versions, 1873, 1883; Spring Floods, from the Russian, by S. M. Batts, 1874; from theRussian, by E. Richter, 1895; A Lear of the Steppe, From the French, byW. H. Browne, 1874; Virgin Soil, from the French, by T. S. Perry, 1877, 1883, by A. W. Dilke, 1878; Poems in Prose, from the Russian, 1883;Senilia, Poems in Prose, with a Biographical Sketch of the Author, by S. J. Macmillan, 1890; First Love, and Punin and Baburin from the Russian, with a Biographical Introduction, by S. Jerrold, 1884; Mumu, and theDiary of a Superfluous Man, from the Russian, by H. Gersoni, 1884;Annouchka, a tale, from the French version, by F. P. Abbott, 1884;from the Russian (with An Unfortunate Woman), by H. Gersoni, 1886; TheUnfortunate One, from the Russian, by A. R. Thompson, 1888 (see abovefor Gersoni's translation); The Watch, from the Russian, by J. E. Williams, 1893. 

WORKS: Novels, translated by Constance Garnett, 15 vols. , 1894-99. 1906. Novels and Stories, translated by Isabel F. Hapgood, with anIntroduction by Henry James, 1903, etc. 

LIFE: See above, Biographical Introductions to Poems in Prose and FirstLove; E. M. Arnold, Tourgueneff and his French Circle, translated fromthe work of E. Halperine-Kaminsky, 1898; J. A. T. Lloyd, Two RussianReformers: Ivan Turgenev, Leo Tolstoy, 1910. 

VIRGIN SOIL

 "To turn over virgin soil it is necessary to use a deep plough going well into the earth, not a surface plough gliding lightly over the top. "--From a Farmer's Notebook. 

I

AT one o'clock in the afternoon of a spring day in the year 1868, ayoung man of twenty-seven, carelessly and shabbily dressed, was toilingup the back staircase of a five-storied house on Officers Street inSt. Petersburg. Noisily shuffling his down-trodden goloshes and slowlyswinging his heavy, clumsy figure, the man at last reached the very topflight and stopped before a half-open door hanging off its hinges. Hedid not ring the bell, but gave a loud sigh and walked straight into asmall, dark passage. 

"Is Nejdanov at home?" he called out in a deep, loud voice. 

"No, he's not. I'm here. Come in, " an equally coarse woman's voiceresponded from the adjoining room. 

"Is that Mashurina?" asked the newcomer. 

"Yes, it is I. Are you Ostrodumov?

"Pemien Ostrodumov, " he replied, carefully removing his goloshes, andhanging his shabby coat on a nail, he went into the room from whenceissued the woman's voice. 

It was a narrow, untidy room, with dull green coloured walls, badlylighted by two dusty windows. The furnishings consisted of an ironbedstead standing in a corner, a table in the middle, several chairs, and a bookcase piled up with books. At the table sat a woman of aboutthirty. She was bareheaded, clad in a black stuff dress, and was smokinga cigarette. On catching sight of Ostrodumov she extended her broad, redhand without a word. He shook it, also without saying anything, droppedinto a chair and pulled a half-broken cigar out of a side pocket. Mashurina gave him a light, and without exchanging a single word, or somuch as looking at one another, they began sending out long, blue puffsinto the stuffy room, already filled with smoke. 

There was something similar about these two smokers, although theirfeatures were not a bit alike. In these two slovenly figures, with theircoarse lips, teeth, and noses (Ostrodumov was even pock-marked), therewas something honest and firm and persevering. 

"Have you seen Nejdanov?" Ostrodumov asked. 

"Yes. He will be back directly. He has gone to the library with somebooks. "

Ostrodumov spat to one side. 

"Why is he always rushing about nowadays? One can never get hold ofhim. "

Mashurina took out another cigarette. 

"He's bored, " she remarked, lighting it carefully. 

"Bored!" Ostrodumov repeated reproachfully. "What self-indulgence! Onewould think we had no work to do. Heaven knows how we shall get throughwith it, and he complains of being bored!"

"Have you heard from Moscow?" Mashurina asked after a pause. 

"Yes. A letter came three days ago. "

"Have you read it?"

Ostrodumov nodded his head. 

"Well? What news?

"Some of us must go there soon. "

Mashurina took the cigarette out of her mouth. 

"But why?" she asked. "They say everything is going on well there. "

"Yes, that is so, but one man has turned out unreliable and must begot rid of. Besides that, there are other things. They want you to cometoo. "

"Do they say so in the letter?"

"Yes. "

Mashurina shook back her heavy hair, which was twisted into a smallplait at the back, and fell over her eyebrows in front. 

"Well, " she remarked; "if the thing is settled, then there is nothingmore to be said. "

"Of course not. Only one can't do anything without money, and where arewe to get it from?"

Mashurina became thoughtful. 

"Nejdanov must get the money, " she said softly, as if to herself. 

"That is precisely what I have come about, " Ostrodumov observed. 

"Have you got the letter?" Mashurina asked suddenly. 

"Yes. Would you like to see it?"

"I should rather. But never mind, we can read it together presently. "

"You need not doubt what I say. I am speaking the truth, " Ostrodumovgrumbled. 

"I do not doubt it in the least. " They both ceased speaking and, asbefore, clouds of smoke rose silently from their mouths and curledfeebly above their shaggy heads. 

A sound of goloshes was heard from the passage. 

"There he is, " Mashurina whispered. 

The door opened slightly and a head was thrust in, but it was not thehead of Nejdanov. 

It was a round head with rough black hair, a broad wrinkled forehead, bright brown eyes under thick eyebrows, a snub nose and a humorously-setmouth. The head looked round, nodded, smiled, showing a set of tinywhite teeth, and came into the room with its feeble body, short arms, and bandy legs, which were a little lame. As soon as Mashurina andOstrodumov caught sight of this head, an expression of contempt mixedwith condescension came over their faces, as if each was thinkinginwardly, "What a nuisance!" but neither moved nor uttered a singleword. The newly arrived guest was not in the least taken aback by thisreception, however; on the contrary it seemed to amuse him. 

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a squeaky voice. "A duet? Whynot a trio? And where's the chief tenor?

"Do you mean Nejdanov, Mr. Paklin?" Ostrodumov asked solemnly. 

"Yes, Mr. Ostrodumov. "

"He will be back directly, Mr. Paklin. "

"I am glad to hear that, Mr. Ostrodumov. "

The little cripple turned to Mashurina. She frowned, and continuedleisurely puffing her cigarette. 

"How are you, my dear. .. My dear. .. I am so sorry. I always forget yourChristian name and your father's name. "

Mashurina shrugged her shoulders. 

"There is no need for you to know it. I think you know my surname. Whatmore do you want? And why do you always keep on asking how I am? You seethat I am still in the land of the living!"

"Of course!" Paklin exclaimed, his face twitching nervously. "If you hadbeen elsewhere, your humble servant would not have had the pleasure ofseeing you here, and of talking to you! My curiosity is due to a bad, old-fashioned habit. But with regard to your name, it is awkward, somehow, simply to say Mashurina. I know that even in letters you onlysign yourself Bonaparte! I beg pardon, Mashurina, but in conversation, however--"

"And who asks you to talk to me, pray?"

Paklin gave a nervous, gulpy laugh. 

"Well, never mind, my dear. Give me your hand. Don't be cross. I knowyou mean well, and so do I. .. Well?"

Paklin extended his hand, Mashurina looked at him severely and extendedher own. 

"If you really want to know my name, " she said with the same expressionof severity on her face, "I am called Fiekla. "

"And I, Pemien, " Ostrodumov added in his bass voice. 

"How very instructive! Then tell me, Oh Fiekla! and you, Oh Pemien! whyyou are so unfriendly, so persistently unfriendly to me when I--"

"Mashurina thinks, " Ostrodumov interrupted him, "and not only Mashurina, that you are not to be depended upon, because you always laugh ateverything. "

Paklin turned round on his heels. 

"That is the usual mistake people make about me, my dear Pemien! In thefirst place, I am not always laughing, and even if I were, that is noreason why you should not trust me. In the second, I have been flatteredwith your confidence on more than one occasion before now, a convincingproof of my trustworthiness. I am an honest man, my dear Pemien. "

Ostrodumov muttered something between his teeth, but Paklin continuedwithout the slightest trace of a smile on his face. 

"No, I am not always laughing! I am not at all a cheerful person. Youhave only to look at me!"

Ostrodumov looked at him. And really, when Paklin was not laughing, whenhe was silent, his face assumed a dejected, almost scared expression;it became funny and rather sarcastic only when he opened his lips. Ostrodumov did not say anything, however, and Paklin turned to Mashurinaagain. 

"Well? And how are your studies getting on? Have you made anyprogress in your truly philanthropical art? Is it very hard to help aninexperienced citizen on his first appearance in this world?

"It is not at all hard if he happens to be no bigger than you are!"Mashurina retorted with a self-satisfied smile. (She had quite recentlypassed her examination as a midwife. Coming from a poor aristocraticfamily, she had left her home in the south of Russia about two yearsbefore, and with about twelve shillings in her pocket had arrived inMoscow, where she had entered a lying-in institution and had workedvery hard to gain the necessary certificate. She was unmarried andvery chaste. ) "No wonder!" some sceptics may say (bearing in mind thedescription of her personal appearance; but we will permit ourselves tosay that it was wonderful and rare). 

Paklin laughed at her retort. 

"Well done, my dear! I feel quite crushed! But it serves me right forbeing such a dwarf! I wonder where our host has got to?"

Paklin purposely changed the subject of conversation, which was rather asore one to him. He could never resign himself to his small stature, norindeed to the whole of his unprepossessing figure. He felt it all themore because he was passionately fond of women and would have givenanything to be attractive to them. The consciousness of his pitifulappearance was a much sorer point with him than his low origin andunenviable position in society. His father, a member of the lower middleclass, had, through all sorts of dishonest means, attained the rank oftitular councillor. He had been fairly successful as an intermediaryin legal matters, and managed estates and house property. He had made amoderate fortune, but had taken to drink towards the end of his life andhad left nothing after his death. 

Young Paklin, he was called Sila--Sila Samsonitch, [Meaning strength, son of Samson] and always regarded this name as a joke against himself, was educated in a commercial school, where he had acquired a goodknowledge of German. After a great many difficulties he had entered anoffice, where he received a salary of five hundred roubles a year, out of which he had to keep himself, an invalid aunt, and a humpbackedsister. At the time of our story Paklin was twenty-eight years old. He had a great many acquaintances among students and young people, who liked him for his cynical wit, his harmless, though biting, self-confident speeches, his one-sided, unpedantic, though genuine, learning, but occasionally they sat on him severely. Once, on arrivinglate at a political meeting, he hastily began excusing himself. "Paklinwas afraid!" some one sang out from a corner of the room, and everyonelaughed. Paklin laughed with them, although it was like a stab in hisheart. "He is right, the blackguard!" he thought to himself. Nejdanov hehad come across in a little Greek restaurant, where he was in thehabit of taking his dinner, and where he sat airing his rather freeand audacious views. He assured everyone that the main cause of hisdemocratic turn of mind was the bad Greek cooking, which upset hisliver. 

"I wonder where our host has got to?" he repeated. "He has been out ofsorts lately. Heaven forbid that he should be in love!"

Mashurina scowled. 

"He has gone to the library for books. As for falling in love, he hasneither the time nor the opportunity. "

"Why not with you?" almost escaped Paklin's lips. 

"I should like to see him, because I have an important matter to talkover with him, " he said aloud. 

"What about?" Ostrodumov asked. "Our affairs?"

"Perhaps yours; that is, our common affairs. "

Ostrodumov hummed. He did not believe him. "Who knows? He's such a busybody, " he thought. 

"There he is at last!" Mashurina exclaimed suddenly, and her smallunattractive eyes, fixed on the door, brightened, as if lit up by aninner ray, making them soft and warm and tender. 

The door opened, and this time a young man of twenty-three, with a capon his head and a bundle of books under his arm, entered the room. Itwas Nejdanov himself. 

II

AT the sight of visitors he stopped in the doorway, took them in at aglance, threw off his cap, dropped the books on to the floor, walkedover to the bed, and sat down on the very edge. An expression ofannoyance and displeasure passed over his pale handsome face, whichseemed even paler than it really was, in contrast to his dark-red, wavyhair. 

Mashurina turned away and bit her lip; Ostrodumov muttered, "At last!"

Paklin was the first to approach him. 

"Why, what is the matter, Alexai Dmitritch, Hamlet of Russia? Hassomething happened, or are you just simply depressed, without anyparticular cause?

"Oh, stop! Mephistopheles of Russia!" Nejdanov exclaimed irritably. "Iam not in the mood for fencing with blunt witticisms just now. "

Paklin laughed. 

"That's not quite correct. If it is wit, then it can't be blunt. Ifblunt, then it can't be wit. "

"All right, all right! We know you are clever!

"Your nerves are out of order, " Paklin remarked hesitatingly. "Or hassomething really happened?"

"Oh, nothing in particular, only that it is impossible to show one'snose in this hateful town without knocking against some vulgarity, stupidity, tittle-tattle, or some horrible injustice. One can't livehere any longer!"

"Is that why your advertisement in the papers says that you want a placeand have no objection to leaving St. Petersburg?" Ostrodumov asked. 

"Yes. I would go away from here with the greatest of pleasure, if somefool could be found who would offer me a place!"

"You should first fulfill your duties here, " Mashurina remarkedsignificantly, her face still turned away. 

"What duties?" Nejdanov asked, turning towards her. 

Mashurina bit her lip. "Ask Ostrodumov. "

Nejdanov turned to Ostrodumov. The latter hummed and hawed, as if tosay, "Wait a minute. "

"But seriously, " Paklin broke in, "have you heard any unpleasant news?"

Nejdanov bounced up from the bed like an india-rubber ball. "What moredo you want?" he shouted out suddenly, in a ringing voice. "Half ofRussia is dying of hunger! The Moscow News is triumphant! They wantto introduce classicism, the students' benefit clubs have been closed, spies everywhere, oppression, lies, betrayals, deceit! And it is notenough for him! He wants some new unpleasantness! He thinks that I amjoking. .. . Basanov has been arrested, " he added, lowering his voice. "Iheard it at the library. "

Mashurina and Ostrodumov lifted their heads simultaneously. 

"My dear Alexai Dmitritch, " Paklin began, "you are upset, and for a verygood reason. But have you forgotten in what times and in what country weare living? Amongst us a drowning man must himself create the straw toclutch at. Why be sentimental over it? One must look the devil straightin the face and not get excited like children--"

"Oh, don't, please!" Nejdanov interrupted him desperately, frowning asif in pain. "We know you are energetic and not afraid of anything--"

"I--not afraid of anything?" Paklin began. 

"I wonder who could have betrayed Basanov?" Nejdanov continued. "Isimply can't understand!"

"A friend no doubt. Friends are great at that. One must look alive! Ionce had a friend, who seemed a good fellow; he was always concernedabout me and my reputation. 'I say, what dreadful stories are beingcirculated about you!' he would greet me one day. 'They say that youpoisoned your uncle and that on one occasion, when you were introducedinto a certain house, you sat the whole evening with your back to thehostess and that she was so upset that she cried at the insult! Whatawful nonsense! What fools could possibly believe such things!' Well, and what do you think? A year after I quarrelled with this same friend, and in his farewell letter to me he wrote, 'You who killed your ownuncle! You who were not ashamed to insult an honourable lady by sittingwith your back to her, ' and so on and so on. Here are friends for you!"

Ostrodumov and Mashurina exchanged glances. 

"Alexai Dmitritch!" Ostrodumov exclaimed in his heavy bass voice; he wasevidently anxious to avoid a useless discussion. "A letter has come fromMoscow, from Vassily Nikolaevitch. "

Nejdanov trembled slightly and cast down his eyes. 

"What does he say?" he asked at last. 

"He wants us to go there with her. " Ostrodumov indicated to Mashurinawith his eyebrows. 

"Do they want her too?'

"Yes. "

"Well, what's the difficulty?

"Why, money, of course. "

Nejdanov got up from the bed and walked over to the window. 

"How much do you want?"

"Not less than fifty roubles. "

Nejdanov was silent. 

"I have no money just now, " he whispered at last, drumming his fingerson the window pane, "but I could get some. Have you got the letter?"

"Yes, it. .. That is. .. Certainly. .. "

"Why are you always trying to keep things from me?" Paklin exclaimed. "Have I not deserved your confidence? Even if I were not fully insympathy with what you are undertaking, do you think for a moment that Iam in a position to turn around or gossip?"

"Without intending to, perhaps, " Ostrodumov remarked. 

"Neither with nor without intention! Miss Mashurina is looking at mewith a smile. .. But I say--"

"I am not smiling!" Mashurina burst out. 

"But I say, " Paklin went on, "that you have no tact. You are utterlyincapable of recognising your real friends. If a man can laugh, then youthink that he can't be serious--"

"Is it not so?" Mashurina snapped. 

"You are in need of money, for instance, " Paklin continued with newforce, paying no attention to Mashurina; "Nejdanov hasn't any. I couldget it for you. "

Nejdanov wheeled round from the window. 

"No, no. It is not necessary. I can get the money. I will draw some ofmy allowance in advance. Now I recollect, they owe me something. Let uslook at the letter, Ostrodumov. "

Ostrodumov remained motionless for a time, then he looked around, stoodup, bent down, turned up one of the legs of his trousers, and carefullypulled a piece of blue paper out of his high boot, blew at it for somereason or another, and handed it to Nejdanov. The latter took the pieceof paper, unfolded it, read it carefully, and passed it on to Mashurina. She stood up, also read it, and handed it back to Nejdanov, althoughPaklin had extended his hand for it. Nejdanov shrugged his shoulders andgave the secret letter to Paklin. The latter scanned the paper in histurn, pressed his lips together significantly, and laid it solemnly onthe table. Ostrodumov took it, lit a large match, which exhaled a strongodour of sulphur, lifted the paper high above his head, as if showing itto all present, set fire to it, and, regardless of his fingers, putthe ashes into the stove. No one moved or pronounced a word during thisproceeding; all had their eyes fixed on the floor. Ostrodumov lookedconcentrated and business-like, Nejdanov furious, Paklin intense, andMashurina as if she were present at holy mass. 

About two minutes went by in this way, everyone feeling uncomfortable. Paklin was the first to break the silence. 

"Well?" he began. "Is my sacrifice to be received on the altar of thefatherland? Am I permitted to bring, if not the whole at any rate, twenty-five or thirty roubles for the common cause?"

Nejdanov flared up. He seemed to be boiling over with annoyance, whichwas not lessened by the solemn burning of the letter--he was onlywaiting for an opportunity to burst out. 

"I tell you that I don't want it, don't want, don't want it! I'll notallow it and I'll not take it! I can get the money. I can get it atonce. I am not in need of anyone's help!

"My dear Alexai, " Paklin remarked, "I see that you are not a democrat inspite of your being a revolutionist!"

"Why not say straight out that I'm an aristocrat?"

"So you are up to a certain point. "

Nejdanov gave a forced laugh. 

"I see you are hinting at the fact of my being illegitimate. You cansave yourself the trouble, my dear boy. I am not likely to forget it. "

Paklin threw up his arms in despair. 

"Aliosha! What is the matter with you? How can you twist my words so? Ihardly know you today. "

Nejdanov shrugged his shoulders. 

"Basanov's arrest has upset you, but he was so careless--"

"He did not hide his convictions, " Mashurina put in gloomily. "It is notfor us to sit in judgment upon him!"

"Quite so; only he might have had a little more consideration forothers, who are likely to be compromised through him now. "

"What makes you think so?" Ostrodumov bawled out in his turn. "Basanovhas plenty of character, he will not betray anyone. Besides, not everyone can be cautious you know, Mr. Paklin. "

Paklin was offended and was about to say something when Nejdanovinterrupted him. 

"I vote we leave politics for a time, ladies and gentlemen!" heexclaimed. 

A silence ensued. 

"I ran across Skoropikin today, " Paklin was the first to begin. "Ourgreat national critic, aesthetic, and enthusiast! What an insufferablecreature! He is forever boiling and frothing over like a bottle of sourkvas. A waiter runs with it, his finger stuck in the bottle instead ofa cork, a fat raisin in the neck, and when it has done frothing andfoaming there is nothing left at the bottom but a few drops of somenasty stuff, which far from quenching any one's thirst is enough tomake one ill. He's a most dangerous person for young people to come incontact with. "

Paklin's true and rather apt comparison raised no smile on hislisteners' faces, only Nejdanov remarked that if young people werefools enough to interest themselves in aesthetics, they deserved no pitywhatever, even if Skoropikin did lead them astray. 

"Of course, " Paklin exclaimed with some warmth--the less sympathy he metwith, the more heated he became--"I admit that the question is nota political one, but an important one, nevertheless. According toSkoropikin, every ancient work of art is valueless because it is old. Ifthat were true, then art would be reduced to nothing more or less thanmere fashion. A preposterous idea, not worth entertaining. If art hasno firmer foundation than that, if it is not eternal, then it is utterlyuseless. Take science, for instance. In mathematics do you look uponEuler, Laplace, or Gauss as fools? Of course not. You accept theirauthority. Then why question the authority of Raphael and Mozart? I mustadmit, however, that the laws of art are far more difficult to definethan the laws of nature, but they exist just the same, and he who failsto see them is blind, whether he shuts his eyes to them purposely ornot. "

Paklin ceased, but no one uttered a word. They all sat with tightlyclosed mouths as if feeling unutterably sorry for him. 

"All the same, " Ostrodumov remarked, "I am not in the least sorry forthe young people who run after Skoropikin. "

"You are hopeless, " Paklin thought. "I had better be going. "

He went up to Nejdanov, intending to ask his opinion about smugglingin the magazine, the "Polar Star", from abroad (the "Bell" had alreadyceased to exist), but the conversation took such a turn that it wasimpossible to raise the question. Paklin had already taken up his hat, when suddenly, without the slightest warning, a wonderfully pleasant, manly baritone was heard from the passage. The very sound of this voicesuggested something gentle, fresh, and well-bred. 

"Is Mr. Nejdanov at home?"

They all looked at one another in amazement. 

"Is Mr. Nejdanov at home?" the baritone repeated. 

"Yes, he is, " Nejdanov replied at last. 

The door opened gently and a man of about forty entered the room andslowly removed his glossy hat from his handsome, closely cropped head. He was tall and well-made, and dressed in a beautiful cloth coat witha gorgeous beaver collar, although it was already the end of April. Heimpressed Nejdanov and Paklin, and even Mashurina and Ostrodumov, with his elegant, easy carriage and courteous manner. They all roseinstinctively on his entrance. 

III

THE elegantly dressed man went up to Nejdanov with an amiable smile andbegan: "I have already had the pleasure of meeting you and even speakingto you, Mr. Nejdanov, the day before yesterday, if you remember, at thetheatre. " (The visitor paused, as though waiting for Nejdanov to makesome remark, but the latter merely bowed slightly and blushed. ) "I havecome to see you about your advertisement, which I noticed in the paper. I should like us to have a talk if your visitors would not mind. .. " (Hebowed to Mashurina, and waved a grey-gloved hand in the direction ofPaklin and Ostrodumov. )

"Not at all, " Nejdanov replied awkwardly. "Won't you sit down?"

The visitor bowed from the waist, drew a chair to himself, but did notsit down, as every one else was standing. He merely gazed around the roomwith his bright though half-closed eyes. 

"Goodbye, Alexai Dmitritch, " Mashurina exclaimed suddenly. "I will comeagain presently. "

"And I too, " Ostrodumov added. 

Mashurina did not take the slightest notice of the visitor as she passedhim, but went straight up to Nejdanov, gave him a hearty shake of thehand, and left the room without bowing to anyone. Ostrodumov followedher, making an unnecessary noise with his boots, and snorting out onceor twice contemptuously, "There's a beaver collar for you!"

The visitor accompanied them with a polite though slightly inquisitivelook, and then directed his gaze to Paklin, hoping the latter wouldfollow their example, but Paklin withdrew into a corner and settleddown. A peculiarly suppressed smile played on his lips ever since theappearance of the stranger. The visitor and Nejdanov also sat down. 

"My name is Sipiagin. You may perhaps have heard of me, " the visitorbegan with modest pride. 

We must first relate how Nejdanov had met him at the theatre. 

There had been a performance of Ostrovsky's play "Never Sit in AnotherMan's Sledge", on the occasion of the great actor Sadovsky's coming fromMoscow. Rusakov, one of the characters in the play, was known to be oneof his favourite parts. Just before dinner on that day, Nejdanov wentdown to the theatre to book a ticket, but found a large crowd alreadywaiting there. He walked up to the desk with the intention of getting aticket for the pit, when an officer, who happened to be standing behindhim, thrust a three-rouble note over Nejdanov's head and called out tothe man inside: "He" (meaning Nejdanov) "will probably want change. Idon't. Give me a ticket for the stalls, please. Make haste, I'm in ahurry!"

"Excuse me, sir, I want a ticket for the stalls myself!" Nejdanovexclaimed, throwing down a three-rouble note, all the ready moneyhe possessed. He got his ticket, and in the evening appeared in thearistocratic part of the Alexandrinsky Theatre. 

He was badly dressed, without gloves and in dirty boots. He wasuncomfortable and angry with himself for feeling uncomfortable. Ageneral with numerous orders glittering on his breast sat on his right, and on his left this same elegant Sipiagin, whose appearance two dayslater at Nejdanov's so astonished Mashurina and Ostrodumov. The generalstared at Nejdanov every now and again, as though at something indecent, out of place, and offensive. Sipiagin looked at him sideways, but didnot seem unfriendly. All the people surrounding him were evidentlypersonages of some importance, and as they all knew one another, theykept exchanging remarks, exclamations, greetings, occasionally even overNejdanov's head. He sat there motionless and ill at ease in his spaciousarmchair, feeling like an outcast. Ostrovsky's play and Sadovsky'sacting afforded him but little pleasure, and he felt bitter at heart. When suddenly, Oh wonder! During one of the intervals, his neighbouron the left, not the glittering general, but the other with no marksof distinction on his breast, addressed him politely and kindly, butsomewhat timidly. He asked him what he thought of Ostrovsky's play, wanted to know his opinion of it as a representative of the newgeneration. Nejdanov, overwhelmed and half frightened, his heart beatingfast, answered at first curtly, in monosyllables, but soon began to beannoyed with his own excitement. "After all, " he thought, "am I nota man like everybody else?" And began expressing his opinions quitefreely, without any restraint. He got so carried away by his subject, and spoke so loudly, that he quite alarmed the order-bedecked general. Nejdanov was a strong admirer of Ostrovsky, but could not help feeling, in spite of the author's great genius, his evident desire to throw aslur on modern civilisation in the burlesqued character of Veherov, in"Never Sit in Another Man's Sledge". 

His polite neighbour listened to him attentively, evidently interestedin what he said. He spoke to him again in the next interval, not aboutthe play this time, but about various matters of everyday life, aboutscience, and even touched upon political questions. He was decidedlyinterested in his eloquent young companion. Nejdanov did not feel inthe least constrained as before, but even began to assume airs, as ifsaying, "If you really want to know, I can satisfy your curiosity!" Thegeneral's annoyance grew to indignation and even suspicion. 

After the play Sipiagin took leave of Nejdanov very courteously, but didnot ask his name, neither did he tell him his own. While waiting for hiscarriage, he ran against a friend, a certain Prince G. , an aide-de-camp. 

"I watched you from my box, " the latter remarked, through a perfumedmoustache. "Do you know whom you were speaking to?"

"No. Do you? A rather clever chap. Who is he?"

The prince whispered in his ear in French. "He is my brother. . . . Illegitimate. .. . His name is Nejdanov. I will tell you all about itsomeday. My father did not in the least expect that sort of thing, thatwas why he called him Nejdanov. [The unexpected. ] But he looked afterhim all right. Il lui a fait un sort. We make him an allowance to liveon. He is not stupid. Had quite a good education, thanks to my father. But he has gone quite off the track--I think he's a republican. Werefuse to have anything to do with him. Il est impossible. Goodbye, Isee my carriage is waiting. "

The prince separated. 

The next day Sipiagin noticed Nejdanov's advertisement in the paper andwent to see him. 

"My name is Sipiagin, " he repeated, as he sat in front of Nejdanov, surveying him with a dignified air. "I see by your advertisement thatyou are looking for a post, and I should like to know if you would bewilling to come to me. I am married and have a boy of eight, a veryintelligent child, I may say. We usually spend the summer and autumn inthe country, in the province of S. , about five miles from the town ofthat name. I should like you to come to us for the vacation to teachmy boy Russian history and grammar. I think those were the subjects youmentioned in your advertisement. I think you will get on with us allright, and I am sure you will like the neighbourhood. We have a largehouse and garden, the air is excellent, and there is a river closeby. Well, would you like to come? We shall only have to come to terms, although I do not think, " he added, with a slight grimace, "that therewill be any difficulty on that point between us. "

Nejdanov watched Sipiagin all the time he was speaking. He gazed at hissmall head, bent a little to one side, his low, narrow, but intelligentforehead, his fine Roman nose, pleasant eyes, straight lips, out ofwhich his words flowed graciously; he gazed at his drooping whiskers, kept in the English fashion, gazed and wondered. "What does it allmean?" he asked himself. "Why has this man come to seek me out? Thisaristocrat and I! What have we in common? What does he see in me?"

He was so lost in thought that he did not open his lips when Sipiagin, having finished speaking, evidently awaited an answer. Sipiagin cast alook into the corner where Paklin sat, also watching him. "Perhaps thepresence of a third person prevents him from saying what he wouldlike, " flashed across Sipiagin's mind. He raised his eyebrows, as if insubmission to the strangeness of the surroundings he had come to of hisown accord, and repeated his question a second time. 

Nejdanov started. 

"Of course, " he began hurriedly, "I should like to. .. With pleasure. .. . Only I must confess. .. I am rather surprised. .. Having norecommendations. .. And the views I expressed at the theatre were morecalculated to prejudice you--"

"There you are quite mistaken Alexai--Alexai Dmitritch--have I got thename right?" Sipiagin asked with a smile. "I may venture to say that Iam well known for my liberal and progressive opinions. On the contrary, what you said the other evening, with the exception perhaps of anyyouthful characteristics, which are always rather given to exaggeration, if you will excuse my saying so, I fully agreed with, and was evendelighted with your enthusiasm. "

Sipiagin spoke without the slightest hesitation, his words flowing fromhim as a stream. 

"My wife shares my way of thinking, " he continued, "her views are, if anything, more like yours than mine, which is not surprising, considering that she is younger than I am. When I read your name in thepaper the day after our meeting--and by the way, you announced your nameand address contrary to the usual custom--I was rather struck by thecoincidence, having already heard it at the theatre. It seemed tome like the finger of fate. Excuse my being so superstitious. As forrecommendations, I do not think they are necessary in this case. I, likeyou, am accustomed to trusting my intuition. May I hope that you willcome?"

"Yes, I will come, " Nejdanov replied, "and will try to be worthy of yourconfidence. But there is one thing I should like to mention. I couldundertake to teach your boy, but am not prepared to look after him. I donot wish to undertake anything that would interfere with my freedom. "

Sipiagin gave a slight wave of the hand, as if driving away a fly. 

"You may be easy on that point. You are not made that way. I only wanteda tutor, and I have found one. Well, now, how about terms? Financialterms, that is. Base metal!"

Nejdanov did not know what to say. 

"I think, " Sipiagin went on, bending forward and touching Nejdanov withthe tips of his fingers, "that decent people can settle such things intwo words. I will give you a hundred roubles a month and all travellingexpenses. Will you come?"

Nejdanov blushed. 

"That is more than I wanted to ask. .. Because I--"

"Well, " Sipiagin interrupted him, "I look upon the matter as settled, and consider you as a member of our household. " He rose from hischair, and became quite gay and expansive, as if he had just received apresent. A certain amiable familiarity, verging on the playful, began toshow itself in all his gestures. "We shall set out in a day or two, " hewent on, in an easy tone. "There is nothing I love better than meetingspring in the country, although I am a busy, prosaic sort of person, tied to town. .. I want you to count your first month as beginning fromtoday. My wife and boy have already started, and are probably in Moscowby now. We shall find them in the lap of nature. We will go alone, liketwo bachelors, ha, ha!" Sipiagin laughed coquettishly, through his nose. "And now--"

He took a black and silver pocketbook out of his overcoat pocket andpulled out a card. 

"This is my address. Come and see me tomorrow at about twelve o'clock. We can talk things over further. I should like to tell you a few of myviews on education. We can also decide when to start. "

Sipiagin took Nejdanov's hand. "By the way, " he said, lowering his voiceand bending his head a little to one side, "if you are in need of money, please do not stand on ceremony. I can let you have a month's pay inadvance. "

Nejdanov was at a loss to know what to say. He gazed, with the samepuzzled expression, at the kind, bright face, which was so strange yetso close to him, smiling encouragingly. 

"You are not in need of any?" Sipiagin asked in a whisper. 

"I will tell you tomorrow, if I may, " Nejdanov said at last. 

"Well, goodbye, then. Till tomorrow. " Sipiagin dropped Nejdanov's handand turned to go out. 

"I should like to know, " Nejdanov asked suddenly, "who told you my name?You said you heard it at the theatre. "

"Someone who is very well known to you. A relative of yours, I think. Prince G. "

"The aide-de-camp?"

"Yes. "

Nejdanov flushed even redder than before, but did not say anything. Sipiagin shook his hand again, without a word this time, then bowingfirst to him and then to Paklin, put on his hat at the door, andwent out with a self-satisfied smile on his lips, denoting the deepimpression the visit must have produced upon him. 

IV

SIPIAGIN had barely crossed the threshold when Paklin jumped up, andrushing across to Nejdanov began showering congratulations upon him. 

"What a fine catch!" he exclaimed laughing, scarcely able to standstill. "Do you know who he is? He's quite a celebrity, a chamberlain, one of our pillars of society, a future minister!"

"I have never heard of him, " Nejdanov remarked dejectedly. 

Paklin threw up his arms in despair. 

"That's just where we are mistaken, Alexai Dmitritch! We never knowanyone. We want to do things, to turn the whole world upside down, and are living outside this very world, amidst two or three friends, jostling each other in our narrow little circle!

"Excuse me, " Nejdanov put in. "I don't think that is quite true. Wecertainly do not go amongst the enemy, but are constantly mixing withour own kind, and with the masses. "

"Just a minute!" Paklin interrupted, in his turn. "Talking of enemiesreminds me of Goethe's lines--

 Wer den Dichter will versteh'n Muss im Dichter's lands geh'n. 

and I say--

 Wer den Feinde will versteh'n Muss im Feinde's lands geh'n. 

To turn one's back on one's enemies, not to try and understand theirmanner of life, is utterly stupid! Yes, utterly stu-pid! If I want toshoot a wolf in the forest, I must first find out his haunts. You talkedof coming in contact with the people just now. My dear boy! In 1862 thePoles formed their revolutionary bands in the forest; we are just aboutto enter that same forest, I mean the people, where it is no less darkand dense than in the other. "

"Then what would you have us do?"

"The Hindus cast themselves under the wheels of the Juggernaut, " Paklincontinued; "they were mangled to pieces and died in ecstasy. We, also, have our Juggernaut--it crushes and mangles us, but there is no ecstasyin it. "

"Then what would you have us do?" Nejdanov almost screamed at him. "Would you have us write preachy novels?"

Paklin folded his arms and put his head on one side. 

"You, at any rate, could write novels. You have a decidedly literaryturn of mind. All right, I won't say anything about it. I know you don'tlike it being mentioned. I know it is not very exciting to write thesort of stuff wanted, and in the modern style too. '"Oh, I love you, "she bounded--'"

"It's all the same to me, " he replied, scratching himself. 

"That is precisely why I advise you to get to know all sorts andconditions, beginning from the very highest. We must not be entirelydependent on people like Ostrodumov! They are very honest, worthy folk, but so hopelessly stupid! You need only look at our friend. The verysoles of his boots are not like those worn by intelligent people. Whydid he hurry away just now? Only because he did not want to be in thesame room with an aristocrat, to breathe the same air--"

"Please don't talk like that about Ostrodumov before me!" Nejdanov burstout. "He wears thick boots because they are cheaper!"

"I did not mean it in that sense, " Paklin began. 

"If he did not wish to remain in the same room with an aristocrat, "Nejdanov continued, raising his voice, "I think it very praiseworthy onhis part, and what is more, he is capable of sacrificing himself, willface death, if necessary, which is more than you or I will ever do!"

Paklin made a sad grimace, and pointed to his scraggy, crippled legs. 

"Now do I look like a warrior, my dear Alexai Dmitritch? But enough ofthis. I am delighted that you met this Sipiagin, and can even foreseesomething useful to our cause as a result of it. You will find yourselfin the highest society, will come in contact with those wonderfulbeauties one hears about, women with velvety bodies on steel springs, asit says in 'Letters on Spain'. Get to know them, my dear fellow. If youwere at all inclined to be an Epicurean, I should really be afraid tolet you go. But those are not the objects with which you are going, arethey?"

"I am going away, " Nejdanov said, "to earn my living. And to get awayfrom you all, " he added to himself. 

"Of course, of course! That is why I advise you to learn. Fugh! What asmell this gentleman has left behind him!" Paklin sniffed the air. "Thevery ambrosia that the governor's wife longed for in Gogol's 'Revisor'!"

"He discussed me with Prince G. , " Nejdanov remarked dejectedly. "Isuppose he knows my whole history now. "

"You need not suppose; you may be quite sure of it! But what does itmatter? I wouldn't mind betting that that was the very reason for hiswanting to engage you. You will be able to hold your own with the bestof them. You are an aristocrat yourself by blood, and consequentlyan equal. However, I have stayed too long. I must go back to theexploiter's, to my office. Goodbye. "

Paklin went to the door, but stopped and turned back. 

"I say, Aliosha, " he began in a persuasive tone of voice, "you have onlyjust refused me, and I know you will not be short of money now; but, allthe same, do allow me to sacrifice just a little for the cause. I can'tdo anything else, so let me help with my pocket! I have put ten roubleson the table. Will you take them?"

Nejdanov remained motionless, and did not say anything. "Silence meansconsent! Thanks!" Paklin exclaimed gaily and vanished. 

Nejdanov was left alone. He continued gazing out into the narrow, gloomycourt, unpenetrated by the sun even in summer, and he felt sad andgloomy at heart. 

We already know that Nejdanov's father was Prince G. , a richadjutant-general. His mother was the daughter of the general'sgoverness, a pretty girl who died on the day of Nejdanov's birth. Hereceived his early education in a boarding school kept by a certainSwiss, a very energetic and severe pedagogue, after which he entered theuniversity. His great ambition was to study law, but his father, whohad a violent hatred for nihilists, made him go in for history andphilology, or for "aesthetics" as Nejdanov put it with a bitter smile. His father used to see him about four times a year in all, but was, nevertheless, interested in his welfare, and when he died, left him asum of six thousand roubles "in memory of Nastinka" his mother. Nejdanovreceived the interest on this money from his brothers the Princes G. , which they were pleased to call an allowance. 

Paklin had good reason to call him an aristocrat. Everything about himbetokened his origin. His tiny ears, hands, feet, his small but finefeatures, delicate skin, wavy hair; his very voice was pleasant, although it was slightly guttural. He was highly strung, frightfullyconceited, very susceptible, and even capricious. The false position hehad been placed in from childhood had made him sensitive and irritable, but his natural generosity had kept him from becoming suspiciousand mistrustful. This same false position was the cause of an utterinconsistency, which permeated his whole being. He was fastidiouslyaccurate and horribly squeamish, tried to be cynical and coarse inhis speech, but was an idealist by nature. He was passionate andpure-minded, bold and timid at the same time, and, like a repentantsinner, ashamed of his sins; he was ashamed alike of his timidity andhis purity, and considered it his duty to scoff at all idealism. He hadan affectionate heart, but held himself aloof from everybody, was easilyexasperated, but never bore ill-will. He was furious with his fatherfor having made him take up "aesthetics, " openly interested himself inpolitics and social questions, professed the most extreme views (whichmeant more to him than mere words), but secretly took a delight in art, poetry, beauty in all its manifestations, and in his inspired momentswrote verses. It is true that he carefully hid the copy-book in whichthey were written, and none of his St. Petersburg friends, withthe exception of Paklin, and he only by his peculiar intuitiveness, suspected its existence. Nothing hurt or offended Nejdanov more than thesmallest allusion to his poetry, which he regarded as an unpardonableweakness in himself. His Swiss schoolmaster had taught him a great manythings, and he was not afraid of hard work. He applied himself readilyand zealously, but did not work consecutively. All his friends lovedhim. They were attracted by his natural sense of justice, his kindness, and his pure-mindedness, but Nejdanov was not born under a lucky star, and did not find life an easy matter. He was fully conscious of thisfact and felt utterly lonely in spite of the untiring devotion of hisfriends. 

He stood meditating at the window. Sad, oppressive thoughts rose up inhis mind one after another about the prospective journey, the new andunexpected change that was coming into his life. He had no regrets atthe thought of leaving St. Petersburg, as he would leave nothing behindthat was especially dear to him, and he knew that he would be back inthe autumn; but he was pervaded by the spirit of indecision, and aninvoluntary melancholy came over him. 

"A fine tutor I shall make!" flashed across his mind. "Am I cut out fora schoolmaster?" He was ready to reproach himself for having undertakenthe duties of a tutor, and would have been unjust in doing so. Nejdanovwas sufficiently cultured, and, in spite of his uncertain temperament, children grew readily fond of him and he of them. His depression wasdue to that feeling which takes possession of one before any changeof place, a feeling experienced by all melancholy, dreaming people andunknown to those of energetic, sanguine temperaments, who always rejoiceat any break in the humdrum of their daily existence, and welcome achange of abode with pleasure. Nejdanov was so lost in his meditationsthat his thoughts began quite unconsciously to take the form of words. His wandering sensations began to arrange themselves into measuredcadences. 

"Damn!" he exclaimed aloud. "I'm wandering off into poetry!" He shookhimself and turned away from the window. He caught sight of Paklin'sten-rouble note, put it in his pocket, and began pacing up and down theroom. 

"I must get some money in advance, " he thought to himself. "What a goodthing this gentleman suggested it. A hundred roubles. .. A hundred frommy brothers--their excellencies. .. . I want fifty to pay my debts, fiftyor seventy for the journey--and the rest Ostrodumov can have. Then thereare Paklin's ten roubles in addition, and I dare say I can get somethingfrom Merkulov--"

In the midst of these calculations the rhythmic cadences began toreassert themselves. He stood still, as if rooted to the spot, withfixed gaze. After a while his hands involuntarily found their way to thetable drawer, from which he pulled out a much-used copy-book. He droppedinto a chair with the same fixed look, humming softly to himself andevery now and again shaking back his wavy hair, began writing line afterline, sometimes scratching out and rewriting. 

The door leading into the passage opened slightly and Mashurina's headappeared. Nejdanov did not notice her and went on writing. Mashurinastood looking at him intently for some time, shook her head, and drewit back again. Nejdanov sat up straight, and suddenly catching sight ofher, exclaimed with some annoyance: "Oh, is that you?" and thrust thecopy-book into the drawer again. 

Mashurina came into the room with a firm step. 

"Ostrodumov asked me to come, " she began deliberately. 

"He would like to know when we can have the money. If you could get ittoday, we could start this evening. "

"I can't get it today, " Nejdanov said with a frown. "Please cometomorrow. "

"At what time?"

"Two o'clock. "

"Very well. "

Mashurina was silent for a while and then extended her hand. 

"I am afraid I interrupted you. I am so sorry. But then. .. I am goingaway. .. Who knows if we shall ever meet again. .. I wanted to say goodbyeto you. "

Nejdanov pressed her cold, red fingers. "You know the man who was heretoday, " he began. "I have come to terms with him, and am going with him. His place is down in the province of S. , not far from the town itself. "

A glad smile lit up Mashurina's face. 

"Near S. Did you say? Then we may see each other again perhaps. Theymight send us there!" Mashurina sighed. "Oh, Alexai Dmitritch--"

"What is it?" Nejdanov asked. 

Mashurina looked intense. 

"Oh, nothing. Goodbye. It's nothing. " She squeezed Nejdanov's hand asecond time and went out. 

"There is not a soul in St. Petersburg who is so attached to me asthis eccentric person, " he thought. "I wish she had not interrupted methough. However, I suppose it's for the best. "

The next morning Nejdanov called at Sipiagin's townhouse and was showninto a magnificent study, furnished in a rather severe style, butquite in keeping with the dignity of a statesman of liberal views. Thegentleman himself was sitting before an enormous bureau, piled upwith all sorts of useless papers, arrayed in the strictest order, andnumerous ivory paper-knives, which had never been known to cut anything. During the space of an hour Nejdanov listened to the wise, courteous, patronising speeches of his host, received a hundred roubles, and tendays later was leaning back in the plush seat of a reserved first-classcompartment, side by side with this same wise, liberal politician, beingborne along to Moscow on the jolting lines of the Nikolaevsky Railway. 

V

IN the drawing room of a large stone house with a Greek front--built inthe twenties of the present century by Sipiagin's father, awell-known landowner, who was distinguished by the free use of hisfists--Sipiagin's wife, Valentina Mihailovna, a very beautiful woman, having been informed by telegram of her husband's arrival, sat expectinghim every moment. The room was decorated in the best modern taste. Everything in it was charming and inviting, from the wails hung invariegated cretonne and beautiful curtains, to the various porcelain, bronze, and crystal knickknacks arranged upon the tables and cabinets;the whole blending together into a subdued harmony and brightened bythe rays of the May sun, which was streaming in through the wide-openwindows. The still air, laden with the scent of lily-of-the-valley(large bunches of these beautiful spring flowers were placed about theroom), was stirred from time to time by a slight breeze from without, blowing gently over the richly grown garden. 

What a charming picture! And the mistress herself, Valentina MihailovnaSipiagina, put the finishing touch to it, gave it meaning and life. Shewas a tall woman of about thirty, with dark brown hair, a fresh darkcomplexion, resembling the Sistine Madonna, with wonderfully deep, velvety eyes. Her pale lips were somewhat too full, her shouldersperhaps too square, her hands rather too large, but, for all that, anyone seeing her as she flitted gracefully about the drawing room, bending from her slender waist to sniff at the flowers with a smile onher lips, or arranging some Chinese vase, or quickly readjusting herglossy hair before the looking-glass, half-closing her wonderful eyes, anyone would have declared that there could not be a more fascinatingcreature. 

A pretty curly-haired boy of about nine burst into the room and stoppedsuddenly on catching sight of her. He was dressed in a Highland costume, his legs bare, and was very much befrizzled and pomaded. 

"What do you want, Kolia?" Valentina Mihailovna asked. Her voice was assoft and velvety as her eyes. 

"Mamma, " the boy began in confusion, "auntie sent me to get somelilies-of-the-valley for her room. .. . She hasn't got any--"

Valentina Mihailovna put her hand under her little boy's chin and raisedhis pomaded head. 

"Tell auntie that she can send to the gardener for flowers. These aremine. I don't want them to be touched. Tell her that I don't like toupset my arrangements. Can you repeat what I said?"

"Yes, I can, " the boy whispered. 

"Well, repeat it then. "

"I will say. .. I will say. .. That you don't want. "

Valentina Mihailovna laughed, and her laugh, too, was soft. 

"I see that one can't give you messages as yet. But never mind, tell heranything you like. "

The boy hastily kissed his mother's hand, adorned with rings, and rushedout of the room. 

Valentina Mihailovna looked after him, sighed, walked up to a goldenwire cage, on one side of which a green parrot was carefully holdingon with its beak and claws. She teased it a little with the tip of herfinger, then dropped on to a narrow couch, and picking up a number ofthe "Revue des Deux Mondes" from a round carved table, began turningover its pages. 

A respectful cough made her look round. A handsome servant in livery anda white cravat was standing by the door. 

"What do you want, Agafon?" she asked in the same soft voice. 

"Simion Petrovitch Kollomietzev is here. Shall I show him in?"

"Certainly. And tell Mariana Vikentievna to come to the drawing room. "

Valentina Mihailovna threw the "Revue des Deux Mondes" on the table, raised her eyes upwards as if thinking--a pose which suited herextremely. 

From the languid, though free and easy, way in which Simion PetrovitchKollomietzev, a young man of thirty-two, entered the room; from the wayin which he brightened suddenly, bowed slightly to one side, and drewhimself up again gracefully; from the manner in which he spoke, nottoo harshly, nor too gently; from the respectful way in which he kissedValentina Mihailovna's hand, one could see that the new-comer was nota mere provincial, an ordinary rich country neighbour, but a St. Petersburg grandee of the highest society. He was dressed in the latestEnglish fashion. A corner of the coloured border of his white cambricpocket handkerchief peeped out of the breast pocket of his tweed coat, a monocle dangled on a wide black ribbon, the pale tint of his suedegloves matched his grey checked trousers. He was clean shaven, and hishair was closely cropped. His features were somewhat effeminate, withhis large eyes, set close together, his small flat nose, full red lips, betokening the amiable disposition of a well-bred nobleman. He waseffusion itself, but very easily turned spiteful, and even vulgar, whenany one dared to annoy him, or to upset his religious, conservative, or patriotic principles. Then he became merciless. All his elegancevanished like smoke, his soft eyes assumed a cruel expression, uglywords would flow from his beautiful mouth, and he usually got the bestof an argument by appealing to the authorities. 

His family had once been simple gardeners. His great-grandfatherwas called Kolomientzov after the place in which he was born; hisgrandfather used to sign himself Kolomietzev; his father added another Iand wrote himself Kollomietzev, and finally Simion Petrovitch consideredhimself to be an aristocrat of the bluest blood, with pretensions tohaving descended from the well-known Barons von Gallenmeier, one of whomhad been a field-marshal in the Thirty Years' War. Simion Petrovitch wasa chamberlain, and served in the ministerial court. His patriotism hadprevented him from entering the diplomatic service, for which he was cutout by his personal appearance, education, knowledge of the world, andhis success with women. Mais quitter la Russie? Jamais! Kollomietzevwas rich and had a great many influential friends. He passed for apromising, reliable young man un peu feodal dans ses opinions, as PrinceB. Said of him, and Prince B. Was one of the leading lights in St. Petersburg official circles. Kollomietzev had come away on a two months'leave to look after his estate, that is, to threaten and oppress hispeasants a little more. "You can't get on without that!" he used to say. 

"I thought that your husband would have been here by now, " he began, rocking himself from one leg to the other. He suddenly drew himself upand looked down sideways--a very dignified pose. 

Valentina Mihailovna made a grimace. 

"Would you not have come otherwise?"

Kollomietzev drew back a pace, horrified at the imputation. 

"Valentina Mihailovna!" he exclaimed. "How can you possibly say such athing?"

"Well, never mind. Sit down. My husband will be here soon. I have sentthe carriage to the station to meet him. If you wait a little, you willbe rewarded by seeing him. What time is it?

"Half-past two, " Kollomietzev replied, taking a large gold enamelledwatch out of his waistcoat pocket and showing it to ValentinaMihailovna. "Have you seen this watch? A present from Michael, theServian Prince Obrenovitch. Look, here are his initials. We are greatfriends--go out hunting a lot together. Such a splendid fellow, with aniron hand, just what an administrator ought to be. He will never allowhimself to be made a fool of. Not he! Oh dear no!"

Kollomietzev dropped into an armchair, crossed his legs, and beganleisurely pulling off his left glove. 

"We are badly in need of such a man as Michael in our province here, " heremarked. 

"Why? Are you dissatisfied with things here?"

Kollomietzev made a wry face. 

"It's this abominable county council! What earthly use is it? Onlyweakens the government and sets people thinking the wrong way. " (Hegesticulated with his left hand, freed from the pressure of the glove. )"And arouses false hopes. " (Kollomietzev blew on his hand. ) "I havealready mentioned this in St. Petersburg, mais bah! They won't listen tome. Even your husband--but then he is known to be a confirmed liberal!"

Valentina Mihailovna sat up straight. 

"What do I hear? You opposed to the government, Monsieur Kollomietzev?

"I--not in the least! Never! What an idea! Mais j'ai mon franc parler. Ioccasionally allow myself to criticise, but am always obedient. "

"And I, on the contrary, never criticise and am never obedient. "

"Ah! Mais c'est un mot! Do let me repeat it to my friend Ladislas. Voussavez, he is writing a society novel, read me some of it. Charming! Nousaurons enfin le grand monde russe peint par lui-meme. "

"Where is it to be published?

"In the 'Russian Messenger', of course. It is our 'Revue des DeuxMondes'. I see you take it, by the way. "

"Yes, but I think it rather dull of late. "

"Perhaps, perhaps it is. 'The Russian Messenger', too, has also gone offa bit, " using a colloquial expression. 

Kollomietzev laughed. It amused him to have said "gone off a bit. " "Maisc'est un journal qui se respecte, " he continued, "and that is the mainthing. I am sorry to say that I interest myself very little in Russianliterature nowadays. It has grown so horribly vulgar. A cook is nowmade the heroine of a novel. A mere cook, parole d'honneur! Of course, I shall read Ladislas' novel. Il y aura le petit mot pour rire, and hewrites with a purpose! He will completely crush the nihilists, and Iquite agree with him. His ideas sont tres correctes. "

"That is more than can be said of his past, " Valentina Mihailovnaremarked. 

"Ah! jeton une voile sur les erreurs de sa jeunesse!" Kollomietzevexclaimed, pulling off his other glove. 

Valentina Mihailovna half-closed her exquisite eyes and looked at himcoquettishly. 

"Simion Petrovitch!" she exclaimed, "why do you use so many French wordswhen speaking Russian? It seems to me rather old-fashioned, if you willexcuse my saying so. "

"But, my dear lady, not everyone is such a master of our native tongueas you are, for instance. I have a very great respect for theRussian language. There is nothing like it for giving commands or forgovernmental purposes. I like to keep it pure and uncorrupted by otherlanguages and bow before Karamzin; but as for an everyday language, howcan one use Russian? For instance, how would you say, in Russian, detout a l'heure, c'est un mot? You could not possibly say 'this is aword, ' could you?"

"You might say 'a happy expression. '"

Kollomietzev laughed. 

"A happy expression! My dear Valentina Mihailovna. Don't you feel thatit savours of the schoolroom; that all the salt has gone out of it?

"I am afraid you will not convince me. I wonder where Mariana is?" Sherang the bell and a servant entered. 

"I asked to have Mariana Vikentievna sent here. Has she not been told?"

The servant had scarcely time to reply when a young girl appeared behindhim in the doorway. She had on a loose dark blouse, and her hair wascut short. It was Mariana Vikentievna Sinitska, Sipiagin's niece on themother's side. 

VI

"I am sorry, Valentina Mihailovna, " Mariana said, drawing near to her, "I was busy and could not get away. "

She bowed to Kollomietzev and withdrew into a corner, where she sat downon a little stool near the parrot, who began flapping its wings as soonas it caught sight of her. 

"Why so far away, Mariana?" Valentina Mihailovna asked, looking afterher. "Do you want to be near your little friend? Just think, SimionPetrovitch, " she said, turning to Kollomietzev, "our parrot has simplyfallen in love with Mariana!"

"I don't wonder at it!"

"But he simply can't bear me!"

"How extraordinary! Perhaps you tease him. "

"Oh, no, I never tease him. On the contrary, I feed him with sugar. But he won't take anything out of my hand. It is a case of sympathy andantipathy. "

Mariana looked sternly at Valentina Mihailovna and Valentina Mihailovnalooked at her. These two women did not love one another. 

Compared to her aunt Mariana seemed plain. She had a round face, a largeaquiline nose, big bright grey eyes, fine eyebrows, and thin lips. Her thick brown hair was cut short; she seemed retiring, but there wassomething strong and daring, impetuous and passionate, in the whole ofher personality. She had tiny little hands and feet, and her healthy, lithesome little figure reminded one of a Florentine statuette of thesixteenth century. Her movements were free and graceful. 

Mariana's position in the Sipiagin's house was a very difficult one. Herfather, a brilliant man of Polish extraction, who had attained the rankof general, was discovered to have embezzled large state funds. Hewas tried and convicted, deprived of his rank, nobility, and exiledto Siberia. After some time he was pardoned and returned, but was tooutterly crushed to begin life anew, and died in extreme poverty. Hiswife, Sipiagin's sister, did not survive the shock of the disgrace andher husband's death, and died soon after. Uncle Sipiagin gave a home totheir only child, Mariana. She loathed her life of dependence and longedfor freedom with all the force of her upright soul. There was a constantinner battle between her and her aunt. Valentina Mihailovna looked uponher as a nihilist and freethinker, and Mariana detested her aunt asan unconscious tyrant. She held aloof from her uncle and, indeed, fromeveryone else in the house. She held aloof, but was not afraid of them. She was not timid by nature. 

"Antipathy is a strange thing, " Kollomietzev repeated. "Everybody knowsthat I am a deeply religious man, orthodox in the fullest sense of theword, but the sight of a priest's flowing locks drives me nearly mad. Itmakes me boil over with rage. "

"I believe hair in general has an irritating effect upon you, SimionPetrovitch, " Mariana remarked. "I feel sure you can't bear to see it cutshort like mine. "

Valentina Mihailovna lifted her eyebrows slowly, then dropped her head, as if astonished at the freedom with which modern young girls enteredinto conversation. Kollomietzev smiled condescendingly. 

"Of course, " he said, "I can't help feeling sorry for beautiful curlssuch as yours, Mariana Vikentievna, falling under the merciless snip ofa pair of scissors, but it doesn't arouse antipathy in me. In any case, your example might even. .. Even . .. Convert me!"

Kollomietzev could not think of a Russian word, and did not like using aFrench one, after what his hostess had said. 

"Thank heaven, " Valentina Mihailovna remarked, "Mariana does not wearglasses and has not yet discarded collars and cuffs; but, unfortunately, she studies natural history, and is even interested in the womanquestion. Isn't that so, Mariana?"

This was evidently said to make Mariana feel uncomfortable, but Mariana, however, did not feel uncomfortable. 

"Yes, auntie, " she replied, "I read everything I can get hold of on thesubject. I am trying to understand the woman question. "

"There is youth for you!" Valentina Mihailovna exclaimed, turning toKollomietzev. "Now you and I are not at all interested in that sort ofthing, are we?"

Kollomietzev smiled good-naturedly; he could not help entering into theplayful mood of his amiable hostess. 

"Mariana Vikentievna, " he began, "is still full of the ideals. . . Theromanticism of youth. .. Which. .. In time--"

"Heaven, I was unjust to myself, " Valentina Mihailovna interrupted him;"I am also interested in these questions. I am not quite an old ladyyet. "

"Of course. So am I in a way, " Kollomietzev put in hastily. "Only Iwould forbid such things being talked about!"

"Forbid them being talked about?" Mariana asked in astonishment. 

"Yes! I would say to the public, 'Interest yourselves in these things asmuch as you like, but talk about them. .. Shhh. .. '" He layed his fingeron his lips. 

"I would, at any rate, forbid speaking through the press under anyconditions!"

Valentina Mihailovna laughed. 

"What? Would you have a commission appointed by the ministers forsettling these questions?

"Why not? Don't you think we could do it better than these ignorant, hungry loafers who know nothing and imagine themselves to be men ofgenius? We could appoint Boris Andraevitch as president. "

Valentina Mihailovna laughed louder still. 

"You had better take care, Boris Andraevitch is sometimes such aJacobin--"

"Jacko, jacko, jacko, " the parrot screamed. Valentina Mihailovna wavedher handkerchief at him. "Don't interrupt an intelligent conversation!Mariana, do teach him manners!"

Mariana turned to the cage and began stroking the parrot's neck with herfinger; the parrot stretched towards her. 

"Yes, " Valentina Mihailovna continued, "Boris Andraevitch astonishes me, too, sometimes. There is a certain strain in him. .. A certain strain. .. Of the tribune. "

"C'est parce qu'il est orateur!" Kollomietzev exclaimed enthusiasticallyin French. "Your husband is a marvellous orator and is accustomed tosuccess. .. Ses propres paroles le grisent . .. And then his desire forpopularity. By the way, he is rather annoyed just now, is he not? Ilboude? Eh?"

Valentina Mihailovna looked at Mariana. 

"I haven't noticed it, " she said after a pause. "Yes, " Kollomietzevcontinued pensively, "he was rather overlooked at Easter. "

Valentina Mihailovna indicated Mariana with her eyes. Kollomietzevsmiled and screwed up his eyes, conveying to her that he understood. "Mariana Vikentievna, " he exclaimed suddenly, in an unnecessarily loudtone of voice, "do you intend teaching at the school again this year?"

Mariana turned round from the cage. 

"Are you interested to know, Simion Petrovitch?"

"Certainly. I am very much interested. "

"Would you forbid it?"

"I would forbid nihilists even so much as to think of schools. I wouldput all schools into the hands of the clergy, and with an eye on them Iwouldn't mind running one myself!"

"Really! I haven't the slightest idea what I shall do this year. Lastyear things were not at all successful. Besides, how can you get aschool together in the summer?"

Mariana blushed deeply all the time she was speaking, as if it cost hersome effort. She was still very self-conscious. 

"Are you not sufficiently prepared?" Valentina Mihailovna askedsarcastically. 

"Perhaps not. "

"Heavens!" Kollomietzev exclaimed. "What do I hear? Oh ye gods! Ispreparation necessary to teach peasants the alphabet?"

At this moment Kolia ran into the drawing room shouting "Mamma! mamma!Papa has come!" And after him, waddling on her stout little legs, appeared an old grey-haired lady in a cap and yellow shawl, and alsoannounced that Boris had come. 

This lady was Sipiagin's aunt, and was called Anna Zaharovna. Everyonein the drawing room rushed out into the hall, down the stairs, and onto the steps of the portico. A long avenue of chipped yews ran straightfrom these steps to the high road--a carriage and four was alreadyrolling up the avenue straight towards them. Valentina Mihailovna, standing in front, waved her pocket handkerchief, Kolia shrieked withdelight, the coachman adroitly pulled up the steaming horses, a footmancame down headlong from the box and almost pulled the carriage dooroff its hinges in his effort to open it--and then, with a condescendingsmile on his lips, in his eyes, over the whole of his face, BorisAndraevitch, with one graceful gesture of the shoulders, dropped hiscloak and sprang to the ground. Valentina Mihailovna gracefully threwher arms round his neck and they kissed three times. Kolia stampedhis little feet and pulled at his father's coat from behind, butBoris Andraevitch first kissed Anna Zaharovna, quickly threw off hisuncomfortable, ugly Scotch cap, greeted Mariana and Kollomietzev, whohad also come out (he gave Kollomietzev a hearty shake of the hand inthe English fashion), and then turned to his little son, lifted himunder the arms, and kissed him. 

During this scene Nejdanov half guiltily scrambled out of the carriageand, without removing his cap, stood quietly near the front wheel, looking out from under his eyebrows. Valentina Mihailovna, whenembracing her husband, had cast a penetrating look over his shoulder atthis new figure. Sipiagin had informed her that he was bringing a tutor. 

Everyone continued exchanging greetings and shaking hands with thenewly-arrived host as they all moved up the broad stairs, lined oneither side with the principal men and maid servants. They did not comeforward to kiss the master's hand (an Asiatic custom they had abandonedlong ago), but bowed respectfully. Sipiagin responded to theirsalutations with a slight movement of the nose and eyebrows, rather thanan inclination of the head. 

Nejdanov followed the stream up the wide stairs. As soon as they reachedthe hall, Sipiagin, who had been searching for Nejdanov with his eyes, introduced him to his wife, Anna Zaharovna, and Mariana, and said toKolia, "This is your tutor. Mind you do as he tells you. Give him yourhand. " Kolia extended his hand timidly, stared at him fixedly, butfinding nothing particularly interesting about his tutor, turned to his"papa" again. Nejdanov felt uncomfortable, just as he had done at thetheatre. He wore an old shabby coat, and his face and hands were coveredwith dust from the journey. Valentina Mihailovna said something kindlyto him, but he did not quite catch what it was and did not reply. He noticed that she was very bright, and clung to her husbandaffectionately. He did not like Kolia's befrizzled and pomaded head, andwhen his eye fell on Kollomietzev, thought, "What a sleek individual. " Hepaid no attention to the others. Sipiagin turned his head once or twicein a dignified manner, as if looking round at his worldly belongings, apose that set off to perfection his long drooping whiskers and somewhatsmall round neck. Then he shouted to one of the servants in a loudresonant voice, not at all husky from the journey, "Ivan! Take thisgentleman to the green room and see to his luggage afterwards!" He thentold Nejdanov that he could change and rest awhile, and that dinnerwould be served at five o'clock. Nejdanov bowed and followed Ivan to the"green" room, which was situated on the second floor. 

The whole company went into the drawing room. The host was welcomed allover again. An old blind nurse appeared and made him a courtesy. Out ofconsideration for her years, Sipiagin gave her his hand to kiss. Hethen begged Kollomietzev to excuse him, and retired to his own roomaccompanied by his wife. 

VII

The room into which the servant conducted Nejdanov was beautifully neatand spacious, with wide-open windows looking on to the garden. A gentlebreeze stirred the white curtains, blowing them out high like sailsand letting them fall again. Golden reflections glided lightly over theceiling; the whole room was filled with the moist freshness of spring. Nejdanov dismissed the servant, unpacked his trunk, washed, and changed. The journey had thoroughly exhausted him. The constant presence of astranger during the last two days, the many fruitless discussions, hadcompletely upset his nerves. A certain bitterness, which was neitherboredom nor anger, accumulated mysteriously in the depths of his being. He was annoyed with himself for his lack of courage, but his heartached. He went up to the window and looked out into the garden. It wasan old-fashioned garden, with rich dark soil, such as one rarely seesaround Moscow, laid out on the slope of a hill into four separate parts. In front of the house there was a flower garden, with straight gravelpaths, groups of acacias and lilac, and round flower beds. To the left, past the stable yard, as far down as the barn, there was an orchard, thickly planted with apples, pears, plums, currants, and raspberries. Beyond the flower garden, in front of the house, there was a largesquare walk, thickly interlaced with lime trees. To the right, the viewwas shut out by an avenue of silver poplars; a glimpse of an orangerycould be seen through a group of weeping willows. The whole garden wasclothed in its first green leaves; the loud buzz of summer insectswas not yet heard; the leaves rustled gently, chaffinches twitteredeverywhere; two doves sat cooing on a tree; the note of a solitarycuckoo was heard first in one place, then in another; the friendlycawing of rooks was carried from the distance beyond the mill pond, sounding like the creaking of innumerable cart wheels. Light cloudsfloated dreamily over this gentle stillness, spreading themselves outlike the breasts of some huge, lazy birds. 

Nejdanov gazed and listened, drinking in the cool air throughhalf-parted lips. 

His depression left him and a wonderful calmness entered his soul. 

Meanwhile he was being discussed in the bedroom below. Sipiagin wastelling his wife how he had met him, what Prince G. Had said of him, andthe gist of their talks on the journey. 

"A clever chap!" he repeated, "and well educated, too. It's true he's arevolutionist, but what does it matter? These people are ambitious, atany rate. As for Kolia, he is too young to be spoiled by any of thisnonsense. "

Valentina Mihailovna listened to her husband affectionately; an amusedsmile played on her lips, as if he were telling her of some naughtyamusing prank. It was pleasant to her to think that her seigneur amaitre, such a respectable man, of important position, could be asmischievous as a boy of twenty. Standing before the looking-glass in asnow-white shirt and blue silk braces, Sipiagin was brushing his hairin the English fashion with two brushes, while Valentina Mihailovna, herfeet tucked under her, was sitting on a narrow Turkish couch, tellinghim various news about the house, the paper mill, which, alas, was notgoing well, as was to be expected; about the possibilities of changingthe cook, about the church, of which the plaster had come off; aboutMariana, Kollomietzev. .. 

Between husband and wife there existed the fullest confidence and goodunderstanding; they certainly lived in "love and harmony, " as peopleused to say in olden days. When Sipiagin, after finishing his toilet, asked chivalrously for his wife's hand and she gave him both, andwatched him with an affectionate pride as he kissed them in turn, thefeeling expressed in their faces was good and true, although in her itshone out of a pair of eyes worthy of Raphael, and in him out of theordinary eyes of a mere official. 

On the stroke of five Nejdanov went down to dinner, which was announcedby a Chinese gong, not by a bell. The whole company was alreadyassembled in the dining room. Sipiagin welcomed him again from behindhis high cravat, and showed him to a place between Anna Zaharovna andKolia. Anna Zaharovna was an old maid, a sister of Sipiagin's father;she exhaled a smell of camphor, like a garment that had been put awayfor a long time, and had a nervous, dejected look. She had acted asKolia's nurse or governess, and her wrinkled face expressed displeasurewhen Nejdanov sat down between her and her charge. Kolia looked sidewaysat his new neighbour; the intelligent boy soon saw that his tutor wasshy and uncomfortable, that he did not raise his eyes, and scarcely ateanything. This pleased Kolia, who had been afraid that his tutor wouldbe cross and severe. Valentina Mihailovna also watched Nejdanov. 

"He looks like a student, " she thought to herself. "He's not accustomedto society, but has a very interesting face, and the colour of his hairis like that of the apostle whose hair the old Italian masters alwayspainted red--and his hands are clean!" Indeed, everybody at the tablestared at Nejdanov, but they had mercy on him, and left him in peacefor the time being. He was conscious of this, and was pleased and angryabout it at the same time. 

Sipiagin and Kollomietzev carried on the conversation. They talked aboutthe county council, the governor, the highway tax, the peasants buyingout the land, about mutual Moscow and St. Petersburg acquaintances, Katkov's lyceum, which was just coming into fashion, about thedifficulty of getting labour, penalties, and damage caused by cattle, even of Bismarck, the war of 1866, and Napoleon III. , whom Kollomietzevcalled a hero. Kollomietzev gave vent to the most retrograde opinions, going so far as to propose, in jest it is true, a toast given by acertain friend of his on a names-day banquet, "I drink to the onlyprinciple I acknowledge, the whip and Roedeger!"

Valentina Mihailovna frowned, and remarked that it was de tres mauvaisgout. 

Sipiagin, on the contrary, expressed the most liberal views, refutedKollomietzev's arguments politely, though with a certain amount ofdisdain, and even chaffed him a little. 

"Your terror of emancipation, my dear Simion Petrovitch, " he said, "putsme in mind of our much respected friend, Alexai Ivanovitch Tveritinov, and the petition he sent in, in the year 1860. He insisted on readingit in every drawing room in St. Petersburg. There was one rather goodsentence in it about our liberated serf, who was to march over the faceof the fatherland bearing a torch in his hand. You should have seen ourdear Alexai Ivanovitch, blowing out his cheeks and blinking his littleeyes, pronounce in his babyish voice, 'T-torch! t-torch! Will march witha t-torch!' Well, the emancipation is now an established fact, but whereis the peasant with the torch?

"Tveritinov was only slightly wrong, " Kollomietzev said solemnly. "Notthe peasants will march with the torch, but others. "

At the words, Nejdanov, who until then had scarcely noticed Mariana, whosat a little to one side, exchanged glances with her, and instantly feltthat this solemn girl and he were of the same convictions, of the samestamp. She had made no impression on him whatever when Sipiaginhad introduced them; then why did he exchange glances with her inparticular? He wondered if it was not disgraceful to sit and listento such views without protesting and by reason of his silence lettingothers think that he shared them. Nejdanov looked at Mariana a secondtime, and her eyes seemed to say, "Wait a while. .. The time is not ripe. It isn't worth it. .. Later on. .. There is plenty of time in store. "

He was happy to think that she understood him, and began following theconversation again. Valentina Mihailovna supported her husband, and was, if anything, even more radical in her expressions than he. She could notunderstand, "simply could not un-der-stand, how an educated young mancould hold such antiquated views. "

"However, " she added, "I am convinced that you only say these things forthe sake of argument. And you, Alexai Dmitritch, " she added to Nejdanov, with a smile (he wondered how she had learned his Christian name andhis father's name), "I know, do not share Simion Petrovitch's fears; myhusband told me about your talks on the journey. "

Nejdanov blushed, bent over his plate, and mumbled something; he did notfeel shy, but was simply unaccustomed to conversing with such brilliantpersonages. Madame Sipiagin continued smiling to him; her husband noddedhis head patronisingly. Kollomietzev stuck his monocle between hiseyebrow and nose and stared at the student who dared not to share his"fears. " But it was difficult to embarrass Nejdanov in this way; on thecontrary, he instantly sat up straight, and in his turn fixed hisgaze on the fashionable official. Just as instinctively as he hadfelt Mariana to be a comrade, so he felt Kollomietzev to be an enemy!Kollomietzev felt it too; he removed his monocle, turned away, andtried to laugh carelessly--but it did not come off somehow. Only AnnaZaharovna, who secretly worshipped him, was on his side, and became evenangrier than before with the unwelcome neighbour separating her fromKolia. 

Soon after this dinner came to an end. The company went out on theterrace to drink coffee. Sipiagin and Kollomietzev lit up cigars. Sipiagin offered Nejdanov a regalia, but the latter refused. 

"Why, of course!" Sipiagin exclaimed; "I've forgotten that you onlysmoke your own particular cigarettes!

"A curious taste!" Kollomietzev muttered between his teeth. 

Nejdanov very nearly burst out, "I know the difference between a regaliaand a cigarette quite well, but I don't want to be under an obligationto anyone!" but he contained himself and held his peace. He put downthis second piece of insolence to his enemy's account. 

"Mariana!" Madame Sipiagin suddenly called, "don't be on ceremony withour new friend. .. Smoke your cigarette if you like. All the more so, as I hear, " she added, turning to Nejdanov, "that among you all youngladies smoke. "

"Yes, " Nejdanov remarked dryly. This was the first remark he had made toMadame Sipiagina. 

"I don't smoke, " she continued, screwing up her velvety eyescaressingly. "I suppose I am behind the times. "

Mariana slowly and carefully took out a cigarette, a box of matches, and began to smoke, as if on purpose to spite her aunt. Nejdanov took alight from Mariana and also began smoking. 

It was a beautiful evening. Kolia and Anna Zaharovna went into thegarden; the others remained for some time longer on the terrace enjoyingthe fresh air. The conversation was very lively. Kollomietzev condemnedmodern literature, and on this subject, too, Sipiagin showed himselfa liberal. He insisted on the utter freedom and independence ofliterature, pointed out its uses, instanced Chateaubriand, whom theEmperor Alexander Pavlitch had invested with the order of St. Andrew!Nejdanov did not take part in the discussion; Madame Sipiagina watchedhim with an expression of approval and surprise at his modesty. 

They all went in to drink tea in the drawing room. 

"Alexai Dmitritch, " Sipiagin said to Nejdanov, "we are addicted to thebad habit of playing cards in the evening, and even play a forbiddengame, stukushka. .. . I won't ask you to join us, but perhaps Mariana willbe good enough to play you something on the piano. You like music, Ihope. " And without waiting for an answer Sipiagin took up a pack ofcards. Mariana sat down at the piano and played, rather indifferently, several of Mendelssohn's "Songs Without Words. " Charmant! Charmant! queltouché! Kollomietzev called out from the other end of the room, butthe exclamation was only due to politeness, and Nejdanov, in spite ofSipiagin's remark, showed no passion for music. 

Meanwhile Sipiagin, his wife, Kollomietzev, and Anna Zaharovna satdown to cards. Kolia came to say goodnight, and, receiving his parents'blessing and a large glass of milk instead of tea, went off to bed. Hisfather called after him to inform him that tomorrow he was to begin hislessons with Alexai Dmitritch. A little later, seeing Nejdanov wanderingaimlessly about the room and turning over the photographic albums, apparently without any interest, Sipiagin begged him not to be onceremony and retire if he wished, as he was probably tired after thejourney, and to remember that the ruling principle of their house wasliberty. 

Nejdanov took advantage of this and bowing to all present went out. Inthe doorway he knocked against Mariana, and, looking into her eyes, wasconvinced a second time that they would be comrades, although sheshowed no sign of pleasure at seeing him, but, on the contrary, frownedheavily. 

When he went in, his room was filled with a sweet freshness; the windowshad stood wide open all day. In the garden, opposite his window, anightingale was trilling out its sweet song; the evening sky becamecovered with the warm glow of the rising moon behind the rounded tops ofthe lime trees. Nejdanov lit a candle; a grey moth fluttered in from thedark garden straight to the flame; she circled round it, whilst a gentlebreeze from without blew on them both, disturbing the yellow-bluishflame of the candle. 

"How strange!" Nejdanov thought, lying in bed; "they seem good, liberal-minded people, even humane. .. But I feel so troubled in myheart. This chamberlain. Kollomietzev. .. . However, morning is wiser thanevening. .. It's no good being sentimental. "

At this moment the watchman knocked loudly with his stick and calledout, "I say there--"

"Take care, " answered another doleful voice. "Fugh! Heavens! It's likebeing in prison!" Nejdanov exclaimed. 

VIII

NEJDANOV awoke early and, without waiting for a servant, dressed andwent out into the garden. It was very large and beautiful this garden, and well kept. Hired labourers were scraping the paths with theirspades, through the bright green shrubs a glimpse of kerchiefs couldbe seen on the heads of the peasant girls armed with rakes. Nejdanovwandered down to the pond; the early morning mist had already lifted, only a few curves in its banks still remained in obscurity. The sun, notyet far above the horizon, threw a rosy light over the steely silkinessof its broad surface. Five carpenters were busy about the raft, anewly-painted boat was lightly rocking from side to side, creating agentle ripple over the water. The men rarely spoke, and then in somewhatpreoccupied tones. Everything was submerged in the morning stillness, and everyone was occupied with the morning work; the whole gave one afeeling of order and regularity of everyday life. Suddenly, at the otherend of the avenue, Nejdanov got a vision of the very incarnation oforder and regularity--Sipiagin himself. 

He wore a brown coat, something like a dressing gown, and a checkeredcap; he was leaning on an English bamboo cane, and his newly-shaven faceshone with satisfaction; he was on the round of inspecting his estate. Sipiagin greeted Nejdanov kindly. 

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "I see you are one of the early birds!" (Heevidently wanted to express his approval by this old saying, which wasa little out of place, of the fact that Nejdanov, like himself, did notlike lying in bed long. ) "At eight o'clock we all take tea in the diningroom, and we usually breakfast at twelve. I should like you to giveKolia his first lesson in Russian grammar at ten o'clock, and a lessonin history at two. I don't want him to have any lessons tomorrow, as itwill be his name-day, but I would like you to begin today. "

Nejdanov bowed his head, and Sipiagin took leave of him in the Frenchfashion, quickly lifting his hand several times to his lips and nose, and walked away, whistling and waving his cane energetically, not at alllike an important official and state dignitary, but like a jolly Russiancountry gentleman. 

Until eight o'clock Nejdanov stayed in the garden, enjoying the shadowscast by the old trees, the fresh air, the singing of the birds, untilthe sound of a gong called him to the house. On his entrance he foundthe whole company already assembled in the dining room. ValentinaMihailovna greeted him in a friendly manner; she seemed to himmarvellously beautiful in her morning gown. Mariana looked stern andserious as usual. 

Exactly at ten o'clock Nejdanov gave Kolia his first lesson beforeValentina Mihailovna, who had asked him if she might be present, and satvery quietly the whole time. Kolia proved an intelligent boy; after theinevitable moments of incertitude and discomfort, the lesson wentoff very well, and Valentina Mihailovna was evidently satisfied withNejdanov, and spoke to him several times kindly. He tried to hold aloofa little--but not too much so. Valentina Mihailovna was also present atthe second lesson, this time on Russian history. She announced, witha smile, that in this subject she needed instruction almost as muchas Kolia. She conducted herself just as quietly as she had done at thefirst lesson. 

Between two and five o'clock Nejdanov stayed in his own room writingletters to his St. Petersburg friends. He was neither bored nor indespair; his overstrained nerves had calmed down somewhat. However, theywere set on edge again at dinner, although Kollomietzev was not present, and the kind attention of host and hostess remained unchanged; but itwas this very attention that made Nejdanov angry. To make matters worse, the old maiden lady, Anna Zaharovna, was obviously antagonistic, Marianacontinued serious, and Kolia rather unceremoniously kicked him under thetable. Sipiagin also seemed out of sorts. He was extremely dissatisfiedwith the manager of his paper mill, a German, to whom he paid a largesalary. Sipiagin began by abusing Germans in general, then announcedthat he was somewhat of a Slavophil, though not a fanatic, and mentioneda certain young Russian, by the name of Solomin, who, it was said, had successfully established another mill belonging to a neighbouringmerchant; he was very anxious to meet this Solomin. 

Kollomietzev came in the evening; his own estate was only about tenmiles away from "Arjanov, " the name of Sipiagin's village. There alsocame a certain justice of the peace, a squire, of the kind so admirablydescribed in the two famous lines of Lermontov--

Behind a cravat, frock coat to the heels Moustache, squeaky voice--andheavy glance. 

Another guest arrived, with a dejected look, without a tooth in hishead, but very accurately dressed. After him came the local doctor, avery bad doctor, who was fond of coming out with learned expressions. He assured everyone, for instance, that he liked Kukolnik better thanPushkin because there was a great deal of "protoplasm" about him. Theyall sat down to play cards. Nejdanov retired to his own room, and readand wrote until midnight. 

The following day, the 9th of May, was Kolia's patron-saint's day. 

Although the church was not a quarter of a mile off, the whole householddrove to mass in three open carriages with footmen at the back. Everything was very festive and gorgeous. Sipiagin decorated himselfwith his order, Valentina Mihailovna was dressed in a beautiful palelavender-coloured Parisian gown, and during the service read her prayersout of a tiny little prayer hook bound in red velvet. This little bookwas a matter of great concern among several old peasants, one of whom, unable to contain himself any longer, asked of his neighbour: "What isshe doing? Lord have mercy on us! Is she casting a spell?" The sweetscent of the flowers, which filled the whole church, mingled with thesmell of the peasant's coats, tarred boots and shoes, the whole beingdrowned by the delicious, overpowering scent of incense. 

In the choir the clerks and sacristans tried their very hardest to singwell, and with the help of the men from the factory attempted somethinglike a concert! There was a moment when an almost painful sensation cameover the congregation. The tenor's voice (it belonged to one of the menfrom the factory, who was in the last stages of consumption) rose highabove the rest, and without the slightest restraint trilled out longchromatic flat minor notes; they were terrible these notes! but to stopthem would have meant the whole concert going to pieces. . .. However, the thing went off without any mishap. Father Kiprian, a priest ofthe most patriarchal appearance, dressed in the full vestments of thechurch, delivered his sermon out of a copy-book. Unfortunately, theconscientious father had considered it necessary to introduce the namesof several very wise Assyrian kings, which caused him some trouble inpronunciation. He succeeded in showing a certain amount of learning, butperspired very much in the effort!

Nejdanov, who for a long time had not been inside a church, stood in acorner amidst the peasant women, who kept casting sidelong glances athim in between crossing themselves, bowing piously to the ground, andwiping their babies' noses. But the peasant girls in their new coatsand beaded head-dresses, and the boys in their embroidered shirts, with girdles round their waists, stared intently at the new worshipper, turning their faces straight towards him. .. Nejdanov, too, looked atthem, and many things rose up in his mind. 

After mass, which lasted a very long time--the service of St. Nikolaithe Miraculous is well known to be one of the longest in the OrthodoxChurch--all the clergy, at Sipiagin's invitation, returned to hishouse, and, after going through several additional ceremonies, such assprinkling the room with holy water, they all sat down to an abundantbreakfast, interspersed with the usual congratulations and ratherwearisome talk. The host and hostess, who never took breakfast at suchan early hour, broke the rule on this occasion. Sipiagin even went sofar as to relate an anecdote, quite proper, of course, but neverthelessamusing, in spite of his dignity and red ribbon, and caused FatherKiprian to be filled with gratitude and amazement. To show that he, too, could tell something worth hearing on occasion, the good father relateda conversation he had had with the bishop, when the latter, on a tourround his diocese, had invited all the clergy of the district to comeand see him at the monastery in the town. "He is very severe with us, "Father Kiprian assured everyone. "First he questioned us about ourparish, about our arrangements, and then he began to examine us. .. . He turned to me also: 'What is your church's dedication day?' 'TheTransfiguration of our Lord, ' I replied. 'Do you know the hymn for thatday?' 'I think so. ' 'Sing it. ' 'Thou wert transfigured on the mountain, Christ our Lord, ' I began. 'Stop! Do you know the meaning of theTransfiguration?' 'To be quite brief, ' I replied, 'our Lord wished toshow himself to His disciples in all His glory. ' 'Very well, ' he said, 'here is a little image in memory of me. ' I fell at his feet. 'I thankyou, your Holiness. .. . ' I did not go away from him empty-handed. "

"I have the honour of knowing his Holiness personally, " Sipiagin saidsolemnly. "A most worthy pastor!"

"Most worthy!" Father Kiprian agreed; "only he puts too much faith inthe ecclesiastical superintendents!"

Valentina Mihailovna referred to the peasant school, and spoke ofMariana as the future schoolmistress; the deacon (who had been appointedsupervisor of the school), a man of strong athletic build, with longwaving hair, bearing a faint resemblance to the well-groomed tail of anOrlov race courser, quite forgetting his vocal powers, gave forth such avolume of sound as to confuse himself and frighten everybody else. Soonafter this the clergy took their leave. 

Kolia, in his new coat decorated with golden buttons, was the hero ofthe day. He was given presents, he was congratulated, his hands werekissed at the front door and at the back door by servants, workmen fromthe factory, old women and young girls and peasants; the latter, inmemory of the days of serfdom, hung around the tables in front of thehouse, spread out with pies and small bottles of vodka. The happy boywas shy and pleased and proud, all at the same time; he caressed hisparents and ran out of the room. At dinner Sipiagin ordered champagne, and before drinking his son's health made a speech. He spoke of thesignificance of "serving the land, " and indicated the road he wished hisNikolai to follow (he did not use the diminutive of the boy's name), of the duty he owed, first to his family; secondly to his class, tosociety; thirdly to the people--"Yes, my dear ladies and gentlemen, tothe people; and fourthly, to the government!" By degrees Sipiagin becamequite eloquent, with his hand under the tail of his coat in imitation ofRobert Peel. He pronounced the word "science" with emotion, and finishedhis speech by the Latin exclamation, laboremus! which he instantlytranslated into Russian. Kolia, with a glass in his hand, went over tothank his father and to be kissed by the others. 

Nejdanov exchanged glances with Mariana again. .. 

They no doubt felt the same, but they did not speak to each other. 

However, Nejdanov was more amused than annoyed with the wholeproceeding, and the amiable hostess, Valentina Mihailovna, seemed to himto be an intelligent woman, who was aware that she was playing a part, but pleased to think that there was someone else intelligent enoughto understand her. Nejdanov probably had no suspicion of the degree inwhich he was flattered by her attitude towards him. 

On the following day lessons were renewed, and life fell back in itsordinary rut. 

A week flew by in this way. Nejdanov's thoughts and experiences duringthat time may be best gathered from an extract of a letter he wrote toa certain Silin, an old school chum and his best friend. Silin did notlive in St. Petersburg, but in a distant provincial town, with an oldrelative on whom he was entirely dependent. His position was such thathe could hardly dream of ever getting away from there. He was a man ofvery poor health, timid, of limited capacity, but of an extraordinarilypure nature. He did not interest himself in politics, but read anythingthat came in his way, played on the flute as a resource againstboredom, and was afraid of young ladies. Silin was passionately fondof Nejdanov--he had an affectionate heart in general. Nejdanov did notexpress himself to anyone as freely as he did to Vladimir Silin; whenwriting to him he felt as if he were communicating to some dear andintimate soul, dwelling in another world, or to his own conscience. Nejdanov could not for a moment conceive of the idea of living togetheragain with Silin, as comrades in the same town. He would probably havelost interest in him, as there was little in common between them, but hewrote him long letters gladly with the fullest confidence. With others, on paper at any rate, he was not himself, but this never happened whenwriting to Silin. The latter was not a master in the art of writing, andresponded only in short clumsy sentences, but Nejdanov had no need oflengthy replies; he knew quite well that his friend swallowed everyword of his, as the dust in the road swallows each drop of rain, thathe would keep his secrets sacredly, and that in his hopeless solitude hehad no other interests but his, Nejdanov's, interests. He had never toldanyone of his relation with Silin, a relation that was very dear to him. 

"Well, my dear friend, my pure-hearted Vladimir!" Thus he wrote tohim; he always called him pure-hearted, and not without good cause. "Congratulate me; I have fallen upon green pasture, and can rest awhileand gather strength. I am living in the house of a rich statesman, Sipiagin, as tutor to his little son; I eat well (have never eatenso well in my life!), sleep well, and wander about the beautifulcountry--but, above all, I have for a time crept out from under the wingof my St. Petersburg friends. At first it was horribly boring, but Ifeel a bit better now. I shall soon have to go into harness again, thatis, put up with the consequences of what I have undertaken (the reasonI was allowed to come here). For a time, at any rate, I can enjoy thedelights of a purely animal existence, expand in the waist, and writeverses if the mood seizes me. I will give you my observations anothertime. The estate seems to me well managed on the whole, with theexception, perhaps, of the factory, which is not quite right; some ofthe peasants are unapproachable, and the hired servants have servilefaces--but we can talk about these things later on. My host andhostess are courteous, liberal-minded people; the master is forever condescending, and bursts out from time to time in torrents ofeloquence, a most highly cultured person! His lady, a picturesquebeauty, who has all her wits about her, keeps such a close watch onone, and is so soft! I should think she has not a bone in her body! I amrather afraid of her, you know what sort of a ladies' man I make! Thereare neighbours--but uninteresting ones; then there is an old lady in thehouse who makes me feel uncomfortable. .. . Above all, I am interestedin a certain young lady, but whether she is a relative or simply acompanion here the Lord only knows! I have scarcely exchanged a coupleof words with her, but I feel that we are birds of a feather. .. "

Here followed a description of Mariana's personal appearance and of allher habits; then he continued:

"That she is unhappy, proud, ambitious, reserved, but above all unhappy, I have not the smallest doubt. But why she is unhappy, I have as yetfailed to discover. That she has an upright nature is quite evident, butwhether she is good-natured or not remains to be seen. Are there reallyany good-natured women other than stupid ones? Is goodness essential?However, I know little about women. The lady of the house does not likeher, and I believe it is mutual on either side. .. . But which of them isin the right is difficult to say. I think that the mistress is probablyin the wrong. .. Because she is so awfully polite to her; the other'sbrows twitch nervously when she is speaking to her patroness. She is amost highly-strong individual, like myself, and is just as easily upsetas I am, although perhaps not in the same way. 

"When all this can be disentangled, I will write to you again. 

"She hardly ever speaks to me, as I have already told you, but in thefew words she has addressed to me (always rather sudden and unexpected)there was a ring of rough sincerity which I liked. By the way, how longis that relative of yours going to bore you to death? When is he goingto die?

"Have you read the article in the 'European Messenger' about the latestimpostors in the province of Orenburg? It happened in 1834, my dear! Idon't like the journal, and the writer of the article is a conservative, but the thing is interesting and calculated to give one ideas. .. "

IX

MAY had reached its second half; the first hot summer days had alreadyset in. 

After his history lesson one day, Nejdanov wandered out into the garden, and from thence into a birch wood adjoining it on one side. Certainparts of this wood had been cleared by merchants about fifteen yearsago, but these clearings were already densely overgrown by youngbirches, whose soft silver trunks encircled by grey rings rose asstraight as pillars, and whose bright green leaves sparkled as if theyhad just been washed and polished. The grass shot up in sharp tonguesthrough the even layers of last years' fallen leaves. Little narrowpaths ran here and there, from which yellow-beaked blackbirds rose withstartled cries, flying close to the earth into the wood as hard as theycould go. 

After wandering about for half an hour, Nejdanov sat down on the stumpof a tree, surrounded by old greyish splinters, lying in heaps, exactlyas they had fallen when cut down by the axe. Many a time had thesesplinters been covered by the winter's snow and been thawed by thespring sun, but nobody had touched them. 

Nejdanov leaned against a solid wall of young birches casting a heavythough mild shade. He was not thinking of anything in particular, butgave himself up to those peculiar sensations of spring which in theheart of young and old alike are always mixed with a certain degree ofsadness--the keen sadness of awaiting in the young and of settled regretin the old. 

Nejdanov was suddenly awakened by approaching footsteps. 

It did not sound like the footsteps of one person, nor like a peasant inheavy boots, or a barefooted peasant woman; it seemed as if two peoplewere advancing at a slow, measured pace. The slight rustling of awoman's dress was heard. 

Suddenly a deep man's voice was heard to say:

Is this your last word? Never?

"Never!" a familiar woman's voice repeated, and a moment later from abend in the path, hidden from view by a young tree, Mariana appeared, accompanied by a swarthy man with black eyes, an individual whomNejdanov had never seen before. 

They both stood still as if rooted to the spot on catching sight of him, and he was so taken aback that he did not rise from the stump he wassitting on. Mariana blushed to the roots of her hair, but instantlygave a contemptuous smile. It was difficult to say whether the smile wasmeant for herself, for having blushed, or for Nejdanov. Her companionscowled--a sinister gleam was seen in the yellowish whites of histroubled eyes. He exchanged glances with Mariana, and without saying aword they turned their backs on Nejdanov and walked away as slowly asthey had come, while Nejdanov followed them with a look of amazement. 

Half an hour later he returned home to his room, and when, at the soundof the gong, he appeared in the drawing room, the dark-eyed strangerwhom he had seen in the wood was already there. Sipiagin introducedNejdanov to him as his beaufrere'a, Valentina Mihailovna'sbrother--Sergai Mihailovitch Markelov. 

"I hope you will get to know each other and be friends, gentlemen, "Sipiagin exclaimed with the amiable, stately, though absent-minded smilecharacteristic of him. 

Markelov bowed silently; Nejdanov responded in a similar way, andSipiagin, throwing back his head slightly and shrugging his shoulders, walked away, as much as to say, "I've brought you together, but whetheryou become friends or not is a matter of equal indifference to me!"

Valentina Mihailovna came up to the silent pair, standing motionless, and introduced them to each other over again; she then turned to herbrother with that peculiarly bright, caressing expression which sheseemed able to summon at will into her wonderful eyes. 

"Why, my dear Serge, you've quite forgotten us! You did not even come onKolia's name-day. Are you so very busy? My brother is making somesort of new arrangement with his peasants, " she remarked, turning toNejdanov. "So very original--three parts of everything for them and onefor himself; even then he thinks that he gets more than his share. "

"My sister is fond of joking, " Markelov said to Nejdanov in his turn, "but I am prepared to agree with her; for one man to take a quarter ofwhat belongs to a hundred, is certainly too much. "

"Do you think that I am fond of joking, Alexai Dmitritch?" MadameSipiagina asked with that same caressing softness in her voice and inher eyes. 

Nejdanov was at a loss for a reply, but just then Kollomietzev wasannounced. The hostess went to meet him, and a few moments later aservant appeared and announced in a sing-song voice that dinner wasready. 

At dinner Nejdanov could not keep his eyes off Mariana and Markelov. They sat side by side, both with downcast eyes, compressed lips, and anexpression of gloomy severity on their angry faces. Nejdanov wonderedhow Markelov could possibly be Madame Sipiagina's brother; they were solittle like each other. There was only one point of resemblancebetween them, their dark complexions; but the even colour of ValentinaMihailovna's face, arms, and shoulders constituted one of her charms, while in her brother it reached to that shade of swarthiness whichpolite people call "bronze, " but which to the Russian eye suggests abrown leather boot-leg. 

Markelov had curly hair, a somewhat hooked nose, thick lips, sunkencheeks, a narrow chest, and sinewy hands. He was dry and sinewy allover, and spoke in a curt, harsh, metallic voice. The sleepy look in hiseyes, the gloomy expression, denoted a bilious temperament! He ate verylittle, amused himself by making bread pills, and every now and againwould fix his eyes on Kollomietzev. The latter had just returned fromtown, where he had been to see the governor upon a rather unpleasantmatter for himself, upon which he kept a tacit silence, but was veryvoluble about everything else. Sipiagin sat on him somewhat when he wenta little too far, but laughed a good deal at his anecdotes and bon mots, although he thought qu'il est un affreux reactionnaire. Kollomietzevdeclared, among other things, how he went into raptures at what thepeasants, oui, oui! les simples mougiks! call lawyers. "Liars! Liars!"he shouted with delight. "Ce peupie russe est delicieux!" He then wenton to say how once, when going through a village school, he asked oneof the children what a babugnia was, and nobody could tell him, not eventhe teacher himself. He then asked what a pithecus was, and no one kneweven that, although he had quoted the poet Himnitz, 'The weakwittedpithecus that mocks the other beasts. ' Such is the deplorable conditionof our peasant schools!

"But, " Valentina Mihailovna remarked, "I don't know myself what arethese animals!"

"Madame!" Kollomietzev exclaimed, "there is no necessity for you toknow!"

"Then why should the peasants know?"

"Because it is better for them to know about these animals than aboutProudhon or Adam Smith!"

Here Sipiagin again intervened, saying that Adam Smith was one of theleading lights in human thought, and that it would be well to imbibe hisprinciples (he poured himself out a glass of wine) with the (he liftedthe glass to his nose and sniffed at it) mother's milk! He swallowed thewine. Kollomietzev also drank a glass and praised it highly. 

Markelov payed no special attention to Kollomietzev's talk, but glancedinterrogatively at Nejdanov once or twice; he flicked one of his littlebread pills, which just missed the nose of the eloquent guest. 

Sipiagin left his brother-in-law in peace; neither did ValentinaMihailovna speak to him; it was evident that both husband and wifeconsidered Markelov an eccentric sort of person whom it was better notto provoke. 

After dinner Markelov went into the billiard room to smoke a pipe, andNejdanov withdrew into his own room. 

In the corridor he ran against Mariana. He wanted to slip past her, whenshe stopped him with a quick movement of the hand. 

"Mr. Nejdanov, " she said in a somewhat unsteady tone of voice, "it oughtto be all the same to me what you think of me, but still I find it. .. Ifind it. .. " (she could not think of a fitting word) "I find it necessaryto tell you that when you met me in the wood today with Mr. Markelov. .. You must no doubt have thought, when you saw us both confused, that wehad come there by appointment. "

"It did seem a little strange to me--" Nejdanov began. "Mr. Markelov, "Mariana interrupted him, "proposed to me. .. And I refused him. That isall I wanted to say to you. Goodnight. Think what you like of me. "

She turned away and walked quickly down the corridor. 

Nejdanov entered his own room and sat down by the window musing. "Whata strange girl--why this wild issue, this uninvited explanation? Is it adesire to be original, or simply affectation--or pride? Pride, no doubt. She can't endure the idea. .. The faintest suspicion, that anyone shouldhave a wrong opinion of her. What a strange girl!"

Thus Nejdanov pondered, while he was being discussed on the terracebelow; every word could be heard distinctly. 

"I have a feeling, " Kollomietzev declared, "a feeling, that he'sa revolutionist. When I served on a special commission at thegovernor-general's of Moscow avec Ladisias, I learned to scent thesegentlemen as well as nonconformists. I believe in instinct aboveeverything. " Here Kollomietzev related how he had once caught an oldsectarian by the heel somewhere near Moscow, on whom he had looked in, accompanied by the police, and who nearly jumped out of his cottagewindow. "He was sitting quite quietly on his bench until that moment, the blackguard!"

Kollomietzev forgot to add that this old man, when put into prison, refused to take any food and starved himself to death. 

"And your new tutor, " Kollomietzev went on zealously, "is arevolutionist, without a shadow of a doubt! Have you noticed that he isnever the first to bow to anyone?"

"Why should he?" Madame Sipiagina asked; "on the contrary, that is whatI like about him. "

"I am a guest in the house in which he serves, " Kollomietzev exclaimed, "yes, serves for money, comme un salarie. .. . Consequently I am hissuperior. .. . He ought to bow to me first. "

"My dear Kollomietzev, you are very particular, " Sipiagin put in, layingspecial stress on the word dear. "I thought, if you'll forgive my sayingso, that we had outgrown all that. I pay for his services, his work, buthe remains a free man. "

"He does not feel the bridle, le frein! All these revolutionists arelike that. I tell you I can smell them from afar! Only Ladisias cancompare with me in this respect. If this tutor were to fall into myhands wouldn't I give it to him! I would make him sing a very differenttune! How he would begin touching his cap to me--it would be a pleasureto see him!"

"Rubbish, you swaggering little braggart!" Nejdanov almost shoutedfrom above, but at this moment the door opened and, to his greatastonishment, Markelov entered the room. 

X

NEJDANOV rose to meet him, and Markelov, coming straight up to him, without any form of greeting, asked him if he was Alexai Dmitritch, astudent of the St. Petersburg University. 

"Yes, " Nejdanov replied. 

Markelov took an unsealed letter out of a side pocket. 

"In that case, please read this. It is from Vassily Nikolaevitch, " headded, lowering his voice significantly. 

Nejdanov unfolded and read the letter. It was a semi-official circularin which Sergai Markelov was introduced as one of "us, " and absolutelytrustworthy; then followed some advice about the urgent necessity ofunited action in the propaganda of their well-known principles. The circular was addressed to Nejdanov, as being a person worthy ofconfidence. 

Nejdanov extended his hand to Markelov, offered him a chair, and satdown himself. 

Markelov, without saying a word, began lighting a cigarette; Nejdanovfollowed his example. 

"Have you managed to come in contact with the peasants here?" Markelovasked at last. 

"No, I haven't had time as yet. "

"How long have you been here?"

"About a fortnight. "

"Have you much to do?"

"Not very much. "

Markelov gave a severe cough. 

"H'm! The people here are stupid enough. A most ignorant lot. Theymust be enlightened. They're wretchedly poor, but one can't make themunderstand the cause of their poverty. "

"Your brother-in-law's old serfs, as far as one can judge, do not seemto be poor, " Nejdanov remarked. 

"My brother-in-law knows what he is about; he is a perfect master athumbugging people. His peasants are certainly not so badly off; but hehas a factory; that is where we must turn our attention. The slightestdig there will make the ants move. Have you any books with you?"

"Yes, a few. "

"I will get you some more. How is it you have so few?"

Nejdanov made no reply. Markelov also ceased, and began sending outpuffs of smoke through his nostrils. 

"What a pig this Kollomietzev is!" he exclaimed suddenly. "At dinner Icould scarcely keep from rushing at him and smashing his impudent faceas a warning to others. But no, there are more important things to bedone just now. There is no time to waste getting angry with fools forsaying stupid things. The time has now come to prevent them doing stupidthings. "

Nejdanov nodded his head and Markelov went on smoking. "Among theservants here there is only one who is any good, " he began again. "Notyour man, Ivan, he has no more sense than a fish, but another one, Kirill, the butler. " (Kirill was known to be a confirmed drunkard. )"He is a drunken debauchee, but we can't be too particular. What do youthink of my sister?" he asked, suddenly fixing his yellowish eyes onNejdanov. "She is even more artful than my brother-in-law. What do youthink of her?"

"I think that she is a very kind and pleasant lady. .. Besides, she isvery beautiful. "

"H'm! With what subtlety you St. Petersburg gentlemen expressyourselves! I can only marvel at it. Well, and what about--" he began, but his face darkened suddenly, and he did not finish the sentence. "Isee that we must have a good talk, " he went on. "It is quite impossiblehere. Who knows! They may be listening at the door. I have a suggestion. Today is Saturday; you won't be giving lessons to my nephew tomorrow, will you?"

"I have a rehearsal with him at three o'clock. "

"A rehearsal! It sounds like the stage. My sister, no doubt, inventedthe word. Well, no matter. Would you like to come home with me now? Myvillage is about ten miles off. I have some excellent horses who willget us there in a twinkling. You could stay the night and the morning, and I could bring you back by three o'clock tomorrow. Will you come?"

"With pleasure, " Nejdanov replied. Ever since Markelov's appearance hehad been in a state of great excitement and embarrassment. This suddenintimacy made him feel ill at ease, but he was nevertheless drawn tohim. He felt certain that the man before him was of a sufficiently bluntnature, but for all that honest and full of strength. Moreover, thestrange meeting in the wood, Mariana's unexpected explanation. .. 

"Very well!" Markelov exclaimed. "You can get ready while I order thecarriage to be brought out. By the way, I hope you won't have to askpermission of our host and hostess. "

"I must tell them. I don't think it would be wise to go away withoutdoing so. "

"I'll tell them, " Markelov said. "They are engrossed in their cards justnow and will not notice your absence. My brother-in-law aims only atgovernmental folk, and the only thing he can do well is to play atcards. However, it is said that many succeed in getting what theywant through such means. You'll get ready, won't you? I'll make allarrangements immediately. "

Markelov withdrew, and an hour later Nejdanov sat by his side on thebroad leather-cushioned seat of his comfortable old carriage. The littlecoachman on the box kept on whistling in wonderfully pleasant bird-likenotes; three piebald horses, with plaited manes and tails, flew likethe wind over the smooth even road; and already enveloped in the firstshadows of the night (it was exactly ten o'clock when they started), trees, bushes, fields, meadows, and ditches, some in the foreground, others in the background, sailed swiftly towards them. 

Markelov's tiny little village, Borsionkov, consisting of about twohundred acres in all, and bringing him in an income of seven hundredroubles a year, was situated about three miles away from the provincialtown, seven miles off from Sipiagin's village. To get to Borsionkov fromSipiagin's, one had to go through the town. Our new friends had scarcelytime to exchange a hundred words when glimpses of the mean littledwellings of shopkeepers on the outskirts of the town flashed past them, little dwellings with shabby wooden roofs, from which faint patchesof light could be seen through crooked little windows; the wheels soonrattled over the town bridge, paved with cobble stones; the carriagegave a jerk, rocked from side to side, and swaying with every jolt, rolled past the stupid two-storied stone houses, with imposing frontals, inhabited by merchants, past the church, ornamented with pillars, past the shops. .. . It was Saturday night and the streets were alreadydeserted--only the taverns were still filled with people. Hoarse drunkenvoices issued from them, singing, accompanied by the hideous sounds ofa concertina. Every now and again a door opened suddenly, letting forththe red reflection of a rush-light and a filthy, overpowering smell ofalcohol. Almost before every tavern door stood little peasant carts, harnessed with shaggy, big-bellied, miserable-looking hacks, whose headswere bowed submissively as if asleep; a tattered, unbelted peasant in abig winter cap, hanging like a sack at the back of his head, came outof a tavern door, and leaning his breast against the shafts, stood therehelplessly fumbling at something with his hands; or a meagre-lookingfactory worker, his cap awry, his shirt unfastened, barefooted, hisboots having been left inside, would take a few uncertain steps, stopstill, scratch his back, groan suddenly, and turn in again. .. 

"Drink will be the ruin of the Russian!" Markelov remarked gloomily. 

"It's from grief, Sergai Mihailovitch, " the coachman said withoutturning round. He ceased whistling on passing each tavern and seemed tosink into his own thoughts. 

"Go on! Go on!" Markelov shouted angrily, vigorously tugging at his owncoat collar. They drove through the wide market square reeking with thesmell of rush mats and cabbages, past the governor's house with colouredsentry boxes standing at the gate, past a private house with turrets, past the boulevard newly planted with trees that were already dying, past the hotel court-yard, filled with the barking of dogs and theclanging of chains, and so on through the town gates, where theyovertook a long, long line of waggons, whose drivers had taken advantageof the evening coolness, then out into the open country, where theyrolled along more swiftly and evenly over the broad road, planted oneither side with willows. 

We must now say a few words about Markelov. He was six years older thanhis sister, Madame Sipiagina, and had been educated at an artilleryschool, which he left as an ensign, but sent in his resignation when hehad reached the rank of lieutenant, owing to a certain unpleasantnessthat passed between him and his commanding officer, a German. Eversince then he always detested Germans, especially Russian Germans. Hequarrelled with his father on account of his resignation, and neversaw him again until just before his death, after which he inherited thelittle property and settled on it. In St. Petersburg he often came incontact with various brilliant people of advanced views, whom he simplyworshipped, and who finally brought him around to their way of thinking. Markelov had read little, mostly books relating to the thing thatchiefly interested him, and was especially attached to Herzen. Heretained his military habits, and lived like a Spartan and a monk. A fewyears ago he fell passionately in love with a girl who threw him over ina most unceremonious manner and married an adjutant, also a German. Heconsequently hated adjutants too. He tried to write a series of specialarticles on the shortcomings of our artillery, but had not the remotestidea of exposition and never finished a single article; he continued, however, covering large sheets of grey paper with his large, awkward, childish handwriting. Markelov was a man obstinate and fearless todesperation, never forgiving or forgetting, with a constant senseof injury done to himself and to all the oppressed, and prepared foranything. His limited mind was for ever knocking against one point; whatwas beyond his comprehension did not exist, but he loathed anddespised all deceit and falsehood. With the upper classes, with the"reactionaries" as he called them, he was severe and even rude, butwith the people he was simple, and treated a peasant like a brother. He managed his property fairly well, his head was full of all sortsof socialist schemes, which he could no more put into practice than hecould finish his articles on the shortcomings of the artillery. He neversucceeded in anything, and was known in his regiment as "the failure. "Of a sincere, passionate, and morbid nature, he could at a given momentappear merciless, blood-thirsty, deserving to be called a brute; atanother, he would be ready to sacrifice himself without a moment'shesitation and without any idea of reward. 

At about two miles away from the town the carriage plunged suddenly intothe soft darkness of an aspen wood, amidst the rustling of invisibleleaves, the fresh moist odour of the forest, with faint patches of lightfrom above and a mass of tangled shadows below. The moon had alreadyrisen above the horizon, broad and red like a copper shield. Emergingfrom the trees, the carriage came upon a small low farm house. Threeilluminated windows stood out sharply on the front of the house, whichshut out the moon's disc; the wide, open gate looked as if it was nevershut. Two white stage-horses, attached to the back of a high trap, werestanding in the courtyard, half in obscurity; two puppies, also white, rushed out from somewhere and gave forth piercing, though harmless, barks. People were seen moving in the house--the carriage rolled up tothe doorstep, and Markelov, climbing out and feeling with difficulty forthe iron carriage step, put on, as is usually the case, by the domesticblacksmith in the most inconvenient possible place, said to Nejdanov:"Here we are at home. You will find guests here whom you know very well, but little expect to meet. Come in. "

XI

THE guests turned out to be no other than our old friends Mashurina andOstrodumov. They were both sitting in the poorly-furnished drawingroom of Markelov's house, smoking and drinking beer by the light ofa kerosene lamp. Neither of them showed the least astonishment whenNejdanov came in, knowing beforehand that Markelov had intended bringinghim back, but Nejdanov was very much surprised on seeing them. On hisentrance Ostrodumov merely muttered "Good evening, " whilst Mashurinaturned scarlet and extended her hand. Markelov began to explain thatthey had come from St. Petersburg about a week ago, Ostrodumov to remainin the province for some time for propaganda purposes, while Mashurinawas to go on to K. To meet someone, also in connection with the cause. He then went on to say that the time had now come for them to dosomething practical, and became suddenly heated, although no one hadcontradicted him. He bit his lips, and in a hoarse, excited tone ofvoice began condemning the horrors that were taking place, saying thateverything was now in readiness for them to start, that none but cowardscould hold back, that a certain amount of violence was just as necessaryas the prick of the lancet to the abscess, however ripe it might be! Thelancet simile was not original, but one that he had heard somewhere. Heseemed to like it, and made use of it on every possible occasion. 

Losing all hope of Mariana's love, it seemed that he no longer caredfor anything, and was only eager to get to work, to enter the field ofaction as soon as possible. He spoke harshly, angrily, but straight tothe point like the blow of an axe, his words falling from his pale lipsmonotonously, ponderously, like the savage bark of a grim old watch dog. He said that he was well acquainted with both the peasants and factorymen of the neighbourhood, and that there were possible people amongthem. Instanced a certain Eremy, who, he declared, was prepared to goanywhere at a moment's notice. This man, Eremy, who belonged to thevillage Goloplok, was constantly on his lips. At nearly every tenth wordhe thumped his right hand on the table and waved the left in the air, the forefinger standing away from the others. This sinewy, hairyhand, the finger, hoarse voice, flashing eyes, all produced a strongimpression on his hearers. 

Markelov had scarcely spoken to Nejdanov on the journey, and all hisaccumulated wrath burst forth now. Ostrodumov and Mashurina expressedtheir approval every now and again by a look, a smile, a shortexclamation, but a strange feeling came over Nejdanov. He tried to makesome sort of objection at first, pointing out the danger of hasty actionand mentioned certain former premature attempts. He marvelled at theway in which everything was settled beyond a shadow of a doubt, withouttaking into consideration the special circumstances, or even trying tofind out what the masses really wanted. At last his nerves became sohighly strung that they trembled like the strings of an instrument, andwith a sort of despair, almost with tears in his eyes, he began speakingat the top of his voice, in the same strain as Markelov, going evenfarther than he had done. What inspired him would be difficult to say;was it remorse for having been inactive of late, annoyance with himselfand with others, a desire to drown the gnawings of an inner pain, ormerely to show off before his comrades, whom he had not seen for sometime, or had Markelov's words really had some effect upon him, fired hisblood? They talked until daybreak; Ostrodumov and Mashurina did not oncerise from their seats, while Markelov and Nejdanov remained on theirfeet all the time. Markelov stood on the same spot for all the worldlike a sentinel, and Nejdanov walked up and down the room with nervousstrides, now slowly, now hurriedly. They spoke of the necessary meansand measures to be employed, of the part each must take upon himself, selected and tied up various bundles of pamphlets and leaflets, mentioned a certain merchant, Golushkin, a nonconformist, as a verypossible man, although uneducated, then a young propagandist, Kisliakov, who was very clever, but had an exaggerated idea of his owncapabilities, and also spoke of Solomin. .. 

"Is that the man who manages a cotton factory?" Nejdanov asked, recalling what Sipiagin had said of him at table. 

"Yes, that is the man, " Markelov replied. "You should get to know him. We have not sounded him as yet, but I believe he is an extremely capableman. "

Eremy of Goloplok was mentioned again, together with Sipiagin's servant, Kirill, and a certain Mendely, known under the name of "Sulks. " Thelatter it seemed was not to be relied upon. He was very bold when sober, but a coward when drunk, and was nearly always drunk. 

"And what about your own people?" Nejdanov asked of Markelov. "Are thereany reliable men among them?"

Markelov thought there were, but did not mention anyone by name, however. He went on to talk of the town tradespeople, of thepublic-school boys, who they thought might come in useful if matterswere to come to fisticuffs. Nejdanov also inquired about the gentry ofthe neighbourhood, and learned from Markelov that there were five or sixpossible young men--among them, but, unfortunately, the most radical ofthem was a German, "and you can't trust a German, you know, he is sureto deceive you sooner or later!" They must wait and see what informationKisliakov would gather. Nejdanov also asked about the military, butMarkelov hesitated, tugged at his long whiskers, and announced atlast that with regard to them nothing certain was known as yet, unlessKisliakov had made any discoveries. 

"Who is this Kisliakov?" Nejdanov asked impatiently. 

Markelov smiled significantly. 

"He's a wonderful person, " he declared. "I know very little of him, have only met him twice, but you should see what letters he writes!Marvellous letters! I will show them to you and you can judge foryourself. He is full of enthusiasm. And what activity the man is capableof! He has rushed over the length and breadth of Russia five or sixtimes, and written a twelve-page letter from every place!"

Nejdanov looked questioningly at Ostrodumov, but the latter was sittinglike a statue, not an eyebrow twitching. Mashurina was also motionless, a bitter smile playing on her lips. 

Nejdanov went on to ask Markelov if he had made any socialistexperiments on his own estate, but here Ostrodumov interrupted him. 

"What is the good of all that?" he asked. "All the same, it will have tobe altered afterwards. "

The conversation turned to political channels again. The mysteriousinner pain again began gnawing at Nejdanov's heart, but the keener thepain, the more positively and loudly he spoke. He had drunk onlyone glass of beer, but it seemed to him at times that he was quiteintoxicated. His head swam around and his heart beat feverishly. 

When the discussion came to an end at last at about four o'clock in themorning, and they all passed by the servant asleep in the anteroom ontheir way to their own rooms, Nejdanov, before retiring to bed, stoodfor a long time motionless, gazing straight before him. He was filledwith wonder at the proud, heart-rending note in all that Markelov hadsaid. The man's vanity must have been hurt, he must have suffered, buthow nobly he forgot his own personal sorrows for that which he held tobe the truth. "He is a limited soul, " Nejdanov thought, "but is it not athousand times better to be like that than such. .. Such as I feel myselfto be?"

He immediately became indignant at his own self-depreciation. 

"What made me think that? Am I not also capable of self-sacrifice? Justwait, gentlemen, and you too, Paklin. I will show you all that althoughI am aesthetic and write verses--"

He pushed back his hair with an angry gesture, ground his teeth, undressed hurriedly, and jumped into the cold, damp bed. 

"Goodnight, I am your neighbour, " Mashurina's voice was heard from theother side of the door. 

"Goodnight, " Nejdanov responded, and remembered suddenly that during thewhole evening she had not taken her eyes off him. 

"What does she want?" he muttered to himself, and instantly feltashamed. "If only I could get to sleep!"

But it was difficult for him to calm his overwrought nerves, and the sunwas already high when at last he fell into a heavy, troubled sleep. 

In the morning he got up late with a bad headache. He dressed, went upto the window of his attic, and looked out upon Markelov's farm. Itwas practically a mere nothing; the tiny little house was situated in ahollow by the side of a wood. A small barn, the stables, cellar, anda little hut with a half-bare thatched roof, stood on one side; on theother a small pond, a strip of kitchen garden, a hemp field, another hutwith a roof like the first one; in the distance yet another barn, a tinyshed, and an empty thrashing floor--this was all the "wealth" that metthe eye. It all seemed poor and decaying, not exactly as if it had beenallowed to run wild, but as though it had never flourished, like a youngtree that had not taken root well. 

When Nejdanov went downstairs, Mashurina was sitting in the dining roomat the samovar, evidently waiting for him. She told him that Ostrodumovhad gone away on business, in connection with the cause, and would notbe back for about a fortnight, and that their host had gone to lookafter his peasants. As it was already at the end of May, and there wasno urgent work to be done, Markelov had thought of felling a small birchwood, with such means as he had at his command, and had gone down thereto see after it. 

Nejdanov felt a strange weariness at heart. So much had been said thenight before about the impossibility of holding back any longer, aboutthe necessity of making a beginning. "But how could one begin, now, atonce?" he asked himself. It was useless talking it over with Mashurina, there was no hesitation for her. She knew that she had to go to K. , andbeyond that she did not look ahead. Nejdanov was at a loss to know whatto say to her, and as soon as he finished his tea took his hat and wentout in the direction of the birch wood. On the way he fell in with somepeasants carting manure, a few of Markelov's former serfs. He enteredinto conversation with them, but was very little the wiser for it. They, too, seemed weary, but with a normal physical weariness, quite unlikethe sensation experienced by him. They spoke of their master as akind-hearted gentleman, but rather odd, and predicted his ruin, becausehe would go his own way, instead of doing as his forefathers had donebefore him. "And he's so clever, you know, you can't understand what hesays, however hard you may try. But he's a good sort. " A little fartheron Nejdanov came across Markelov himself. 

He as surrounded by a whole crowd of labourers, and one could see fromthe distance that he was trying to explain something to them as hard ashe could, but suddenly threw up his arms in despair, as if it were ofno use. His bailiff, a small, short-sighted young man without a trace ofauthority or firmness in his bearing, was walking beside him, and merelykept on repeating, "Just so, sir, " to Markelov's great disgust, who hadexpected more independence from him. Nejdanov went up to Markelov, andon looking into his face was struck by the same expression of spiritualweariness he was himself suffering from. Soon after greeting oneanother, Markelov began talking again of last night's "problems" (morebriefly this time), about the impending revolution, the weary expressionnever once leaving his face. He was smothered in perspiration and dust, his voice was hoarse, and his clothes were covered all over with bits ofwood shavings and pieces of green moss. The labourers stood bysilently, half afraid and half amused. Nejdanov glanced at Markelov, andOstrodumov's remark, "What is the good of it all? All the same, it willhave to be altered afterwards, " flashed across his mind. One of the men, who had been fined for some offence, began begging Markelov to let himoff. The latter got angry, shouted furiously, but forgave him in theend. "All the same, it will have to be altered afterwards. "

Nejdanov asked him for horses and a conveyance to take him home. Markelov seemed surprised at the request, but promised to haveeverything ready in good time. They turned back to the house together, Markelov staggering as he walked. 

"What is the matter with you?" Nejdanov asked. 

"I am simply worn out!" Markelov began furiously. "No matter what youdo, you simply can't make these people understand anything! They areutterly incapable of carrying out an order, and do not even understandplain Russian. If you talk of 'part', they know what that meanswell enough, but the word 'participation' is utterly beyond theircomprehension, just as if it did not belong to the Russian language. They've taken it into their heads that I want to give them a part of theland!"

Markelov had tried to explain to the peasants the principles ofcooperation with a view to introducing it on his estate, but they werecompletely opposed to it. "The pit was deep enough before, but nowthere's no seeing the bottom of it, " one of them remarked, and all theothers gave forth a sympathetic sigh, quite crushing poor Markelov. Hedismissed the men and went into the house to see about a conveyance andlunch. 

The whole of Markelov's household consisted of a man servant, a cook, a coachman, and a very old man with hairy ears, in a long-skirted linencoat, who had once been his grandfather's valet. This old man was forever gazing at Markelov with a most woe-begone expression on his face. He was too old to do anything, but was always present, huddled togetherby the door. 

After a lunch of hard-boiled eggs, anchovies, and cold hash (theman handing them pepper in an old pomade pot and vinegar in an oldeau-de-cologne bottle), Nejdanov took his seat in the same carriage inwhich he had come the night before. This time it was harnessed to twohorses, not three, as the third had been newly shod, and was a littlelame. 

Markelov had spoken very little during the meal, had eaten nothingwhatever, and breathed with difficulty. He let fall a few bitter remarksabout his farm and threw up his arms in despair. "All the same, it willhave to be altered afterwards!"

Mashurina asked Nejdanov if she might come with him as far as the town, where she had a little shopping to do. "I can walk back afterwards or, if need be, ask the first peasant I meet for a lift in his cart. "

Markelov accompanied them to the door, saying that he would soon sendfor Nejdanov again, and then. .. , then (he trembled suddenly, but pulledhimself together) they would have to settle things definitely. Solominmust also come. He (Markelov) was only waiting to hear from VassilyNikolaevitch, and that as soon as he heard from him there would benothing to hinder them from making a "beginning, " as the masses (thesame masses who failed to understand the word "participation") refusedto wait any longer!

"Oh, by the way, what about those letters you wanted to show me? What isthe fellow's name. .. Kisliakov?" Nejdanov asked. 

"Later on. .. I will show them to you later on. We can do it all at thesame time. "

The carriage moved. 

"Hold yourself in readiness!" Markelov's voice was heard again, as hestood on the doorstep. And by his side, with the same hopeless dejectionin his face, straightening his bent back, his hands clasped behind him, diffusing an odour of rye bread and mustiness, not hearing a singleword that was being said around him, stood the model servant, hisgrandfather's decrepit old valet. 

Mashurina sat smoking silently all the way, but when they reached thetown gates she gave a loud sigh. 

"I feel so sorry for Sergai Mihailovitch, " she remarked, her facedarkening. 

"He is over-worked, and it seems to me his affairs are in a bad way, "Nejdanov said. 

"I was not thinking of that. "

"What were you thinking of then?"

"He is so unhappy and so unfortunate. It would be difficult to find abetter man than he is, but he never seems to get on. "

Nejdanov looked at her. 

"Do you know anything about him?"

"Nothing whatever, but you can see for yourself. Goodbye, AlexaiDmitritch. " Mashurina clambered out of the carriage. 

An hour later Nejdanov was rolling up the courtyard leading toSipiagin's house. He did not feel well after his sleepless night and thenumerous discussions and explanations. 

A beautiful face smiled to him out of the window. It was MadameSipiagina welcoming him back home. 

"What glorious eyes she has!" he thought. 

XII

A GREAT many people came to dinner. When it was over, Nejdanov tookadvantage of the general bustle and slipped away to his own room. Hewanted to be alone with his own thoughts, to arrange the impressionshe had carried away from his recent journey. Valentina Mihailovna hadlooked at him intently several times during dinner, but there had beenno opportunity of speaking to him. Mariana, after the unexpected freakwhich had so bewildered him, was evidently repenting of it, and seemedto avoid him. Nejdanov took up a pen to write to his friend Silin, but he did not know what to say to him. There were so many conflictingthoughts and sensations crowding in upon him that he did not attempt todisentangle them, and put them off for another day. 

Kollomietzev had made one of the guests at dinner. Never before had thisworthy shown so much insolence and snobbish contemptuousness as on thisoccasion, but Nejdanov simply ignored him. 

He was surrounded by a sort of mist, which seemed to hang before himlike a filmy curtain, separating him from the rest of the world. And through this film, strange to say, he perceived only threefaces--women's faces--and all three were gazing at him intently. Theywere Madame Sipiagina, Mashurina, and Mariana. What did it mean? Whyparticularly these three? What had they in common, and what did theywant of him?

He went to bed early, but could not fall asleep. He was haunted by sadand gloomy reflections about the inevitable end--death. These thoughtswere familiar to him, many times had he turned them over this wayand that, first shuddering at the probability of annihilation, thenwelcoming it, almost rejoicing in it. Suddenly a peculiarly familiaragitation took possession of him. .. He mused awhile, sat down at thetable, and wrote down the following lines in his sacred copy-book, without a single correction:

When I die, dear friend, remember This desire I tell to thee: Burn thouto the last black ember All my heart has writ for me. Let the fairestflowers surround me, Sunlight laugh about my bed, Let the sweetestof musicians To the door of death be led. Bid them sound no strainof sadness--Muted string or muffled drum; Come to me with songs ofgladness--Whirling in the wild waltz come! I would hear--ere yet I hearnot--Trembling strings their cadence keep, Chords that quiver: so I alsoTremble as I fall asleep. Memories of life and laughter, Memories ofearthly glee, As I go to the hereafter All my lullaby shall be. 

When he wrote the word "friend" he thought of Silin. He read the versesover to himself in an undertone, and was surprised at what had come fromhis pen. This scepticism, this indifference, this almost frivolous lackof faith--how did it all agree with his principles? How did it agreewith what he had said at Markelov's? He thrust the copybook into thetable drawer and went back to bed. But he did not fall asleep untildawn, when the larks had already begun to twitter and the sky wasturning paler. 

On the following day, soon after he had finished his lesson and wassitting in the billiard room, Madame Sipiagina entered, looked roundcautiously, and coming up to him with a smile, invited him to come intoher boudoir. She had on a white barege dress, very simple, but extremelypretty. The embroidered frills of her sleeves came down as far as theelbow, a broad ribbon encircled her waist, her hair fell in thick curlsabout her neck. Everything about her was inviting and caressing, witha sort of restrained, yet encouraging, caressiveness, everything; thesubdued lustre of her half-closed eyes, the soft indolence of her voice, her gestures, her very walk. She conducted Nejdanov into her boudoir, acosy, charming room, filled with the scent of flowers and perfumes, thepure freshness of feminine garments, the constant presence of a woman. She made him sit down in an armchair, sat down beside him, and beganquestioning him about his visit, about Markelov's way of living, withmuch tact and sweetness. She showed a genuine interest in her brother, although she had not once mentioned him in Nejdanov's presence. Onecould gather from what she said that the impression Mariana had madeon her brother had not escaped her notice. She seemed a littledisappointed, but whether it was due to the fact that Mariana did notreciprocate his feelings, or that his choice should have fallen upona girl so utterly unlike him, was not quite clear. But most of all sheevidently strove to soften Nejdanov, to arouse his confidence towardsher, to break down his shyness; she even went so far as to reproach hima little for having a false idea of her. 

Nejdanov listened to her, gazed at her arms, her shoulders, and fromtime to time cast a look at her rosy lips and her unruly, massive curls. His replies were brief at first; he felt a curious pressure in histhroat and chest, but by degrees this sensation gave way to another, just as disturbing, but not devoid of a certain sweetness. .. . He wassurprised that such a beautiful aristocratic lady of important positionshould take the trouble to interest herself in him, a simple student, and not only interest herself, but flirt with him a little besides. Hewondered, but could not make out her object in doing so. To tell thetruth, he was little concerned about the object. Madame Sipiagina wenton to speak of Kolia, and assured Nejdanov that she wished to becomebetter acquainted with him only so that she might talk to him seriouslyabout her son, get to know his views on the education of Russianchildren. It might have seemed a little curious that such a wish shouldhave come upon her so suddenly, but the root of the matter did not liein what Valentina Mihailovna had said. She had been seized by a wave ofsensuousness, a desire to conquer and bring to her feet this rebelliousyoung man. 

Here it is necessary to go back a little. Valentina Mihailovna wasthe daughter of a general who had been neither over-wise norover-industrious in his life. He had received only one star and abuckle as a reward for fifty years' service. She was a Little Russian, intriguing and sly, endowed, like many of her countrywomen, with a verysimple and even stupid exterior, from which she knew how to extract themaximum of advantage. Valentina Mihailovna's parents were not rich, butthey had managed to educate her at the Smolny Convent, where, althoughconsidered a republican, she was always in the foreground and very welltreated on account of her excellent behaviour and industriousness. Onleaving the convent she settled with her mother (her brother had goneinto the country, and her father, the general with the star and buckle, had died) in a very clean, but extremely chilly, apartment, in which youcould see your own breath as you talked. Valentina Mihailovna used tomake fun of it and declare it was like being in church. She was verybrave in bearing with all the discomforts of a poor, pinched existence, having a wonderfully sweet temper. With her mother's help, she managedboth to keep up and make new connections and acquaintances, and was evenspoken of in the highest circles as a very nice well-bred girl. She hadseveral suitors, had fixed upon Sipiagin from them all, and had veryquickly and ingeniously made him fall in love with her. However, hewas soon convinced that he could not have made a better choice. Shewas intelligent, rather good than ill-natured, at bottom cold andindifferent, but unable to endure the idea that anyone should beindifferent to her. 

Valentina Mihailovna was possessed of that peculiar charm, thecharacteristic of all "charming" egoists, in which there is neitherpoetry nor real sensitiveness, but which is often full of superficialgentleness, sympathy, sometimes even tenderness. But these charmingegoists must not be thwarted. They are very domineering and cannotendure independence in others. Women like Madame Sipiagina excite anddisturb people of inexperienced and passionate natures, but are fond ofa quiet and peaceful life themselves. Virtue comes easy to them, theyare placid of temperament, but a constant desire to command, to attract, and to please gives them mobility and brilliance. They have an ironwill, and a good deal of their fascination is due to this will. It isdifficult for a man to hold his ground when the mysterious sparksof tenderness begin to kindle, as if involuntarily, in one of theseunstirred creatures; he waits for the hour to come when the ice willmelt, but the rays only play over the transparent surface, and neverdoes he see it melt or its smoothness disturbed!

It cost Madame Sipiagina very little to flirt, knowing full well that itinvolved no danger for herself, but to take the lustre out of another'seyes and see them sparkle again, to see another's cheeks become flushedwith desire and dread, to hear another's voice tremble and breakdown, to disturb another's soul--oh, how sweet it was to her soul! Howdelightful it was late at night, when she lay down in her snow-white bedto an untroubled sleep, to remember all these agitated words and looksand sighs. With what a self-satisfied smile she retired into herself, into the consciousness of her inaccessibility, her invulnerability, andwith what condescension she abandoned herself to the lawful embrace ofher well-bred husband! It was so pleasant that for a little time shewas filled with emotion, ready to do some kind deed, to help a fellowcreature. .. Once, after a secretary of legation, who was madly inlove with her, had attempted to cut his throat, she founded a smallalms-house! She had prayed for him fervently, although her religiousfeelings from earliest childhood had not been strongly developed. 

And so she talked to Nejdanov, doing everything she could to bring himto her feet. She allowed him to come near her, she revealed herselfto him, as it were, and with a sweet curiosity, with a half-maternaltenderness, she watched this handsome, interesting, stern radicalsoftening towards her quietly and awkwardly. A day, an hour, a minutelater and all this would have vanished without leaving a trace, but forthe time being it was pleasant, amusing, rather pathetic, and even alittle sad. Forgetting his origin, and knowing that such interest isalways appreciated by lonely people happening to fall among strangers, she began questioning him about his youth, about his family. .. Butguessing from his curt replies that she had made a mistake, ValentinaMihailovna tried to smooth things over and began to unfold herself stillmore before him, as a rose unfolds its fragrant petals on a hot summer'snoon, closing them again tightly at the first approach of the eveningcoolness. 

She could not fully smooth over her blunder, however. Having beentouched on a sensitive spot, Nejdanov could not regain his formerconfidence. That bitterness which he always carried, always felt atthe bottom of his heart, stirred again, awakening all his democraticsuspicions and reproaches. "That is not what I've come here for, " hethought, recalling Paklin's admonition. He took advantage of a pause inthe conversation, got up, bowed slightly, and went out "very foolishly"as he could not help saying to himself afterwards. 

His confusion did not escape Valentina Mihailovna's notice, and judgingby the smile with which she accompanied him, she had put it down to herown advantage. 

In the billiard room Nejdanov came across Mariana. She was standingwith her back to the window, not far from the door of Madame Sipiagina'sboudoir, with her arms tightly folded. Her face was almost in completeshadow, but she fixed her fearless eyes on Nejdanov so penetratingly, and her tightly closed lips expressed so much contempt and insultingpity, that he stood still in amazement. 

"Have you anything to say to me?" he asked involuntarily. 

Mariana did not reply for a time. 

"No. .. Yes I have, though not now. "

"When?"

"You must wait awhile. Perhaps--tomorrow, perhaps--never. I know solittle--what are you really like?"

"But, " Nejdanov began, "I sometimes feel. .. That between us--"

"But you hardly know me at all, " Mariana interrupted him. "Well, wait alittle. Tomorrow, perhaps. Now I have to go to. .. My mistress. Goodbye, till tomorrow. "

Nejdanov took a step or two in advance, but turned back suddenly. 

"By the way, Mariana Vikentievna. .. May I come to school with you oneday before it closes? I should like to see what you do there. "

"With pleasure. .. But it was not the school about which I wished tospeak to you. "

"What was it then?"

"Tomorrow, " Mariana repeated. 

But she did not wait until the next day, and the conversation betweenher and Nejdanov took place on that same evening in one of the lindenavenues not far from the terrace. 

XIII

SHE came up to him first. 

"Mr. Nejdanov, " she began, "it seems that you are quite enchanted withValentina Mihailovna. "

She turned down the avenue without waiting for a reply; he walked by herside. 

"What makes you think so?"

"Is it not a fact? In that case she behaved very foolishly today. I canimagine how concerned she must have been, and how she tried to cast herwary nets!"

Nejdanov did not utter a word, but looked at his companion sideways. 

"Listen, " she continued, "it's no use pretending; I don't like ValentinaMihailovna, and you know that well enough. I may seem unjust. .. But Iwant you to hear me first--"

Mariana's voice gave way. She suddenly flushed with emotion; underemotion she always gave one the impression of being angry. 

"You are no doubt asking yourself, 'Why does this tiresome young ladytell me all this?' just as you must have done when I spoke to you. .. About Mr. Markelov. "

She bent down, tore off a small mushroom, broke it to pieces, and threwit away. 

"You are quite mistaken, Mariana Vikentievna, " Nejdanov remarked. "Onthe contrary, I am pleased to think that I inspire you with confidence. "

This was not true, the idea had only just occurred to him. 

Mariana glanced at him for a moment. Until then she had persistentlylooked away from him. 

"It is not that you inspire me with confidence exactly, " she went onpensively; "you are quite a stranger to me. But your position--andmine--are very similar. We are both alike--unhappy; that is a bondbetween us. "

"Are you unhappy?" Nejdanov asked. 

"And you, are you not?" Mariana asked in her turn. Nejdanov did not sayanything. 

"Do you know my story?" she asked quickly. "The story of my father'sexile? Don't you? Well, here it is: He was arrested, tried, convicted, deprived of his rank and everything. .. And sent to Siberia, where hedied. My mother died too. My uncle, Mr. Sipiagin, my mother'sbrother, brought me up. .. I am dependent upon him--he is my benefactorand--Valentina Mihailovna is my benefactress. .. . I pay them back withbase ingratitude because I have an unfeeling heart. .. But the bread ofcharity is bitter--and I can't bear insulting condescensions--and can'tendure to be patronised. I can't hide things, and when I'm constantlybeing hurt I only keep from crying out because I'm too proud to do so. "

As she uttered these disjointed sentences, Mariana walked faster andfaster. Suddenly she stopped. "Do you know that my aunt, in order to getrid of me, wants to marry me to that hateful Kollomietzev? She knows myideas. .. In her eyes I'm almost a nihilist--and he! It's true he doesn'tcare for me. .. I'm not good-looking enough, but it's possible to sellme. That would also be considered charity. "

"Why didn't you--" Nejdanov began, but stopped short. 

Mariana looked at him for an instant. 

"You wanted to ask why I didn't accept Mr. Markelov, isn't that so?Well, what could I do? He's a good man, but it's not my fault that Idon't love him. "

Mariana walked on ahead, as if she wished to save her companion thenecessity of saying anything to this unexpected confession. 

They both reached the end of the avenue. Mariana turned quickly down anarrow path leading into a dense fir grove; Nejdanov followed her. Hewas under the influence of a twofold astonishment; first, it puzzled himthat this shy girl should suddenly become so open and frank with him, and secondly, that he was not in the least surprised at this frankness, that he looked upon it, in fact, as quite natural. 

Mariana turned round suddenly, stopped in the middle of the path withher face about a yard from Nejdanov's, and looked straight into hiseyes. 

"Alexai Dmitritch, " she said, "please don't think my aunt is a badwoman. She is not. She is deceitful all over, she's an actress, aposer--she wants everyone to bow down before her as a beauty and worshipher as a saint! She will invent a pretty speech, say it to one person, repeat it to a second, a third, with an air as if it had only just cometo her by inspiration, emphasising it by the use of her wonderful eyes!She understands herself very well--she is fully conscious of lookinglike a Madonna, and knows that she does not love a living soul! Shepretends to be forever worrying over Kolia, when in reality does nothingbut talk about him with clever people. She does not wish harm to anyone. .. Is all kindness, but let every bone in your body be broken beforeher very eyes. .. And she wouldn't care a straw! She would not movea finger to save you, and if by any chance it should happen to benecessary or useful to her. .. Then heaven have mercy on you. .. . "

Mariana ceased. Her wrath was choking her. She could not containherself, and had resolved on giving full vent to it, but words failedher. Mariana belonged to a particular class of unfortunate beings, veryplentiful in Russia, whom justice satisfies, but does not rejoice, whileinjustice, against which they are very sensitive, revolts them to theirinnermost being. All the time she was speaking, Nejdanov watched herintently. Her flushed face, her short, untidy hair, the tremuloustwitching of her thin lips, struck him as menacing, significant, andbeautiful. A ray of sunlight, broken by a net of branches, lay acrossher forehead like a patch of gold. And this tongue of fire seemed tobe in keeping with the keen expression of her face, her fixed wide-openeyes, the earnest sound of her voice. 

"Tell me why you think me unhappy, " Nejdanov observed at last. "Do youknow anything about me?

"Yes. "

"What do you know? Has anyone been talking to you about me?

"I know about your birth. "

"Who told you?

"Why, Valentina Mihailovna, of course, whom you admire so much. She mentioned in my presence, just in passing you know, but quiteintentionally, that there was a very interesting incident in your life. She was not condoling the fact, but merely mentioned it as a person ofadvanced views who is above prejudice. You need not be surprised; in thesame way she tells every visitor that comes that my father was sentto Siberia for taking bribes. However much she may think herself anaristocrat, she is nothing more than a mere scandal-monger and a poser. That is your Sistine Madonna!"

"Why is she mine in particular?"

Mariana turned away and resumed her walk down the path. 

"Because you had such a long conversation together, " she said, a lumprising in her throat. 

"I scarcely said a word the whole time, " Nejdanov observed. "It was shewho did the talking. "

Mariana walked on in silence. A turn in the path brought them to the endof the grove in front of which lay a small lawn; a weeping silver birchstood in the middle, its hollow trunk encircled by a round seat. Marianasat down on this seat and Nejdanov seated himself at her side. The longhanging branches covered with tiny green leaves were waving gently overtheir heads. Around them masses of lily-of-the-valley could be seenpeeping out from amidst the fine grass. The whole place was filled witha sweet scent, refreshing after the very heavy resinous smell of thepine trees. 

"So you want to see the school, " Mariana began; "I must warn you thatyou will not find it very exciting. You have heard that our principalmaster is the deacon. He is not a bad fellow, but you can't imagine whatnonsense he talks to the children. There is a certain boy among them, called Garacy, an orphan of nine years old, and, would you believe it, he learns better than any of the others!"

With the change of conversation, Mariana herself seemed to change. Sheturned paler, became more composed, and her face assumed an expressionof embarrassment, as if she were repenting of her outburst. Sheevidently wished to lead Nejdanov into discussing some "question" orother about the school, the peasants, anything, so as not to continue inthe former strain. But he was far from "questions" at this moment. 

"Mariana Vikentievna, " he began; "to be quite frank with you, I littleexpected all that has happened between us. " (At the word "happened" shedrew herself up. ) "It seems to me that we have suddenly become very. .. Very intimate. That is as it should be. We have for some time past beengetting closer to one another, only we have not expressed it in words. And so I will also speak to you frankly. It is no doubt wretched for youhere, but surely your uncle, although he is limited, seems a kind man, as far as one can judge. Doesn't he understand your position and takeyour part?"

"My uncle, in the first place, is not a man, he's an official, asenator, or a minister, I forget which; and in the second, I don't wantto complain and speak badly of people for nothing. It is not at allhard for me here, that is, nobody interferes with me; my aunt's pettypin-pricks are in reality nothing to me. .. I am quite free. "

Nejdanov looked at her in amazement. 

"In that case. .. Everything that you have just told me--"

"You may laugh at me if you like, " she said. "If I am unhappy--it is notas a result of my own sorrows. It sometimes seems to me that I sufferfor the miserable, poor and oppressed in the whole of Russia. .. No, it'snot exactly that. I suffer--I am indignant for them, I rebel for them. .. I am ready to go to the stake for them. I am unhappy because I am a'young lady, ' a parasite, that I am completely unable to do anything. .. Anything! When my father was sent to Siberia and I remained with mymother in Moscow, how I longed to go to him! It was not that I loved orrespected him very much, but I wanted to know, to see with my own eyes, how the exiled and banished live. .. How I loathed myself and all theseplacid, rich, well-fed people! And afterwards, when he returned home, broken in body and soul, and began humbly busying himself, trying towork. .. Oh. .. How terrible it was! It was a good thing that he died. .. And my poor mother too. But, unfortunately, I was left behind. .. . Whatfor? Only to feel that I have a bad nature, that I am ungrateful, thatthere is no peace for me, that I can do nothing--nothing for anything oranybody!"

Mariana turned away--her hand slid on to the seat. Nejdanov felt sorryfor her; he touched the drooping hand. Mariana pulled it away quickly;not that Nejdanov's action seemed unsuitable to her, but that he shouldon no account think that she was asking for sympathy. 

Through the branches of the pines a glimpse of a woman's dress could beseen. Mariana drew herself up. 

"Look, your Madonna has sent her spy. That maid has to keep a watch onme and inform her mistress where I am and with whom. My aunt very likelyguessed that I was with you, and thought it improper, especially afterthe sentimental scene she acted before you this afternoon. Anyhow, it'stime we were back. Let us go. "

Mariana got up. Nejdanov rose also. She glanced at him over hershoulder, and suddenly there passed over her face an almost childishexpression, making her embarrassment seem charming. 

"You are not angry with me, are you? You don't think I have been tryingto win your sympathy, do you? No, I'm sure you don't, " she went onbefore Nejdanov had time to make any reply; "you are like me, just asunhappy, and your nature. .. Is bad, like mine. We can go to the schooltogether tomorrow. We are excellent friends now, aren't we?"

When Mariana and Nejdanov drew near to the house, Valentina Mihailovnalooked at them from the balcony through her lorgnette, shook her headslowly with a smile on her lips, then returning through the openglass door into the drawing-room, where Sipiagin was already seated atpreferences with their toothless neighbour, who had dropped in to tea, she drawled out, laying stress on each syllable: "How damp the air is!It's not good for one's health!"

Mariana and Nejdanov exchanged glances; Sipiagin, who had just scoreda trick from his partner, cast a truly ministerial glance at his wife, looking her over from top to toe, then transferred this same cold, sleepy, but penetrating glance to the young couple coming in from thedark garden. 

XIV

Two more weeks went by; everything in its accustomed order. Sipiaginfixed everyone's daily occupation, if not like a minister, at any ratelike the director of a department, and was, as usual, haughty, humane, and somewhat fastidious. Kolia continued taking lessons; Anna Zaharovna, still full of spite, worried about him constantly; visitors cameand went, talked, played at cards, and did not seem bored. ValentinaMihailovna continued amusing herself with Nejdanov, although hercustomary affability had become mixed with a certain amount ofgood-natured sarcasm. Nejdanov had become very intimate with Mariana, and discovered that her temper was even enough and that one coulddiscuss most things with her without hitting against any violentopposition. He had been to the school with her once or twice, but withthe first visit had become convinced that he could do nothing there. It was under the entire control of the deacon, with Sipiagin's fullconsent. The good father did not teach grammar badly, although hismethod was rather old-fashioned, but at examinations he would put themost absurd questions. For instance, he once asked Garacy how he wouldexplain the expression, "The waters are dark under the firmament, " towhich Garacy had to answer, by the deacon's own order, "It cannot beexplained. " However, the school was soon closed for the summer, not tobe opened again until the autumn. 

Bearing in mind the suggestion of Paklin and others, Nejdanov did all hecould to come in contact with the peasants, but soon found that hewas only learning to understand them, in so far as he could make anyobservation and doing no propaganda whatever! Nejdanov had lived in atown all his life and, consequently, between him and the country peoplethere existed a gulf that could not be crossed. He once happened toexchange a few words with the drunken Kirill, and even with Mendely theSulky, but besides abuse about things in general he got nothing out ofthem. Another peasant, called Fituvy, completely nonplussed him. This peasant had an unusually energetic countenance, almost like somebrigand. "Well, this one seems hopeful at any rate, " Nejdanov thought. But it turned out that Fituvy was a miserable wretch, from whom the mirhad taken away his land, because he, a strong healthy man, WOULD NOTwork. "I can't, " he sobbed out, with deep inward groans, "I can't work!Kill me or I'll lay hands on myself!" And he ended by begging alms inthe streets! With a face out of a canvas of Rinaldo Rinaldini!

As for the factory men, Nejdanov could not get hold of them at all;these fellows were either too sharp or too gloomy. He wrote a longletter to his friend Silin about the whole thing, in which he bitterlyregretted his incapacity, putting it down to the vile education he hadreceived and to his hopelessly aesthetic nature! He suddenly came tothe conclusion that his vocation in the field of propaganda lay not inspeaking, but in writing. But all the pamphlets he planned did not workout somehow. Whatever he attempted to put down on paper, accordingto him, was too drawn out, artificial in tone and style, and once ortwice--oh horror! he actually found himself wandering off into verse, oron a sceptical, personal effusion. He even decided to speak about thisdifficulty to Mariana, a very sure sign of confidence and intimacy! Hewas again surprised to find her sympathetic, not towards his literaryattempts, certainly, but to the moral weakness he was suffering from, aweakness with which she, too, was somewhat familiar. Mariana's contemptfor aestheticism was no less strong than his, but for all that the mainreason why she did not accept Markelov was because there was not theslightest trace of the aesthetic in his nature!

She did not for a moment admit this to herself. It is often the casethat what is strongest in us remains only a half-suspected secret. 

Thus the days went by slowly, with little variety, but with sufficientinterest. 

A curious change was taking place in Nejdanov. He felt dissatisfied withhimself, that is, with his inactivity, and his words had a constant ringof bitter self-reproach. But in the innermost depths of his being therelurked a sense of happiness very soothing to his soul. Was it a resultof the peaceful country life, the summer, the fresh air, dainty food, beautiful home, or was it due to the fact that for the first time inhis life he was tasting the sweetness of contact with a woman's soul?It would be difficult to say. But he felt happy, although he complained, and quite sincerely, to his friend Silin. 

The mood, however, was abruptly destroyed in a single day. 

On the morning of this day Nejdanov received a letter from VassilyNikolaevitch, instructing him, together with Markelov, to lose notime in coming to an understanding with Solomin and a certain merchantGolushkin, an Old Believer, living at S. This letter upset Nejdanov verymuch; it contained a note of reproach at his inactivity. The bitternesswhich had shown itself only in his words now rose with full force fromthe depths of his soul. 

Kollomietzev came to dinner, disturbed and agitated. "Would you believeit!" he shouted almost in tears, "what horrors I've read in the papers!My friend, my beloved Michael, the Servian prince, has been assassinatedby some blackguards in Belgrade. This is what these Jacobins andrevolutionists will bring us to if a firm stop is not put to them all!"Sipiagin permitted himself to remark that this horrible murder wasprobably not the work of Jacobins, "of whom there could hardly be any inServia, " but might have been committed by some of the followers of theKarageorgievsky party, enemies of Obrenovitch. Kollomietzev would nothear of this, and began to relate, in the same tearful voice, how thelate prince had loved him and what a beautiful gun he had given him!Having spent himself somewhat and got rather irritable, he at lastturned from foreign Jacobins to home-bred nihilists and socialists, andended by flying into a passion. He seized a large roll, and breaking itin half over his soup plate, in the manner of the stylish Parisian inthe "Cafe-Riche, " announced that he would like to tear limb from limb, reduce to ashes, all those who objected to anybody or to anything! Thesewere his very words. "It is high time! High time!" he announced, raisingthe spoon to his mouth; "yes, high time!" he repeated, giving his glassto the servant, who was pouring out sherry. He spoke reverentially aboutthe great Moscow publishers, and Ladislas, notre bon et cher Ladislas, did not leave his lips. At this point, he fixed his eyes on Nejdanov, seeming to say: "There, this is for you! Make what you like of it! Imean this for you! And there's a lot more to come yet!" The latter, no longer able to contain himself, objected at last, and began in aslightly unsteady tone of voice (not due to fear, of course) defendingthe ideals, the hopes, the principles of the modern generation. Kollomietzev soon went into a squeak--his anger always expressed itselfin falsetto--and became abusive. Sipiagin, with a stately air, begantaking Nejdanov's part; Valentina Mihailovna, of course, sided with herhusband; Anna Zaharovna tried to distract Kolia's attention, lookingfuriously at everybody; Mariana did not move, she seemed turned tostone. 

Nejdanov, hearing the name of Ladislas pronounced at least for thetwentieth time, suddenly flared up and thumping the palm of his hand onthe table burst out:

"What an authority! As if we do not know who this Ladislas is! A bornspy, nothing more!"

"W-w-w-what--what--did you say?" Kollomietzev stammered cut, chokingwith rage. "How dare you express yourself like that of a man who isrespected by such people as Prince Blasenkramf and Prince Kovrishkin!"

Nejdanov shrugged his shoulders. 

"A very nice recommendation! Prince Kovrishkin, that enthusiasticflunky--"

"Ladislas is my friend, " Kollomietzev screamed, "my comrade--and I--"

"So much the worse for you, " Nejdanov interrupted him. "It means thatyou share his way of thinking, in which case my words apply to you too. "

Kollomietzev turned deadly pale with passion. 

"W-what? How? You--ought to be--on the spot--"

"What would you like to do with me ON THE SPOT?" Nejdanov asked withsarcastic politeness. Heaven only knows what this skirmish between thesetwo enemies might have led to, had not Sipiagin himself put a stop to itat the very outset. Raising his voice and putting on a serious air, inwhich it was difficult to say what predominated most, the gravity of animportant statesman or the dignity of a host, he announced firmly thathe did not wish to hear at his table such immoderate expressions, thathe had long ago made it a rule, a sacred rule, he added, to respectevery sort of conviction, so long as (at this point he raised hisforefinger ornamented with a signet ring) it came within the limits ofdecent behaviour; that if he could not help, on the one hand, condemningMr. Nejdanov's intemperate words, for which only his extreme youth couldbe blamed, he could not, on the other, agree with Mr. Kollomietzev'sembittered attack on people of an opposite camp, an attack, he feltsure, that was only due to an over-amount of zeal for the generalwelfare of society. 

"Under my roof, " he wound up, "under the Sipiagin's roof, there areno Jacobins and no spies, only honest, well-meaning people, who, oncelearning to understand one another, would most certainly clasp eachother by the hand!"

Neither Nejdanov nor Kollomietzev ventured on another word, but theydid not, however, clasp each other's hands. Their moment for a mutualunderstanding had not arrived. On the contrary, they had never yetexperienced such a strong antipathy to one another. 

Dinner ended in an awkward, unpleasant silence. Sipiagin attempted torelate some diplomatic anecdote, but stopped half-way through. Marianakept looking down at her plate persistently, not wishing to betray hersympathy with what Nejdanov had said. She was by no means afraid, butdid not wish to give herself away before Madame Sipiagina. She feltthe latter's keen, penetrating glance fixed on her. And, indeed, Madame Sipiagina did not take her eyes either off her or Nejdanov. Hisunexpected outburst at first came as a surprise to the intelligentlady, but the next moment a light suddenly dawned upon her, so that sheinvoluntarily murmured, "Ah!" She suddenly divined that Nejdanov wasslipping away from her, this same Nejdanov who, a short time ago, wasready to come to her arms. "Something has happened. .. . Is it Mariana? Ofcourse it's Mariana. .. She likes him. .. And he--"

"Something must be done. " Thus she concluded her reflections, whileKollomietzev was choking with indignation. Even when playing preferencetwo hours later, he pronounced the word "Pass!" or "I buy!" with anaching heart. A hoarse tremulo of wounded pride could be detected in hisvoice, although he pretended to scorn such things! Sipiagin was the onlyone really pleased with the scene. It had afforded him an opportunity ofshowing off the power of his eloquence and of calming the rising storm. He knew Latin, and Virgil's Quos ego was not unfamiliar to him. He didnot consciously compare himself to Neptune, but thought of him with akind of sympathetic feeling. 

XV

As soon as it was convenient for him to do so, Nejdanov retired to hisown room and locked himself in. He did not want to see anyone, anyoneexcept Mariana. Her room was situated at the very end of a longcorridor, intersecting the whole of the upper story. Nejdanov had onlyonce been there for a few moments, but it seemed to him that she wouldnot mind if he knocked at her door, now that she even wished to speak tohim herself. It was already fairly late, about ten o'clock. The host andhostess had not considered it necessary to disturb him after what hadtaken place at the dinner table. Valentina Mihailovna inquired onceor twice about Mariana, as she too had disappeared soon after dinner. "Where is Mariana Vikentievna?" she asked first in Russian, then inFrench, addressing herself to no one in particular, but rather to thewalls, as people often do when greatly astonished, but she soon becameabsorbed in the game. 

Nejdanov paced up and down the room several times, then turned down thecorridor and knocked gently at Mariana's door. There was no response. Heknocked again--then he turned the handle of the door. It was locked. But he had hardly got back to his own room and sat down, when the doorcreaked softly and Mariana's voice was heard: "Alexai Dmitritch, wasthat YOU, that came to me?"

He jumped up instantly and rushed out into the corridor. Mariana wasstanding at his door with a candle in her hand, pale and motionless. 

"Yes. .. I--" he murmured. 

"Come, " she said, turning down the corridor, but before reaching the endshe stopped and pushed open a low door. Nejdanov looked into a small, almost bare room. 

"We had better go in here, Alexai Dmitritch, no one will disturb ushere. "

Nejdanov obeyed. Mariana put the candlestick on a window-sill and turnedto him. 

"I understand why you wanted to see me, " she began. "It is wretched foryou to live in this house, and for me too. "

"Yes, I wanted to see you, Mariana Vikentievna, " Nejdanov replied, "butI do not feel wretched here since I've come to know you. "

Mariana smiled pensively. 

"Thank you, Alexai Dmitritch. But tell me, do you really intend stoppinghere after all that has happened?"

"I don't think they will keep me--I shall be dismissed, " Nejdanovreplied. 

"But don't you intend going away of your own accord?"

"I. .. No!"

"Why not?"

"Do you want to know the truth? Because you are here. " Mariana loweredher head and moved a little further down the room. 

"Besides, " Nejdanov continued, "I MUST stay here. You know nothing--butI want--I feel that I must tell you everything. " He approached Marianaand seized her hand; she did not take it away, but only looked straightinto his face. "Listen!" he exclaimed with sudden force, "Listen!"

And instantly, without stopping to sit down, although there were twoor three chairs in the room, still standing before her and holding herhand, with heated enthusiasm and with an eloquence, surprising even tohimself, he began telling her all his plans, his intentions, hisreason for having accepted Sipiagin's offer, about all his connections, acquaintances, about his past, things that he had always kept hiddenfrom everybody. He told her about Vassily Nikolaevitch's letters, everything--even about Silin! He spoke hurriedly, without a single pauseor the smallest hesitation, as if he were reproaching himself for nothaving entrusted her with all his secrets before--as if he werebegging her pardon. She listened to him attentively, greedily; shewas bewildered at first, but this feeling soon wore off. Her heart wasoverflowing with gratitude, pride, devotion, resoluteness. Her face andeyes shone; she laid her other hand on Nejdanov's--her lips parted inecstasy. She became marvellously beautiful!

He ceased at last, and suddenly seemed to see THIS face for the firsttime, although it was so dear and so familiar to him. He gave a deepsigh. 

"Ah! how well I did to tell you everything!" He was scarcely able toarticulate the words. 

"Yes, how well--how well!" she repeated, also in a whisper. She imitatedhim unconsciously--her voice, too, gave way. "And it means, " shecontinued, "that I am at your disposal, that I want to be useful to yourcause, that I am ready to do anything that may be necessary, go whereveryou may want me to, that I have always longed with my whole soul for allthe things that you want--"

She also ceased. Another word--and her emotion would have dissolved intotears. All the strength and force of her nature suddenly softened aswax. She was consumed with a thirst for activity, for self-sacrifice, for immediate self-sacrifice. 

A sound of footsteps was heard from the other side of the door--light, rapid, cautious footsteps. 

Mariana suddenly drew herself up and disengaged her hands; her moodchanged, she became quite cheerful, a certain audacious, scornfulexpression flitted across her face. 

"I know who is listening behind the door at this moment, " she remarked, so loudly that every word could be heard distinctly in the corridor;"Madame Sipiagina is listening to us. .. But it makes no difference tome. "

The footsteps ceased. 

"Well?" Mariana asked, turning to Nejdanov. "What shall I do? How shallI help you? Tell me. .. Tell me quickly! What shall I do?"

"I don't know yet, " Nejdanov replied. "I have received a note fromMarkelov--"

"When did you receive it? When?"

"This evening. He and I must go and see Solomin at the factorytomorrow. "

"Yes. .. Yes. .. . What a splendid man Markelov is! Now he's a realfriend!"

"Like me"

"No--not like you. "

"How?"

She turned away suddenly. 

"Oh! Don't you understand what you have become for me, and what I amfeeling at this moment?"

Nejdanov's heart beat violently; he looked down. This girl who lovedhim--a poor, homeless wretch, who trusted him, who was ready tofollow him, pursue the same cause together with him--this wonderfulgirl--Mariana--became for Nejdanov at this moment the incarnation ofall earthly truth and goodness--the incarnation of the love of mother, sister, wife, all the things he had never known; the incarnation of hiscountry, happiness, struggle, freedom!

He raised his head and encountered her eyes fixed on him again. 

Oh, how this sweet, bright glance penetrated to his very soul!

"And so, " he began in an unsteady voice, "I am going away tomorrow. .. And when I come back, I will tell. .. You--" (he suddenly felt it awkwardto address Mariana as "you") "tell you everything that is decided upon. From now on everything that I do and think, everything, I will tell theefirst. "

"Oh, my dear!" Mariana exclaimed, seizing his hand again. "I promisethee the same!"

The word "thee" escaped her lips just as simply and easily as if theyhad been old comrades. 

"Have you got the letter?"

"Here it is. "

Mariana scanned the letter and looked up at him almost reverently. 

"Do they entrust you with such important commissions?" He smiled inreply and put the letter back in his pocket. "How curious, " he said, "wehave come to know of our love, we love one another--and yet we have notsaid a single word about it. "

"There is no need, " Mariana whispered, and suddenly threw her armsaround his neck and pressed her head closely against his breast. Theydid not kiss--it would have seemed to them too commonplace and ratherterrible--but instantly took leave of one another, tightly clasping eachother's hands. 

Mariana returned for the candle which she had left on the window-sillof the empty room. Only then a sort of bewilderment came over her; sheextinguished the candle and, gliding quickly along the dark corridor, entered her own room, undressed and went to bed in the soothingdarkness. 

XVI

ON awakening the following morning, Nejdanov did not feel the slightestembarrassment at what had taken place the previous night, but was, onthe contrary, filled with a sort of quiet joy, as if he had fulfilledsomething which ought to have been done long ago. Asking for two days'leave from Sipiagin, who consented readily, though with a certain amountof severity, Nejdanov set out for Markelov's. Before his departure hemanaged to see Mariana. She was also not in the least abashed, lookedat him calmly and resolutely, and called him "dear" quite naturally. She was very much concerned about what he might hear at Markelov's, andbegged him to tell her everything. 

"Of course!" he replied. "After all, " he thought, "why should we bedisturbed? In our friendship personal feeling played only. .. A secondarypart, and we are united forever. In the name of the cause? Yes, in thename of the cause!"

Thus Nejdanov thought, and he did not himself suspect how much truth andhow much falsehood there lay in his reflections. 

He found Markelov in the same weary, sullen frame of mind. After a veryimpromptu dinner they set out in the well-known carriage to the merchantFalyeva's cotton factory where Solomin lived. (The second side horseharnessed to the carriage was a young colt that had never been inharness before. Markelov's own horse was still a little lame. )

Nejdanov's curiosity had been aroused. He very much wanted to becomecloser acquainted with a man about whom he had heard so much of late. Solomin had been informed of their coming, so that as soon as the twotravellers stopped at the gates of the factory and announced who theywere, they were immediately conducted into the hideous little wingoccupied by the "engineering manager. " He was at that time in the mainbody of the building, and while one of the workmen ran to fetch him, Nejdanov and Markelov managed to go up to the window and look around. The factory was apparently in a very flourishing condition andover-loaded with work. From every corner came the quick buzzing sound ofunceasing activity; the puffing and rattling of machines, the creakingof looms, the humming of wheels, the whirling of straps, while trolleys, barrels, and loaded carts were rolling in and out. Orders were shoutedout at the top of the voice amidst the sound of bells and whistles;workmen in blouses with girdles round their waists, their hair fastenedwith straps, work girls in print dresses, hurried quickly to and fro, harnessed horses were led about. 

It represented the hum of a thousand human beings working with all theirmight. Everything went at full speed in fairly regular order, but notonly was there an absence of smartness and neatness, but there was notthe smallest trace or cleanliness to be seen anywhere. On the contrary, in every corner one was struck by neglect, dirt, grime; here a pane ofglass was broken, there the plaster was coming off; in another place theboards were loose; in a third, a door gaped wide open. A large filthypuddle covered with a coating of rainbow-coloured slime stood in themiddle of the main yard; farther on lay a heap of discarded bricks;scraps of mats and matting, boxes, and pieces of rope lay scattered hereand there; shaggy, hungry-looking dogs wandered to and fro, too listlessto bark; in a corner, under the fence, sat a grimy little boy of aboutfour, with an enormous belly and dishevelled head, crying hopelessly, as if he had been forsaken by the whole world; close by a sow likewisebesmeared in soot and surrounded by a medley of little suckling-pigs wasdevouring some cabbage stalks; some ragged clothes were stretched ona line--and such stuffiness and stench! In a word, just like a Russianfactory--not like a French or a German one. 

Nejdanov looked at Markelov. 

"I have heard so much about Solomin's superior capabilities, " he began, "that I confess all this disorder surprises me. I did not expect it. "

"This is not disorder, but the usual Russian slovenliness, " Markelovreplied gloomily. "But all the same, they are turning over millions. Solomin has to adjust himself to the old ways, to practical things, andto the owner himself. Have you any idea what Falyeva is like?"

"Not in the least. "

"He is the biggest skinflint in Moscow. A regular bourgeois. "

At this moment Solomin entered the room. Nejdanov was just asdisillusioned about him as he had been about the factory. At the firstglance he gave one the impression of being a Finn or a Swede. He wastall, lean, broad-shouldered, with colourless eyebrows and eyelashes;had a long sallow face, a short, rather broad nose, small greenish eyes, a placid expression, coarse thick lips, large teeth, and a divided chincovered with a suggestion of down. He was dressed like a mechanic or astoker in an old pea-jacket with baggy pockets, with an oil-skin cap onhis head, a woollen scarf round his neck, and tarred boots on his feet. He was accompanied by a man of about forty in a peasant coat, who had anextraordinarily lively gipsy-like face, coal-black piercing eyes, withwhich he scanned Nejdanov as soon as he entered the room. Markelov wasalready known to him. This was Pavel, Solomin's factotum. 

Solomin approached the two visitors slowly and without a word, pressedthe hand of each in turn in his own hard bony one. He opened a drawer, pulled out a sealed letter, which he handed to Pavel, also withouta word, and the latter immediately left the room. Then he stretchedhimself, threw away his cap with one wave of the hand, sat down ona painted wooden stool and, pointing to a couch, begged Nejdanov andMarkelov to be seated. 

Markelov first introduced Nejdanov, whom Solomin again shook by thehand, then he went on to "business, " mentioning Vassily Nikolaevitch'sletter, which Nejdanov handed to Solomin. And while the latter wasreading it carefully, his eyes moving from line to line, Nejdanov satwatching him. Solomin was near the window and the sun, already lowin the horizon, was shining full on his tanned face covered withperspiration, on his fair hair covered with dust, making it sparkle likea mass of gold. His nostrils quivered and distended as he read, andhis lips moved as though he were forming every word. He held the letterraised tightly in both hands, and when he had finished returned it toNejdanov and began listening to Markelov again. The latter talked untilhe had exhausted himself. 

"I am afraid, " Solomin began (his hoarse voice, full of youthand strength, was pleasing to Nejdanov's ear), "it will be ratherinconvenient to talk here. Why not go to your place? It is only aquestion of seven miles. You came in your carriage, did you not?"

"Yes. "

"Well, I suppose you can make room for me. I shall have finished mywork in about an hour, and will be quite free. We can talk thingsover thoroughly. You are also free, are you not?" he asked, turning toNejdanov. 

"Until the day after tomorrow. "

"That's all right. We can stay the night at your place, SergaiMihailovitch, I suppose?

"Of course you may!"

"Good. I shall be ready in a minute. I'll just make myself a little morepresentable. "

"And how are things at your factory?" Nejdanov asked significantly. 

Solomin looked away. 

"We can talk things over thoroughly, " he remarked a second time. "Please excuse me a moment. .. I'll be back directly. .. . I've forgottensomething. "

He went out. Had he not already produced a good impression on Nejdanov, the latter would have thought that he was backing out, but such an ideadid not occur to him. 

An hour later, when from every story, every staircase and door of theenormous building, a noisy crowd of workpeople came streaming out, thecarriage containing Markelov, Nejdanov, and Solomin drove out of thegates on to the road. 

"Vassily Fedotitch! Is it to be done?" Pavel shouted after Solomin, whomhe had accompanied to the gate. 

"No, not now, " Solomin replied. "He wanted to know about some nightwork, " he explained, turning to his companions. 

When they reached Borsionkov they had some supper, merely for the sakeof politeness, and afterwards lighted cigars and began a discussion, oneof those interminable, midnight Russian discussions which in degree andlength are only peculiar to Russians and unequalled by people of anyother nationality. During the discussion, too, Solomin did not come upto Nejdanov's expectation. He spoke little--so little that one mightalmost have said that he was quite silent. But he listened attentively, and whenever he made any remark or gave an opinion, did so briefly, seriously, showing a considerable amount of common-sense. Solomin didnot believe that the Russian revolution was so near at hand, but notwishing to act as a wet blanket on others, he did not intrude hisopinions or hinder others from making attempts. He looked on from adistance as it were, but was still a comrade by their side. He knewthe St. Petersburg revolutionists and agreed with their ideas up to acertain point. He himself belonged to the people, and fully realisedthat the great bulk of them, without whom one can do nothing, were stillquite indifferent, that they must first be prepared, by quite differentmeans and for entirely different ends than the upper classes. So he heldaloof, not from a sense of superiority, but as an ordinary man with afew independent ideas, who did not wish to ruin himself or others invain. But as for listening, there was no harm in that. 

Solomin was the only son of a deacon and had five sisters, who were allmarried to priests or deacons. He was also destined for the church, butwith his father's consent threw it up and began to study mathematics, as he had taken a special liking to mechanics. He entered a factory ofwhich the owner was an Englishman, who got to love him like his own son. This man supplied him with the means of going to Manchester, where hestayed for two years, acquiring an excellent knowledge of the Englishlanguage. With the Moscow merchant he had fallen in but a short timeago. He was exacting with his subordinates, a manner he had acquiredin England, but they liked him nevertheless, and treated him as one ofthemselves. His father was very proud of him, and used to speak of himas a steady sort of man, but was very grieved that he did not marry andsettle down. 

During the discussion, as we have already said, Solomin sat silent thewhole time; but when Markelov began enlarging upon the hopes they puton the factory workers, Solomin remarked, in his usual laconic way, thatthey must not depend too much on them, as factory workers in Russia werenot what they were abroad. "They are an extremely mild set of peoplehere. "

"And what about the peasants?"

"The peasants? There are a good many sweaters and money-lenders amongthem now, and there are likely to be more in time. This kind only lookto their own interests, and as for the others, they are as ignorant assheep. "

"Then where are we to turn to?" Solomin smiled. 

"Seek and ye shall find. "

There was a constant smile on his lips, but the smile was as full ofmeaning as the man himself. With Nejdanov he behaved in a very peculiarmanner. He was attracted to the young student and felt an almost tendersympathy for him. At one part of the discussion, where Nejdanov brokeout into a perfect torrent of words, Solomin got up quietly, movedacross the room with long strides, and shut a window that was standingopen just above Nejdanov's head. 

"You might catch cold, " he observed, in answer to the orator's look ofamazement. 

Nejdanov began to question him about his factory, asking if anycooperative experiments had been made, if anything had been done so thatthe workers might come in for a share of the profits. 

"My dear fellow!" Solomin exclaimed, "I instituted a school and a tinyhospital, and even then the owner struggled like a bear!"

Solomin lost his temper once in real earnest on hearing of some legalinjustice about the suppression of a workman's association. He bangedhis powerful fist on the table so that everything on it trembled, including a forty-pound weight, which happened to be lying near the inkpot. 

When Markelov and Nejdanov began discussing ways and means of executingtheir plans, Solomin listened with respectful curiosity, but did notpronounce a single word. Their talk lasted until four o'clock in themorning, when they had touched upon almost everything under the sun. Markelov again spoke mysteriously of Kisliakov's untiring journeys andhis letters, which were becoming more interesting than ever. He promisedto show them to Nejdanov, saying that he would probably have to takethem away with him, as they were rather lengthy and written in anillegible handwriting. He assured him that there was a great deal oflearning in them and even poetry, not of the frivolous kind, but poetrywith a socialistic tendency!

From Kisliakov, Markelov went on to the military, to adjutants, Germans, even got so far as his articles on the shortcomings of the artillery, whilst Nejdanov spoke about the antagonism between Heine and Borne, Proudhon, and realism in art. Solomin alone sat listening andreflecting, the smile never leaving his lips. Without having uttered asingle word, he seemed to understand better than the others where theessential difficulty lay. 

The hour struck four. Nejdanov and Markelov could scarcely stand ontheir legs from exhaustion, while Solomin was as fresh as could be. Theyparted for the night, having agreed to go to town the next day to seethe merchant Golushkin, an Old Believer, who was said to be very zealousand promised proselytes. 

Solomin doubted whether it was worth while going, but agreed to go inthe end. 

XVII

MARKELOV'S guests were still asleep when a messenger with a lettercame to him from his sister, Madame Sipiagina. In this letter ValentinaMihailovna spoke about various little domestic details, asked him toreturn a book he had borrowed, and added, by the way, in a postscript, the very "amusing" piece of news that his old flame Mariana was in lovewith the tutor Nejdanov and he with her. This was not merely gossip, butshe, Valentina Mihailovna, had seen with her own eyes and heard with herown ears. Markelov's face grew blacker than night, but he did not uttera word. He ordered the book to be returned, and when he caught sight ofNejdanov coming downstairs, greeted him just as usual and did not evenforget to give him the promised packet of Kisliakov's letters. He didnot stay with him however, but went out to see to the farm. 

Nejdanov returned to his own room and glanced through the letters. The young propagandist spoke mostly about himself, about his unsparingactivity. According to him, during the last month, he had been inno less than eleven provinces, nine towns, twenty-nine villages, fifty-three hamlets, one farmhouse, and seven factories. Sixteen nightshe had slept in hay-lofts, one in a stable, another even in a cow-shed(here he wrote, in parenthesis, that fleas did not worry him); hehad wheedled himself into mud-huts, workmen's barracks, had preached, taught, distributed pamphlets, and collected information; some things hehad made a note of on the spot; others he carried in his memory by thevery latest method of mnemonics. He had written fourteen long letters, twenty-eight shorter ones, and eighteen notes, four of which werewritten in pencil, one in blood, and another in soot and water. Allthis he had managed to do because he had learned how to divide his timesystematically, according to the examples set by men such as QuintinJohnson, Karrelius, Sverlitskov, and other writers and statisticians. Then he went on to talk of himself again, of his guiding star, sayinghow he had supplemented Fourier's passions by being the first todiscover the "fundaments, the root principle, " and how he would notgo out of this world without leaving some trace behind him; how he wasfilled with wonder that he, a youth of twenty-four, should have solvedall the problems of life and science; that he would turn the whole ofRussia up-side-down, that he would "shake her up!" "Dixi!!" he added atthe end of the paragraph. This word "Dixi" appeared very frequently inKisliakov's letters, and always with a double exclamation mark. In oneof the letters there were some verses with a socialist tendency, writtento a certain young lady, beginning with the words--"Love not me, but theidea!"

Nejdanov marvelled inwardly, not so much at Kisliakov's conceit, as atMarkelov's honest simplicity. "Bother aestheticism! Mr. Kisliakov may beeven useful, " he thought to himself instantly. 

The three friends gathered together for tea in the dining-room, butlast night's conversation was not renewed between them. Not one of themwished to talk, but Solomin was the only one who sat silent peacefully. Both Nejdanov and Markelov seemed inwardly agitated. After tea theyset out for the town. Markelov's old servant, who was sitting on thedoorstep, accompanied his former master with his habitual dejectedglance. 

The merchant Golushkin, with whom it was necessary to acquaint Nejdanov, was the son of a wealthy merchant in drugs, an Old Believer, of theThedosian sect. He had not increased the fortune left to him by hisfather, being, as the saying goes, a joneur, an Epicurean in the Russianfashion, with absolutely no business abilities. He was a man of forty, rather stout and ugly, pock-marked, with small eyes like a pig's. Hespoke hurriedly, swallowing his words as it were, gesticulated withhis hands, threw his legs about and went into roars of laughter ateverything. On the whole, he gave one the impression of being a stupid, spoiled, conceited bounder. He considered himself a man of culturebecause he dressed in the German fashion, kept an open house (though itwas not overly clean), frequented the theatre, and had many protegeesamong variety actresses, with whom he conversed in some extraordinaryjargon meant to be French. His principal passion was a thirst forpopularity. "Let the name of Golushkin thunder through the world! Asonce Suvorov or Potyomkin, then why not now Kapiton Golushkin?" It wasthis very passion, conquering even his innate meanness, which had thrownhim, as he himself expressed it not without a touch of pride, "into thearms of the opposition" (formerly he used to say "position, " buthad learned better since then) and brought him in contact with thenihilists. He gave expression to the most extreme views, scoffed athis own Old Believer's faith, ate meat in Lent, played cards, and drankchampagne like water. He never got into difficulties, because he said, "Wherever necessary, I have bribed the authorities. All holes arestitched up, all mouths are closed, all ears are stopped. "

He was a widower without children. His sister's sons fawned around himcontinuously, but he called them a lot of ignorant louts, barbarians, and would hardly look at them. He lived in a large, stone house, kept inrather a slovenly manner. Some of the rooms were furnished with foreignfurniture, others contained nothing but a few painted wooden chairs anda couch covered with American cloth. There were pictures everywhere ofan indifferent variety. Fiery landscapes, purple seascapes, fat nakedwomen with pink-coloured knees and elbows, and "The Kiss" by Moller. Inspite of the fact that Golushkin had no family, there were a great manymenials and hangers-on collected under his roof. He did not receive themfrom any feeling of generosity, but simply from a desire to be popularand to have someone at his beck and call. "My clients, " he used to saywhen he wished to throw dust in one's eyes. He read very little, but hadan excellent memory for learned expressions. 

The young people found Golushkin in his study, where he was sittingcomfortably wrapped up in a long dressing-gown, with a cigar between hislips, pretending to be reading a newspaper. On their entrance hejumped up, rushed up to them, went red in the face, shouted for somerefreshments to be brought quickly, asked them some questions, laughedfor no reason in particular, and all this in one breath. He knewMarkelov and Solomin, but had not yet met Nejdanov. On hearing that thelatter was a student, he broke into another laugh, pressed his hand asecond time, exclaiming:

"Splendid! Splendid! We are gathering forces! Learning is light, ignorance is darkness--I had a wretched education myself, but Iunderstand things; that's how I've got on!"

It seemed to Nejdanov that Golushkin was shy and embarrassed--and indeedit really was so. "Take care, brother Kapiton! Mind what you are about!"was his first thought on meeting a new person. He soon recovered himselfhowever, and began in the same hurried, lisping, confused tone of voice, talking about Vassily Nikolaevitch, about his temperament, about thenecessity of pro-pa-ganda (he knew this word quite well, but articulatedit slowly), saying that he, Golushkin, had discovered a certainpromising young chap, that the time had now come, that the time was nowripe for. .. For the lancet (at this word he glanced at Markelov, but thelatter did not stir). He then turned to Nejdanov and began speaking ofhimself in no less glowing terms than the distinguished correspondentKisliakov, saying that he had long ago ceased being a fool, that hefully recognised the rights of the proletariat (he remembered this wordsplendidly), that although he had actually given up commerce and takento banking instead with a view to increasing his capital, yet only sothat this same capital could at any given moment be called upon forthe use. .. For the use of the cause, that is to say, for the use of thepeople, and that he, Golushkin, in reality, despised wealth! At thispoint a servant entered with some refreshment; Golushkin cleared histhroat significantly, asked if they would not partake of something, andwas the first to gulp down a glass of strong pepper-brandy. The guestspartook of refreshments. Golushkin thrust huge pieces of caviar into hismouth and drank incessantly, saying every now and again:

"Come, gentlemen, come, some splendid Macon, please!" Turning toNejdanov, he began asking him where he had come from, where he wasstaying and for how long, and on hearing that he was staying atSipiagin's, exclaimed: "I know this gentleman! Nothing in him whatever!"and instantly began abusing all the landowners in the province because, he said, not only were they void of public spirit, but they did not evenunderstand their own interests. 

But, strange to say, in spite of his being so abusive, his eyes wanderedabout uneasily. Nejdanov could not make him out at all, and wonderedwhat possible use he could be to them. Solomin was silent as usual andMarkelov wore such a gloomy expression that Nejdanov could not helpasking what was the matter with him. Markelov declared that it wasnothing in a tone in which people commonly let you understand that thereis something wrong, but that it does not concern you. Golushkin againstarted abusing someone or other and then went on to praise the newgeneration. "Such clever chaps they are nowadays! Clever chaps!" Solomininterrupted him by asking about the hopeful young man whom he hadmentioned and where he had discovered him. Golushkin laughed, repeatingonce or twice, "Just wait, you will see! You will see!" and beganquestioning him about his factory and its "rogue" of an owner, towhich Solomin replied in monosyllables. Then Golushkin poured them allchampagne, and bending over to Nejdanov, whispered in his ear, "To therepublic!" and drank off his glass at a gulp. Nejdanov merely puthis lips to the glass; Solomin said that he did not take wine in themorning; and Markelov angrily and resolutely drank his glass to the lastdrop. He was torn by impatience. "Here we are coolly wasting our timeand not tackling the real matter in hand. " He struck a blow on thetable, exclaiming severely, "Gentlemen!" and began to speak. 

But at this moment there entered a sleek, consumptive-looking man with along neck, in a merchant's coat of nankeen, and arms outstretched likea bird. He bowed to the whole company and, approaching Golushkin, communicated something to him in a whisper. 

"In a minute! In a minute!" the latter exclaimed, hurriedly. "Gentlemen, " he added, "I must ask you to excuse me. Vasia, my clerk, has just told me of such a little piece of news" (Golushkin expressedhimself thus purposely by way of a joke) "which absolutely necessitatesmy leaving you for awhile. But I hope, gentlemen, that you will come andhave dinner with me at three o'clock. Then we shall be more free!"

Neither Solomin nor Nejdanov knew what to say, but Markelov repliedinstantly, with that same severity in his face and voice:

"Of course we will come. "

"Thanks very much, " Golushkin said hastily, and bending down toMarkelov, added, "I will give a thousand roubles for the cause in anycase. .. . Don't be afraid of that!"

And so saying, he waved his right hand three times, with the thumb andlittle finger sticking out. "You may rely on me!" he added. 

He accompanied his guests to the door, shouting, "I shall expect you atthree!"

"Very well, " Markelov was the only one to reply. 

"Gentlemen!" Solomin exclaimed as soon as they found themselves in thestreet, "I am going to take a cab and go straight back to the factory. What can we do here until dinnertime? A sheer waste of time, kicking ourheels about, and I am afraid our worthy merchant is like the well-knowngoat, neither good for milk nor for wool. "

"The wool is there right enough, " Markelov observed gloomily. "Hepromised to give us some money. Don't you like him? Unfortunately, wecan't pick and choose. People do not run after us exactly. "

"I am not fastidious, " Solomin said calmly. "I merely thought thatmy presence would not do much good. However, " he added, glancing atNejdanov with a smile, "I will stay if you like. Even death is bearablein good company. "

Markelov raised his head. 

"Supposing we go into the public garden. The weather is lovely. We cansit and look at the people. "

"Come along. "

They moved on; Markelov and Solomin in front, Nejdanov in the rear. 

XVIII

STRANGE was the state of Nejdanov's soul. In the last two days so manynew sensations, new faces. .. . For the first time in his life he had comein close contact with a girl whom in all probability he loved. He waspresent at the beginning of the movement for which in all probabilityhe was to devote his whole life. .. . Well? Was he glad? No. .. . Was hewavering? Was he afraid? Confused? Oh, certainly not! Did he at any ratefeel that straining of the whole being, that longing to be among thefirst ranks, which is always inspired by the first approach of thebattle? Again, No. Did he really believe in this cause? Did he believein his love? "Oh, cursed aesthetic! Sceptic!" his lips murmuredinaudibly. Why this weariness, this disinclination to speak, unless itbe shouting or raving? What is this inner voice that he wishes to drownby his shrieking? But Mariana, this delightful, faithful comrade, this pure, passionate soul, this wonderful girl, does she not love himindeed? And these two beings in front of him, this Markelov and Solomin, whom he as yet knew but little, but to whom he was attracted somuch, were they not excellent types of the Russian people--of Russianlife--and was it not a happiness in itself to be closely connected withthem? Then why this vague, uneasy, gnawing sensation? Why this sadness?If you're such a melancholy dreamer, his lips murmured again, what sortof a revolutionist will you make? You ought to write verses, languish, nurse your own insignificant thoughts and sensations, amuse yourselfwith psychological fancies and subtleties of all sorts, but don't atany rate mistake your sickly, nervous irritability and caprices forthe manly wrath, the honest anger, of a man of convictions! Oh Hamlet!Hamlet! Thou Prince of Denmark! How escape from the shadow of thyspirit? How cease to imitate thee in everything, even to revellingshamelessly in one's own self-depreciation? Just then, as the echo ofhis own thoughts, he heard a familiar squeaky voice exclaim, "Alexai!Alexai! Hamlet of Russia! Is it you I behold?" and raising his eyes, to his great astonishment, saw Paklin standing before him! Paklin, inArcadian attire, consisting of a summer suit of flesh-colour, withouta tie, a large straw hat, trimmed with pale blue ribbon, pushed to theback of his head, and patent shoes!

He limped up to Nejdanov quickly and seized his hand. 

"In the first place, " he began, "although we are in the public garden, we must for the sake of old times embrace and kiss. .. One! two! three!Secondly, I must tell you, that had I not run across you to-day youwould most certainly have seen me tomorrow. I know where you live andhave come to this town expressly to see you. .. How and why I will tellyou later. Thirdly, introduce me to your friends. Tell me briefly whothey are, and tell them who I am, and then let us proceed to enjoyourselves!"

Nejdanov responded to his friend's request, introduced them to eachother, explaining who each was, where he lived, his profession, and soon. 

"Splendid!" Paklin exclaimed. "And now let me lead you all far from thecrowd, though there is not much of it here, certainly, to a secludedseat, where I sit in hours of contemplation enjoying nature. We will geta magnificent view of the governor's house, two striped sentry boxes, three gendarmes, and not a single dog! Don't be too much surprised atthe volubility of my remarks with which I am trying so hard to amuseyou. According to my friends, I am the representative of Russian wit. .. Probably that is why I am lame. "

Paklin conducted the friends to the "secluded seat" and made them sitdown, after having first got rid of two beggar women installed on it. Then the young people proceeded to "exchange ideas, " a rather dulloccupation mostly, particularly at the beginning, and a fruitless onegenerally. 

"Stop a moment!" Paklin exclaimed, turning to Nejdanov, "I must firsttell you why I've come here. You know that I usually take my sister awaysomewhere every summer, and when I heard that you were coming to thisneighbourhood I remembered there were two wonderful creatures living inthis very town, husband and wife, distant relations of ours. .. On ourmother's side. My father came from the lower middle class and my motherwas of noble blood. " (Nejdanov knew this, but Paklin mentioned the factfor the benefit of the others. ) "These people have for a long time beenasking us to come and see them. Why not? I thought. It's just what Iwant. They're the kindest creatures and it will do my sister no end ofgood. What could be better? And so here we are. And really I can'ttell you how jolly it is for us here! They're such dears! Such originaltypes! You must certainly get to know them! What are you doing here?Where are you going to dine? And why did you come here of all places?"

"We are going to dine with a certain Golushkin--a merchant here, "Nejdanov replied. 

"At what time?"

"At three o'clock. "

"Are you going to see him on account. .. On account--"

Paklin looked at Solomin who was smiling and at Markelov who satenveloped in his gloom. 

"Come, Aliosha, tell them--make some sort of Masonic sign. . Tell themnot to be on ceremony with me. .. I am one of you--of your party. "

"Golushkin is also one of us, " Nejdanov observed. 

"Why, that's splendid! It is still a long way off from three o'clock. Suppose we go and see my relatives!"

What an idea! How can. .. 

"Don't be alarmed, I take all the responsibility upon myself. Imagine, it's an oasis! Neither politics, literature, nor anything modern everpenetrates there. The little house is such a squat one, such as onerarely sees nowadays; the very smell in it is antique; the peopleantique, the air antique. .. Whatever you touch is antique, CatherineII. Powder, crinolines, eighteenth century! And the host and hostess. .. Imagine a husband and wife both very old, of the same age, without awrinkle, chubby, round, neat little people, just like two poll-parrots;and kind to stupidity, to saintliness, there is no end to theirkindness! I am told that excessive kindness is often a sign of moralweakness. .. . I cannot enter into these subtleties, but I know that mydear old people are goodness itself. They never had any children, theblessed ones! That is what they call them here in the town; blessedones! They both dress alike, in a sort of loose striped gown, of suchgood material, also a rarity, not to be found nowadays. They areexactly like one another, except that one wears a mob-cap, the other askull-cap, which is trimmed with the same kind of frill, only withoutribbons. If it were not for these ribbons, you would not know one fromthe other, as the husband is clean-shaven. One is called Fomishka, theother Fimishka. I tell you one ought to pay to go and look at them! Theylove one another in the most impossible way; and if you ever go to seethem, they welcome you with open arms. And so gracious; they will showoff all their little parlour tricks to amuse you. But there is onlyone thing they can't stand, and that is smoking, not because they arenonconformists, but because it doesn't agree with them. .. . Of course, nobody smoked in their time. However, to make up for that, they don'tkeep canaries--this bird was also very little known in their day. I'msure you'll agree that that's a comfort at any rate! Well? Will youcome?"

"I really don't know, " Nejdanov began. 

"Wait a moment! I forgot to tell you; their voices, too, are exactlyalike; close your eyes and you can hardly tell which is speaking. Fomishka, perhaps, speaks just a little more expressively. You are aboutto enter on a great undertaking, my dear friends; may be on a terribleconflict. .. Why not, before plunging into the stormy deep, take a dip into--"

"Stagnant water, " Markelov put in. 

"Stagnant if you like, but not putrid. There are ponds in the steppeswhich never get putrid, although there is no stream flowing throughthem, because they have springs at the bottom. My old people have theirsprings flowing in the depths of their hearts, as pure and as freshas can be. The question is this: do you want to see how people liveda hundred or a hundred and fifty years ago? If so, then make haste andfollow me. Or soon the day, the hour will come--it's bound to be thesame hour for them both--when my little parrots will be thrown off theirlittle perches--and everything antique will end with them. The squatlittle house will tumble down and the place where it stood will beovergrown with that which, according to my grandmother, always growsover the spot where man's handiwork has been--that is, nettles, burdock, thistles, wormwood, and dock leaves. The very street will cease tobe--other people will come and never will they see anything like itagain, never, through all the long ages!"

"Well, " Nejdanov exclaimed, "let us go at once!"

"With the greatest of pleasure, " Solomin added. "That sort of thing isnot in my line, still it will be interesting, and if Mr. Paklin reallythinks that we shall not be putting anyone out by our visit. .. Then. .. Why not--"

"You may be at ease on that score!" Paklin exclaimed in his turn. "Theywill be delighted to see you--and nothing more. You need not be onceremony. I told you--they were blessed ones. We will get them to singto us! Will you come too, Mr. Markelov?"

Markelov shrugged his shoulders impatiently. 

"You can hardly leave me here alone! We may as well go, I suppose. " Theyoung people rose from the seat. 

"What a forbidding individual that is you have with you, " Paklinwhispered to Nejdanov, indicating Markelov. "The very image of John theBaptist eating locusts. .. Only locusts, without the honey! But the otheris splendid!" he added, with a nod of the head in Solomin's direction. "What a delightful smile he has! I've noticed that people smile likethat only when they are far above others, but without knowing itthemselves. "

"Are there really such people?" Nejdanov asked. 

"They are scarce, but there are, " Paklin replied. 

XIX

FOMISHKA and Fimishka, otherwise Foma Lavrentievitch and Efimia PavlovnaSubotchev, belonged to one of the oldest and purest branches of theRussian nobility, and were considered to be the oldest inhabitants inthe town of S. They married when very young and settled, a long timeago, in the little wooden ancestral house at the very end of the town. Time seemed to have stood still for them, and nothing "modern" evercrossed the boundaries of their "oasis. " Their means were not great, but their peasants supplied them several times a year with all the livestock and provisions they needed, just as in the days of serfdom, and their bailiff appeared once a year with the rents and a couple ofwoodcocks, supposed to have been shot in the master's forests, of which, in reality, not a trace remained. They regaled him with tea at thedrawing-room door, made him a present of a sheep-skin cap, a pair ofgreen leather mittens, and sent him away with a blessing. 

The Subotchevs' house was filled with domestics and menials just asin days gone by. The old man-servant Kalliopitch, clad in a jacketof extraordinarily stout cloth with a stand-up collar and small steelbuttons, announced, in a sing-song voice, "Dinner is on the table, "and stood dozing behind his mistress's chair as in days of old. Thesideboard was under his charge, and so were all the groceries andpickles. To the question, had he not heard of the emancipation, heinvariably replied: "How can one take notice of every idle piece ofgossip? To be sure the Turks were emancipated, but such a dreadful thinghad not happened to him, thank the Lord!" A girl, Pufka, was kept in thehouse for entertainment, and the old nurse Vassilievna used to come induring dinner with a dark kerchief on her head, and would relate allthe news in her deep voice--about Napoleon, about the war of 1812, aboutAntichrist and white niggers--or else, her chin propped on her hand, with a most woeful expression on her face, she would tell of a dream shehad had, explaining what it meant, or perhaps how she had last read herfortune at cards. The Subotchevs' house was different from all otherhouses in the town. It was built entirely of oak, with perfectly squarewindows, the double casements for winter use were never removed all theyear round. It contained numerous little ante-rooms, garrets, closets, and box-rooms, little landings with balustrades, little statues oncarved wooden pillars, and all kinds of back passages and sculleries. There was a hedge right in front and a garden at the back, in whichthere was a perfect nest of out-buildings: store rooms and cold-storerooms, barns, cellars and ice-cellars; not that there were many goodsstored in them--some of them, in fact, were in an extremely delapidatedcondition--but they had been there in olden days and were consequentlyallowed to remain. 

The Subotchevs had only two ancient shaggy saddle horses, one of which, called the Immovable, had turned grey from old age. They were harnessedseveral times a month to an extraordinary carriage, known to the wholetown, which bore a faint resemblance to a terrestrial globe with aquarter of it cut away in front, and was upholstered inside with someforeign, yellowish stuff, covered with a pattern of huge dots, lookingfor all the world like warts. The last yard of this stuff must havebeen woven in Utrecht or Lyons in the time of the Empress Elisabeth! TheSubotchev's coachman, too, was old--an ancient, ancient old man with aconstant smell of tar and cart-oil about him. His beard began just belowthe eyes, while the eyebrows fell in little cascades to meet it. He wascalled Perfishka, and was extremely slow in his movements. It took himat least five minutes to take a pinch of snuff, two minutes to fastenthe whip in his girdle, and two whole hours to harness the Immovablealone. If when out driving in their carriage the Subotchevs were evercompelled to go the least bit up or down hill, they would become quiteterrified, would cling to the straps, and both cry aloud, "Oh Lord. .. Give. . The horses. .. The horses. .. The strength of Samson. .. And makeus. .. As light as a feather!"

The Subotchevs were regarded by everyone in the town as very eccentric, almost mad, and indeed they too felt that they were not in keeping withmodern times. This, however, did not grieve them very much, and theyquietly continued to follow the manner of life in which they had beenborn and bred and married. One custom of that time, however, did notcling to them; from their earliest childhood they had never punishedany of their servants. If one of them turned out to be a thief or adrunkard, then they bore with him for a long time, as one bears with badweather, and when their patience was quite exhausted they would get ridof him by passing him on to someone else. "Let others bear with hima little, " they would say. But any such misfortune rarely happened tothem, so rarely that it became an epoch in their lives. They wouldsay, for instance, "Oh, it was long ago; it happened when we had thatimpudent Aldoshka with us, " or "When grandfather's fur cap withthe fox's tail was stolen!" Such caps were still to be found at theSubotchevs'. Another distinguishing characteristic of the old worldwas missing in them; neither Fomishka nor Fimishka were very religious. Fomishka was even a follower of Voltaire, while Fimishka had a mortaldread of the clergy and believed them to be possessed of the evil eye. "As soon as a priest comes into my house the cream turns sour!" she usedto say. They rarely went to church and fasted in the Catholic fashion, that is, ate eggs, butter, and milk. This was known in the town and didnot, of course, add to their reputation. But their kindness conqueredeverybody; and although the Subotchevs were laughed at and called cranksand blessed ones, still they were respected by everyone. No one caredto visit them, however, but they were little concerned about this, too. They were never dull when in each other's company, were never apart, andnever desired any other society. 

Neither Fomishka nor Fimishka had ever been ill, and if one or theother ever felt the slightest indisposition they would both drink someconcoction made of lime-flower, rub warm oil on their stomachs, or drophot candle grease on the soles of their feet and the little ailmentwould soon pass over. They spent their days exactly alike. They got uplate, drank chocolate in tiny cups shaped like small mortars (tea, theydeclared, came into fashion after their time), and sat oppositeone another chatting (they were never at a loss for a subject ofconversation!), or read out of "Pleasant Recreations", "The World'sMirror", or "Amides", or turned over the leaves of an old album, boundin red morocco, with gilt edges. This album had once belonged, as theinscription showed, to a certain Madame Barbe de Kabyline. How andwhy it had come into their possession they did not know. It containedseveral French and a great many Russian poems and prose extracts, ofwhich the following reflections on Cicero form a fair example--"Thedisposition in which Cicero undertook the office of quaestor may begathered from the following: Calling upon the gods to testify to thepurity of his sentiments in every rank with which he had hitherto beenhonoured, he considered himself bound by the most sacred bonds to thefulfilment of this one, and denied himself the indulgence, not only ofsuch pleasures as are forbidden by law, but refrained even from suchlight amusements which are considered indispensable by all. " Belowwas written, "Composed in Siberia in hunger and cold. " An equally goodspecimen was a poem entitled "Tirsis", which ran like this--

The universe is steeped in calm, The delightful sparkling dew Soothingnature like a balm Gives to her, her life anew. Tersis alone with achingheart, Is torn by sadness and dismay, When dear Aneta doth depart Whatis there to make him gay?

And the impromptu composition of a certain captain who had visited theplace in the year 1790, dated May 6th--

N'er shall I forget thee, Village that to love I've grown, But I evershall regret thee And the hours so quickly flown, Hours which I washonoured in Spending with your owner's kin, The five dearest days of mylife will hold Passed amongst most worthy people, Merry ladies, youngand old, And other interesting people. 

On the last page of the album, instead of verses, there were variousrecipes for remedies against stomach troubles, spasms, and worms. TheSubotchevs dined exactly at twelve o'clock and only ate old-fashioneddishes: curd fritters, pickled cabbage, soups, fruit jellies, mincedchicken with saffron, stews, custards, and honey. They took anafter-dinner nap for an hour, not longer, and on waking up would sitopposite one another again, drinking bilberry wine or an effervescentdrink called "forty-minds, " which nearly always squirted out ofthe bottle, affording them great amusement, much to the disgust ofKalliopitch, who had to wipe up the mess afterwards. He grumbled atthe cook and housekeeper as if they had invented this dreadful drink onpurpose. "What pleasure does it give one?" he asked; "it only spoils thefurniture. " Then the old people again read something, or got the dwarfPufka to entertain them, or sang old-fashioned duets. Their voiceswere exactly alike, rather high-pitched, not very strong or steady, andsomewhat husky, especially after their nap, but not without a certainamount of charm. Or, if need be, they played at cards, always the sameold games--cribbage, ecarte, or double-dummy whist. Then the samovarmade its appearance. The only concession they made to the spirit of theage was to drink tea in the evening, though they always considered it anindulgence, and were convinced that the nation was deteriorating, owingto the use of this "Chinese herb. " On the whole, they refrained fromcriticising modern times or from exulting their own. They had lived likethis all their lives, but that others might live in a different and evenbetter way they were quite willing to admit, so long as they were notcompelled to conform to it. At seven o'clock Kalliopitch produced theinevitable supper of cold hash, and at nine the high striped feather-bedreceived their rotund little bodies in its soft embrace, and a calm, untroubled sleep soon descended upon their eyelids. Everything in thelittle house became hushed; the little lamp before the icon glowed andglimmered, the funny innocent little pair slept the sound sleep of thejust, amidst the fragrant scent of musk and the chirping of the cricket. 

To these two odd little people, or poll-parrots as Paklin called them, who were taking care of his sister, he now conducted his friends. 

Paklin's sister was a clever girl with a fairly attractive face. She hadwonderfully beautiful eyes, but her unfortunate deformity had completelybroken her spirit, deprived her of self-confidence, joyousness, made hermistrustful and even spiteful. She had been given the unfortunate nameof Snandulia, and to Paklin's request that she should be re-christenedSophia, she replied that it was just as it should be; a hunchback oughtto be called Snandulia; so she stuck to her strange name. She was anexcellent musician and played the piano very well. "Thanks to my longfingers, " she would say, not without a touch of bitterness. "Hunchbacksalways have fingers like that. "

The visitors came upon Fomishka and Fimishka at the very minute whenthey had awakened from their afternoon nap and were drinking bilberrywine. 

"We are going into the eighteenth century!" Paklin exclaimed as theycrossed the threshold of the Subotchevs' house. 

And really they were confronted by the eighteenth century in the veryhall, with its low bluish screens, ornamented with black silhouettescut out of paper, of powdered ladies and gentlemen. Silhouettes, firstintroduced by Lavater, were much in vogue in the eighties of lastcentury. 

The sudden appearance of such a large number of guests--four all atonce--produced quite a sensation in the usually quiet house. A hurriedsound of feet, both shod and unshod, was heard, several women thrusttheir heads through the door and instantly drew them back again, someone was pushed, another groaned, a third giggled, someone whisperedexcitedly, "Be quiet, do!"

At last Kalliopitch made his appearance in his old coat, and opening thedrawing-room door announced in a loud voice:

"Sila Samsonitch with some other gentlemen, sir!"

The Subotchevs were less disturbed than their servants, although theeruption of four full-sized men into their drawing-room, spacious thoughit was, did in fact surprise them somewhat. But Paklin soon reassuredthem, introducing Nejdanov, Solomin, and Markelov in turn, as good quietpeople, not "governmental. "

Fomishka and Fimishka had a horror of governmental, that is to say, official people. 

Snandulia, who appeared at her brother's request, was far more disturbedand agitated than the old couple. 

They asked, both together and in exactly the same words, if their guestswould be pleased to partake of some tea, chocolate, or an effervescentdrink with jam, but learning that they did not require anything, havingjust lunched with the merchant Golushkin and that they were returningthere to dinner, they ceased pressing them, and, folding their armsin exactly the same manner across their stomachs, they entered intoconversation. It was a little slow at first, but soon grew livelier. 

Paklin amused them very much by relating the well known Gogol anecdoteabout a superintendent of police, who managed to push his way into achurch already so packed with people that a pin could scarcely drop, and about a pie which turned out to be no other than this samesuperintendent himself. The old people laughed till the tears rolleddown their cheeks. They had exactly the same shrill laugh and bothwent red in the face from the effort. Paklin noticed that people of theSubotchev type usually went into fits of laughter over quotationsfrom Gogol, but as his object at the present moment was not so muchin amusing them as in showing them off to his friends, he changed histactics and soon managed to put them in an excellent humour. 

Fomishka produced a very ancient carved wooden snuff-box and showed itto the visitors with great pride. At one time one could have discernedabout thirty-six little human figures in various attitudes carved on itslid, but they were so erased as to be scarcely visible now. Fomishka, however, still saw them and could even count them. He would point to oneand say, "Just look! this one is staring out of the window. .. . He hasthrust his head out!" but the place indicated by his fat little fingerwith the nail raised was just as smooth as the rest of the box. He thenturned their attention to an oil painting hanging on the wall just abovehis head. It represented a hunter in profile, galloping at full speed ona bay horse, also in profile, over a snow plain. The hunter was clad ina tall white sheepskin hat with a pale blue point, a tunic ofcamel's hair edged with velvet, and a girdle wrought in gold. A gloveembroidered in silk was gracefully tucked into the girdle, and a daggerchased in black and silver hung at the side. In one hand the plump, youthful hunter carried an enormous horn, ornamented with red tassels, and the reins and whip in the other. The horse's four legs were allsuspended in the air, and on every one of them the artist had carefullypainted a horseshoe and even indicated the nails. "Look, " Fomishkaobserved, pointing with the same fat little finger to four semi-circularspots on the white ground, close to the horse's legs, "he has even putthe snow prints in!" Why there were only four of these prints and notany to be seen further back, on this point Fomishka was silent. 

"This was I!" he added after a pause, with a modest smile. 

"Really!" Nejdanov exclaimed, "were you ever a hunting man?"

"Yes. I was for a time. Once the horse threw me at full gallop and Iinjured my kurpey. Fimishka got frightened and forbade me; so I havegiven it up since then. "

"What did you injure?" Nejdanov asked. 

"My kurpey, " Fomishka repeated, lowering his voice. 

The visitors looked at one another. No one knew what kurpey meant; atleast, Markelov knew that the tassel on a Cossack or Circassian cap wascalled a kurpey, but then how could Fomishka have injured that? But noone dared to question him further. 

"Well, now that you have shown off, " Fimishka remarked suddenly, "I willshow off too. " And going up to a small bonheur du jour, as they used tocall an old-fashioned bureau, on tiny, crooked legs, with a round lidwhich fitted into the back of it somewhere when opened, she took out aminiature in water colour, in an oval bronze frame, of a perfectly nakedlittle child of four years old with a quiver over her shoulders fastenedacross the chest with pale blue ribbons, trying the points of the arrowswith the tip of her little finger. The child was all smiles and curlsand had a slight squint. 

"And that was I, " she said. 

"Really?

"Yes, as a child. When my father was alive a Frenchman used to comeand see him, such a nice Frenchman too! He painted that for my father'sbirthday. Such a nice man! He used to come and see us often. He wouldcome in, make such a pretty courtesy and kiss your hand, and when goingaway would kiss the tips of his own fingers so prettily, and bow tothe right, to the left, backwards and forwards! He was such a niceFrenchman!"

The guests praised his work; Paklin even declared that he saw a certainlikeness. 

Here Fomishka began to express his views on the modern French, sayingthat they had become very wicked nowadays!

"What makes you think so, Foma Lavrentievitch?"

"Look at the awful names they give themselves nowadays!"

"What, for instance?"

"Nogent Saint Lorraine, for instance! A regular brigand's name!"

Fomishka asked incidentally who reigned in Paris now, and when told thatit was Napoleon, was surprised and pained at the information. 

"How?. .. Such an old man--" he began and stopped, looking round inconfusion. 

Fomishka had but a poor knowledge of French, and read Voltaire intranslation; he always kept a translated manuscript of "Candide" in thebible box at the head of his bed. He used to come out with expressionslike: "This, my dear, is Jausse parquet, " meaning suspicious, untrue. He was very much laughed at for this, until a certain learned Frenchmantold him that it was an old parliamentary expression employed in hiscountry until the year 1789. 

As the conversation turned upon France and the French, Fimishka resolvedto ask something that had been very much on her mind. She first thoughtof addressing herself to Markelov, but he looked too forbidding, so sheturned to Solomin, but no! He seemed to her such a plain sort of person, not likely to know French at all, so she turned to Nejdanov. 

"I should like to ask you something, if I may, " she began; "excuse me, my kinsman Sila Samsonitch makes fun of me and my woman's ignorance. "

"What is it?"

"Supposing one wants to ask in French, 'What is it?' must one say'Kese-kese-kese-la?'"

"Yes. "

"And can one also say 'Kese-kese-la?'

"Yes. "

"And simply 'Kese-la?'"

"Yes, that's right. "

"And does it mean the same thing?"

"Yes, it does. "

Fimishka thought awhile, then threw up her arms. 

"Well, Silushka, " she exclaimed; "I am wrong and you are right. Butthese Frenchmen. .. How smart they are!"

Paklin began begging the old people to sing them some ballad. Theywere both surprised and amused at the idea, but consented readily oncondition that Snandulia accompanied them on the harpsichord. In acorner of the room there stood a little spinet, which not one of themhad noticed before. Snandulia sat down to it and struck several chords. Nejdanov had never heard such sour, toneless, tingling, jangling notes, but the old people promptly struck up the ballad, "Was it to Mourn. "

Fomisha began--

 "In love God gave a heart Of burning passion to inspire That loving heart with warm desire. " "But there is agony in bliss"

Fimishka chimed in. 

 "And passion free from pain there is, Ah! where, where? tell me, tell me this, "

 "Ah! where, where? Tell me, tell me this, "

Fomisha put in. 

 "Ah! where, where? tell me, tell me this, "

Fimishka repeated. 

 "Nowhere in all the world, nowhere, Love bringeth grief and black despair, "

they sang together, "And that, love's gift is everywhere, "

Fomisha sang out alone. 

"Bravo!" Paklin exclaimed. "We have had the first verse, now please singus the second. "

"With the greatest of pleasure, " Fomishka said, "but what about thetrill, Snandulia Samsonovna? After my verse there must be a trill. "

"Very well, I will play your trill, " Snandulia replied. Fomishka beganagain--

 "Has ever lover loved true And kept his heart from grief and rue? He loveth but to weep anew"

and then Fimishka--

 "Yea--hearts that love at last are riven As ships that hopelessly have striven For life. To what end were they given?"

"To what end were they given?"

Fomishka warbled out and waited for Snandulia to play the trill. 

 "To what end were they given?"

he repeated, and then they struck up together--

 "Then take, Oh God, the heart away, Away, away, take hearts away, Away, away, away today. "

"Bravo! Bravo!" the company exclaimed, all with exception of Markelov. 

"I wonder they don't feel like clowns?" Nejdanov thought. "Perhaps theydo, who knows? They no doubt think there is no harm in it and may beeven amusing to some people. If one looks at it in that light, they arequite right! A thousand times right!"

Under the influence of these reflections he began paying compliments tothe host and hostess, which they acknowledged with a courtesy, performedwhile sitting in their chairs. At this moment Pufka the dwarf and NurseVassilievna made their appearance from the adjoining room (a bedroom orperhaps the maids' room) from whence a great bustle and whispering hadbeen going on for some time. Pufka began squealing and making hideousgrimaces, while the nurse first quietened her, then egged her on. 

Solomin's habitual smile became even broader, while Markelov, who hadbeen for some time showing signs of impatience, suddenly turned toFomishka:

"I did not expect that you, " he began in his severe manner, "with yourenlightened mind--I've heard that you are a follower of Voltaire--couldbe amused with what ought to be an object for compassion--withdeformity!" Here he remembered Paklin's sister and could have bitten histongue off. 

Fomishka went red in the face and muttered: "You see it is not myfault. .. She herself--"

Pufka simply flew at Markelov. 

"How dare you insult our masters?" she screamed out in her lispingvoice. "What is it to you that they took me in, brought me up, and gaveme meat and drink? Can't you bear to see another's good fortune, eh?Who asked you to come here? You fusty, musty, black-faced villain witha moustache like a beetle's!" Here Pufka indicated with her thick shortfingers what his moustache was like; while Nurse Vassilievna's toothlessmouth was convulsed with laughter, re-echoed in the adjoining room. 

"I am not in a position to judge you, " Markelov went on. "To protect thehomeless and deformed is a very praiseworthy work, but I must say thatto live in ease and luxury, even though without injury to others, notlifting a finger to help a fellow-creature, does not require a greatdeal of goodness. I, for one, do not attach much importance to that sortof virtue!"

Here Pufka gave forth a deafening howl. She did not understand a word ofwhat Markelov had said, but she felt that the "black one" was scolding, and how dared he! Vassilievna also muttered something, while Fomishkafolded his hands across his breast and turned to his wife. "Fimishka, mydarling, " he began, almost in tears; "do you hear what the gentleman issaying? We are both wicked sinners, Pharisees. .. . We are living onthe fat of the land, oh! oh! oh! We ought to be turned out into thestreet. .. With a broom in our hands to work for our living! Oh! oh!"

At these mournful words Pufka howled louder than ever, while Fimishkascrewed up her eyes, opened her lips, drew in a deep breath, ready toretaliate, to speak. 

God knows how it would have ended had not Paklin intervened. 

"What is the matter?" he began, gesticulating with his hands andlaughing loudly. "I wonder you are not ashamed of yourselves! Mr. Markelov only meant it as a joke. He has such a solemn face that itsounded a little severe and you took him seriously! Calm yourself!Efimia Pavlovna, darling, we are just going, won't you tell us ourfortunes at cards? You are such a good hand at it. Snandulia, do get thecards, please!"

Fimishka glanced at her husband, who seemed completely reassured, so shetoo quieted down. 

"I have quite forgotten how to tell fortunes, my dear. It is such a longtime since I held the cards in my hand. "

But quite of her own accord she took an extraordinary, ancient pack ofcards out of Snandalia's hand. 

"Whose fortune shall I tell?"

"Why everybody's, of course!" Paklin exclaimed. "What a dear oldthing. .. .. .. .. You can do what you like with her, " he thought. "Tell usall our fortunes, granny dear, " he said aloud. "Tell us our fates, ourcharacters, our futures, everything!"

She began shuffling the cards, but threw them down suddenly. 

"I don't need cards!" she exclaimed. "I know all your characterswithout that, and as the character, so is the fate. This one, " she said, pointing to Solomin, "is a cool, steady sort of man. That one, " shesaid, pointing threateningly at Markelov, "is a fiery, disastrous man. "(Pufka put her tongue out at him. ) "And as for you, " she looked atPaklin, "there is no need to tell you--you know quite well that you'renothing but a giddy goose! And that one--"

She pointed to Nejdanov, but hesitated. 

"Well?" he asked; "do please tell me what sort of a man I am. "

"What sort of a man are you, " Fimishka repeated slowly. "You arepitiable--that is all!"

"Pitiable! But why?"

"Just so. I pity you--that is all I can say. "

"But why do you pity me?"

"Because my eyes tell me so. Do you think I am a fool? I am clevererthan you, in spite of your red hair. I pity you--that is all!"

There was a brief silence--they all looked at one another, but did notutter a word. 

"Well, goodbye, dear friends, " Paklin exclaimed. "We must have boredyou to death with our long visit. It is time for these gentlemen to begoing, and I am going with them. Goodbye, thanks for your kindness. "

"Goodbye, goodbye, come again. Don't be on ceremony, " Fomishka andFimishka exclaimed together. Then Fomishka suddenly drawled out:

"Many, many, many years of life. Many--"

"Many, many, " Kalliopitch chimed in quite unexpectedly, when opening thedoor for the young men to pass out. 

The whole four suddenly found themselves in the street before the squatlittle house, while Pufka's voice was heard from within:

"You fools!" she cried. "You fools!"

Paklin laughed aloud, but no one responded. Markelov looked at eachin turn, as though he expected to hear some expression of indignation. Solomin alone smiled his habitual smile. 

XX

"WELL, " Paklin was the first to begin, "we have been to the eighteenthcentury, now let us fly to the twentieth! Golushkin is such a go-aheadman that one can hardly count him as belonging to the nineteenth. "

"Why, do you know him?"

"What a question! Did you know my poll-parrots?"

"No, but you introduced us. "

"Well, then, introduce me. I don't suppose you have any secrets totalk over, and Golushkin is a hospitable man. You will see; he will bedelighted to see a new face. We are not very formal here in S. "

"Yes, " Markelov muttered, "I have certainly noticed an absence offormality about the people here. "

Paklin shook his head. 

"I suppose that was a hit for me. .. I can't help it. I deserve it, nodoubt. But may I suggest, my new friend, that you throw off those sad, oppressive thoughts, no doubt due to your bilious temperament. .. Andchiefly--"

"And you sir, my new friend, " Markelov interrupted him angrily, "allowme to tell you, by way of a warning, that I have never in my life beengiven to joking, least of all today! And what do you know about mytemperament, I should like to know? It strikes me that it is not so verylong since we first set eyes on one another. "

"There, there, don't get angry and don't swear. I believe you withoutthat, " Paklin exclaimed. "Oh you, " he said, turning to Solomin, "you, whom the wise Fimishka called a cool sort of man, and there certainly issomething restful about you--do you think I had the slightest intentionof saying anything unpleasant to anyone or of joking out of place?I only suggested going with you to Golushkin's. Besides, I'm such aharmless person; it's not my fault that Mr. Markelov has a biliouscomplexion. "

Solomin first shrugged one shoulder, then the other. It was a habit ofhis when he did not quite know what to say. 

"I don't think, " he said at last, "that you could offend anyone, Mr. Paklin, or that you wished to--and why should you not come with usto Mr. Golushkin? We shall, no doubt, spend our time there just aspleasantly as we did at your kinsman's--and just as profitably mostlikely. "

Paklin threatened him with his finger. 

"Oh! I see, you can be wicked too if you like! However, you are alsocoming to Golushkin's, are you not?"

"Of course I am. I have wasted the day as it is. "

"Well then, en avant, marchons! To the twentieth century! To thetwentieth century! Nejdanov, you are an advanced man, lead the way!"

"Very well, come along; only don't keep on repeating the same jokes lestwe should think you are running short. "

"I have still enough left for you, my dear friends, " Paklin said gailyand went on ahead, not by leaping, but by limping, as he said. 

"What an amusing man!" Solomin remarked as he was walking alongarm-in-arm with Nejdanov; "if we should ever be sent to Siberia, whichHeaven forbid, there will be someone to entertain us at any rate. "

Markelov walked in silence behind the others. 

Meanwhile great preparations were going on at Golushkin's to producea "chic" dinner. (Golushkin, as a man of the highest European culture, kept a French cook, who had formerly been dismissed from a club fordirtiness. ) A nasty, greasy fish soup was prepared, various pates chaudsand fricasses and, most important of all, several bottles of champagnehad been procured and put into ice. 

The host met the young people with his characteristic awkwardness, bustle, and much giggling. He was delighted to see Paklin as the latterhad predicted and asked of him--

"Is he one of us? Of course he is! I need not have asked, " he said, without waiting for a reply. He began telling them how he had just comefrom that "old fogey" the governor, and how the latter worried him todeath about some sort of charity institution. It was difficult to saywhat satisfied Golushkin most, the fact that he was received at thegovernor's, or that he was able to abuse that worth before theseadvanced, young men. Then he introduced them to the promised proselyte, who turned out to be no other than the sleek consumptive individualwith the long neck whom they had seen in the morning, Vasia, Golushkin'sclerk. "He hasn't much to say, " Golushkin declared, "but is devotedheart and soul to our cause. " To this Vasia bowed, blushed, blinked hiseyes, and grinned in such a manner that it was impossible to say whetherhe was merely a vulgar fool or an out-and-out knave and blackguard. 

"Well, gentlemen, let us go to dinner, " Golushkin exclaimed. 

They partook of various kinds of salt fish to give them an appetite andsat down to the table. Directly after the soup, Golushkin ordered thechampagne to be brought up, which came out in frozen little lumps ashe poured it into the glasses. "For our . .. Our enterprise!" Golushkinexclaimed, winking at the servant, as much as to say, "One must becareful in the presence of strangers. " The proselyte Vasia continuedsilent, and though he sat on the very edge of his chair and conductedhimself generally with a servility quite out of keeping with theconvictions to which, according to his master, he was devoted body andsoul, yet gulped down the wine with an amazing greediness. The othersmade up for his silence, however, that is, Golushkin and Paklin, especially Paklin. Nejdanov was inwardly annoyed, Markelov angry andindignant, just as indignant, though in a different way, as he had beenat the Subotchevs'; Solomin was observant. 

Paklin was in high spirits and delighted Golushkin with his sharp, ready wit. The latter had not the slightest suspicion that the "littlecripple" every now and again whispered to Nejdanov, who happened to besitting beside him, the most unflattering remarks at his, Golushkin's, expense. He thought him "a simple sort of fellow" who might bepatronised; that was probably why he liked him. Had Paklin been sittingnext him he would no doubt have poked him in the ribs or slapped him onthe shoulder, but as it was, he merely contented himself by nodding andwinking in his direction. Between him and Nejdanov sat Markelov, like adark cloud, and then Solomin. Golushkin went into convulsions at everyword Paklin said, laughed on trust in advance, holding his sides andshowing his bluish gums. Paklin soon saw what was expected of him andbegan abusing everything (it being an easy thing for him), everythingand everybody; conservatives, liberals, officials, lawyers, administrators, landlords, county councils and district councils, Moscowand St. Petersburg. "Yes, yes, yes, " Golushkin put in, "that's justhow it is! For instance, our mayor here is a perfect ass! A hopelessblockhead! I tell him one thing after another, but he doesn't understanda single word; just like our governor!"

"Is your governor a fool then?" Paklin asked. 

"I told you he was an ass!"

"By the way, does he speak in a hoarse voice or through his nose?"

"What do you mean?" Golushkin asked somewhat bewildered. 

"Why, don't you know? In Russia all our important civilians speak ina hoarse voice and our great army men speak through the nose. Only ourvery highest dignitaries do both at the same time. "

Golushkin roared with laughter till the tears rolled down his cheeks. 

"Yes, yes, " he spluttered, "if he talks through his nose. . Then he's anarmy man!"

"You idiot!" Paklin thought to himself. 

"Everything is rotten in this country, wherever you may turn!" he bawledout after a pause. "Everything is rotten, everything!

"My dear Kapiton Andraitch, " Paklin began suggestively (he had justasked Nejdanov in an undertone, "Why does he throw his arms about as ifhis coat were too tight for him?"), "my dear Kapiton Andraitch, believeme, half measures are of no use!"

"Who talks of half measures!" Golushkin shouted furiously (he hadsuddenly ceased laughing), "there's only one thing to be done; it mustall be pulled up by the roots: Vasia, drink!"

"I am drinking, Kapiton Andraitch, " the clerk observed, emptying a glassdown his throat. 

Golushkin followed his suit. 

"I wonder he doesn't burst!" Paklin whispered to Nejdanov. 

"He's used to it!" the latter replied. 

But the clerk was not the only one who drank. Little by little the wineaffected them all. Nejdanov, Markelov, and even Solomin began takingpart in the conversation. 

At first disdainfully, as if annoyed with himself for doing so, for notkeeping up his character, Nejdanov began to hold forth. He maintainedthat the time had now come to leave off playing with words; that thetime had con e for "action, " that they were now on sure ground! Andthen, quite unconscious of the fact that he was contradicting himself, he began to demand of them to show him what real existing elements theyhad to rely on, saying that as far as he could see society was utterlyunsympathetic towards them, and the people were as ignorant as could be. Nobody made any objection to what he said, not because there was nothingto object to, but because everyone was talking on his own account. Markelov hammered out obstinately in his hoarse, angry, monotonous voice("just as if he were chopping cabbage, " Paklin remarked). Precisely whathe was talking about no one could make out, but the word "artillery"could be heard in a momentary hush. He was no doubt referring to thedefects he had discovered in its organisation. Germans and adjutantswere also brought in. Solomin remarked that there were two ways ofwaiting, waiting and doing nothing and waiting while pushing thingsahead at the same time. 

"We don't want moderates, " Markelov said angrily. 

"The moderates have so far been working among the upper classes, "Solomin remarked, "and we must go for the lower. "

"We don't want it! damnation! We don't want it!" Golushkin bawled outfuriously. "We must do everything with one blow! With one blow, I say!"

"What is the use of extreme measures? It's like jumping out of thewindow. "

"And I'll jump too, if necessary!" Golushkin shouted. "I'll jump! andso will Vasia! I've only to tell him and he'll jump! eh, Vasia? You'lljump, eh?"

The clerk finished his glass of champagne. 

"Where you go, Kapiton Andraitch, there I follow. I shouldn't dare dootherwise. "

"You had better not, or I'll make mincemeat of you!"

Soon a perfect babel followed. 

Like the first flakes of snow whirling round and round in the mildautumn air, so words began flying in all directions in Golushkin's hot, stuffy dining-room; all kinds of words, rolling and tumbling over oneanother: progress, government, literature, the taxation question, thechurch question, the woman question; the law-court question, realism, nihilism, communism, international, clerical, liberal, capital, administration, organisation, association, and even crystallisation!It was just what Golushkin wanted; this uproar seemed to him the realthing. He was triumphant. "Look at us! out of the way or I'll knockyou on the head! Kapiton Golushkin is coming!" At last the clerk Vasiabecame so tipsy that he began to giggle and talk to his plate. Allat once he jumped up shouting wildly, "What sort of devil is thisPROgymnasium?"

Golushkin sprang up too, and throwing back his hot, flushed face, onwhich an expression of vulgar self-satisfaction was curiously mingledwith a feeling of terror, a secret misgiving, he bawled out, "I'llsacrifice another thousand! Get it for me, Vasia!" To which Vasiareplied, "All right!"

Just then Paklin, pale and perspiring (he had been drinking no less thanthe clerk during the last quarter of an hour), jumped up from his seatand, waving both his arms above his head, shouted brokenly, "Sacrifice!Sacrifice! What pollution of such a holy word! Sacrifice! No one dareslive up to thee, no one can fulfill thy commands, certainly not one ofus here--and this fool, this miserable money-bag opens its belly, letsforth a few of its miserable roubles, and shouts 'Sacrifice!' And wantsto be thanked, expects a wreath of laurels, the mean scoundrel!"

Golushkin either did not hear or did not understand what Paklin wassaying, or perhaps took it only as a joke, because he shouted again, "Yes, a thousand roubles! Kapiton Golushkin keeps his word!" And sosaying he thrust his hand into a side pocket. "Here is the money, take it! Tear it to pieces! Remember Kapiton!" When under excitementGolushkin invariably talked of himself in the third person, as childrenoften do. Nejdanov picked up the notes which Golushkin had flung on thetable covered with wine stains. Since there was nothing more to waitfor, and the hour was getting late, they rose, took their hats, anddeparted. 

They all felt giddy as soon as they got out into the fresh air, especially Paklin. 

"Well, where are we going to now?" he asked with an effort. 

"I don't know were you are going, but I'm going home, " Solomin replied. 

"Back to the factory?"

"Yes. "

"Now, at night, and on foot?"

"Why not? I don't think there are any wolves or robbers here--and mylegs are quite strong enough to carry me. It's cooler walking at night. "

"But hang it all, it's four miles!"

"I wouldn't mind if it were more. Good-bye, gentlemen. " Solomin buttonedhis coat, pulled his cap over his forehead, lighted a cigar, and walkeddown the street with long strides. 

"And where are you going to?" Paklin asked, turning to Nejdanov. 

"I'm going home with him. " He pointed to Markelov, who was standingmotionless, his hands crossed on his breast. "We have horses and aconveyance. "

"Very well. .. . And I'm going to Fomishka's and Fimishka's oasis. Anddo you know what I should like to say? There's twaddle here and twaddlethere, only that twaddle, the twaddle of the eighteenth century, isnearer to the Russian character than the twaddle of the twentiethcentury. Goodbye, gentlemen. I'm drunk, so don't be offended at what Isay, only a better woman than my sister Snandulia. .. Is not to be foundon God's earth, although she is a hunchback and called Snandulia. That'show things are arranged in this world! She ought to have such a name. Doyou know who Saint Snandulia was? She was a virtuous woman who used tovisit prisons and heal the wounds of the sick. But. .. Goodbye! goodbye, Nejdanov, thou man to be pitied! And you, officer. .. Ugh! misanthrope!goodbye!" He dragged himself away, limping and swaying from side toside, towards the oasis, while Markelov and Nejdanov sought out theposting inn where they had left their conveyance, ordered the horses tobe harnessed, and half an hour later were driving along the high road. 

XXI

THE sky was overcast with low-hanging clouds, and though it was lightenough to see the cart-ruts winding along the road, still to the rightand left no separate object could be distinguished, everything blendingtogether into dark, heavy masses. It was a dim, unsettled kind of night;the wind blew in terrific gusts, bringing with it the scent of rain andwheat, which covered the broad fields. When they passed the oak whichserved as a signpost and turned down a by-road, driving became moredifficult, the narrow track being quite lost at times. The coach movedalong at a slower pace. 

"I hope we're not going to lose our way!" Nejdanov remarked; he had beenquite silent until then. 

"I don't think so, " Markelov responded. "Two misfortunes never happen inone day. "

"But what was the first misfortune?"

"A day wasted for nothing. Is that of no importance?"

"Yes. .. Certainly. .. And then this Golushkin! We shouldn't have drank somuch wine. My head is simply splitting. "

"I wasn't thinking of Golushkin. We got some money from him at any rate, so our visit wasn't altogether wasted. "

"But surely you're not really sorry that Paklin took us to his. .. Whatdid he call them. .. Poll-parrots?

"As for that, there's nothing to be either sorry or glad about. I'm notinterested in such people. That wasn't the misfortune I was referringto. "

"What was it then?"

Markelov made no reply, but withdrew himself a little further into hiscorner, as if he were muffling himself up. Nejdanov could not see hisface very clearly, only his moustache stood out in a straight blackline, but he had felt ever since the morning that there was something inMarkelov that was best left alone, some mysteriously unknown worry. 

"I say, Sergai Mihailovitch, " Nejdanov began, "do you really attach anyimportance to Mr. Kisliakov's letters that you gave me today? They areutter nonsense, if you'll excuse my saying so. "

Markelov drew himself up. 

"In the first place, " he began angrily, "I don't agree with you aboutthese letters--I find them extremely interesting. .. And conscientious!In the second place, Kisliakov works very hard and, what is more, he isin earnest; he BELIEVES in our cause, believes in the revolution! AndI must say that you, Alexai Dmitritch, are very luke-warm--YOU don'tbelieve in our cause!"

"What makes you think so?" Nejdanov asked slowly. 

"It is easy to see from your very words, from your whole behaviour. Today, for instance, at Golushkin's, who said that he failed to see anyelements that we could rely on? You! Who demanded to have them pointedout to him? You again! And when that friend of yours, that grinningbuffoon, Mr. Paklin, stood up and declared with his eyes raised toheaven that not one of us was capable of self-sacrifice, who approved ofit and nodded to him encouragingly? Wasn't it you? Say what you like ofyourself. .. Think what you like of yourself, you know best. .. That isyour affair, but I know people who could give up everything that isbeautiful in life--even love itself--to serve their convictions, to betrue to them! Well, YOU. .. Couldn't have done that, today at any rate!"

"Today? Why not today in particular?"

"Oh, don't pretend, for heaven's sake, you happy Don Juan, youmyrtle-crowned lover!" Markelov shouted, quite forgetting the coachman, who, though he did not turn round on the box, must have heard everyword. It is true the coachman was at that moment more occupied with theroad than with what the gentlemen were saying behind him. He loosenedthe shaft-horse carefully, though somewhat nervously, she shook herhead, backed a little, and went down a slope which had no business thereat all. 

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand you, " Nejdanov observed. 

Markelov gave a forced, malicious laugh. 

"So you don't understand me! ha, ha, ha! I know everything, my dear sir!I know whom you made love to yesterday, whom you've completely conqueredwith your good looks and honeyed words! I know who lets you into herroom. .. After ten o'clock at night!"

"Sir!" the coachman exclaimed suddenly, turning to Markelov, "hold thereins, please. I'll get down and have a look. I think we've gone off thetrack. There seems a sort of ravine here. "

The carriage was, in fact, standing almost on one side. Markelov seizedthe reins which the coachman handed to him and continued just as loudly:

"I don't blame you in the least, Alexai Dmitritch! You took advantageof. .. . You were quite right. No wonder that you're not so keen aboutour cause now. .. As I said before, you have something else on your mind. And, really, who can tell beforehand what will please a girl's heart orwhat man can achieve what she may desire?"

"I understand now, " Nejdanov began; "I understand your vexation and canguess. .. Who spied on us and lost no time in letting you know--" "It doesnot seem to depend on merit, " Markelov continued, pretending not tohave heard Nejdanov, and purposely drawling out each word in a sing-songvoice, "no extraordinary spiritual or physical attractions. .. . Oh no!It's only the damned luck of all. .. Bastards!"

The last sentence Markelov pronounced abruptly and hurriedly, butsuddenly stopped as if turned to stone. 

Nejdanov felt himself grow pale in the darkness and tingled all over. Hecould scarcely restrain himself from flying at Markelov and seizing himby the throat. "Only blood will wipe out this insult, " he thought. 

"I've found the road!" the coachman cried, making his appearance atthe right front wheel, "I turned to the left by mistake--but it doesn'tmatter, we'll soon be home. It's not much farther. Sit still, please!"

He got onto the box, took the reins from Markelov, pulled theshaft-horse a little to one side, and the carriage, after one or twojerks, rolled along more smoothly and evenly. The darkness seemed topart and lift itself, a cloud of smoke could be seen curling out of achimney, ahead some sort of hillock, a light twinkled, vanished, thenanother. .. . A dog barked. 

"That's our place, " the coachman observed. "Gee up, my pretties!"

The lights became more and more numerous as they drove on. 

"After the way in which you insulted me, " Nejdanov said at last, "youwill quite understand that I couldn't spend the night under your roof, and I must ask you, however unpleasant it may be for me to do so, to bekind enough to lend me your carriage as soon as we get to your house totake me back to the town. Tomorrow I shall find some means of gettinghome, and will then communicate with you in a way which you doubtlessexpect. "

Markelov did not reply at once. 

"Nejdanov, " he exclaimed suddenly, in a soft, despairing tone of voice, "Nejdanov! For Heaven's sake come into the house if only to let mebeg for your forgiveness on my knees! Nejdanov! forget. .. Forgetmy senseless words! Oh, if some one only knew how wretched I feel!"Markelov struck himself on the breast with his fist, a groan seemed tocome from him. "Nejdanov. Be generous. .. . Give me your hand. .. . Saythat you forgive me!"

Nejdanov held out his hand irresolutely--Markelov squeezed it so hardthat he could almost have cried out. 

The carriage stopped at the door of the house. 

"Listen to me, Nejdanov, " Markelov said to him a quarter of an hourlater in his study, "listen. " (He addressed him as "thou, " and in thisunexpected "THOU" addressed to a man whom he knew to be a successfulrival, whom he had only just cruelly insulted, wished to kill, to tearto pieces, in this familiar word "thou" there was a ring of irrevocablerenunciation, sad, humble supplication, and a kind of claim. .. ) Nejdanovrecognised this claim and responded to it by addressing him in the sameway. "Listen! I've only just told you that I've refused the happiness oflove, renounced everything to serve my convictions. .. . 

"It wasn't true, I was only bragging! Love has never been offered to me, I've had nothing to renounce! I was born unlucky and will continue sofor the rest of my days. .. And perhaps it's for the best. Since I can'tget that, I must turn my attention to something else! If you can combinethe one with the other. .. Love and be loved. .. And serve the cause atthe same time, you're lucky! I envy you. .. But as for myself. .. I can't. You happy man! You happy man! I can't. "

Markelov said all this softly, sitting on a low stool, his head bentand arms hanging loose at his sides. Nejdanov stood before him lost in asort of dreamy attentiveness, and though Markelov had called him a happyman, he neither looked happy nor did he feel himself to be so. 

"I was deceived in my youth, " Markelov went on; "she was a remarkablegirl, but she threw me over. .. And for whom? For a German! for anadjutant! And Mariana--"

He stopped. It was the first time he had pronounced her name and itseemed to burn his lips. 

"Mariana did not deceive me. She told me plainly that she did not carefor me. .. There is nothing in me she could care for, so she gave herselfto you. Of course, she was quite free to do so. "

"Stop a minute!" Nejdanov exclaimed. "What are you saying? What do youimply by the words 'gave herself'? I don't know what your sister toldyou, but I assure you--"

"I didn't mean physically, but morally, that is, with the heart andsoul, " Markelov interrupted him. He was obviously displeased withNejdanov's exclamation. "She couldn't have done better. As formy sister, she didn't, of course, wish to hurt me. It can make nodifference to her, but she no doubt hates you and Mariana too. She didnot tell me anything untrue. .. But enough of her!"

"Yes, " Nejdanov thought to himself, "she does hate us. "

"It's all for the best, " Markelov continued, still sitting in the sameposition. "The last fetters have been broken; there is nothing to hinderme now! It doesn't matter that Golushkin is an ass, and as forKisliakov's letters, they may perhaps be absurd, but we must considerthe most important thing. Kisliakov says that everything is ready. Perhaps you don't believe that too. "

Nejdanov did not reply. 

"You may be right, but if we've to wait until everything, absolutelyeverything, is ready, we shall never make a beginning. If we weigh allthe consequences beforehand we're sure to find some bad ones among them. For instance, when our forefathers emancipated the serfs, do you thinkthey could foresee that a whole class of money-lending landlords wouldspring up as a result of the emancipation? Landlords who sell a peasanteight bushels of rotten rye for six roubles and in return for it getlabour for the whole six roubles, then the same quantity of goodsound rye and interest on top of that! Which means that they drain thepeasants to the last drop of blood! You'll agree that our emancipatorscould hardly have foreseen that. Even if they had foreseen it, theywould still have been quite right in freeing the serfs without weighingall the consequences beforehand! That is why I have decided!"

Nejdanov looked at Markelov with amazement, but the latter turned to oneside and directed his gaze into a corner of the room. He sat with hiseyes closed, biting his lips and chewing his moustache. 

"Yes, I've decided!" he repeated, striking his knee with his brown hairyhand. "I'm very obstinate. .. It's not for nothing that I'm half a LittleRussian. "

He got up, dragged himself into his bedroom, and came back with a smallportrait of Mariana in a glazed frame. 

"Take this, " he said in a sad, though steady voice. "I drew it some timeago. I don't draw well, but I think it's like her. " (It was a pencilsketch in profile and was certainly like Mariana. ) "Take it, Alexai;it is my bequest, and with this portrait I give you all my rights. .. . I know I never had any. .. But you know what I mean! I give you upeverything, and her. .. . She is very good, Alexai--"

Markelov ceased; his chest heaved visibly. 

"Take it. You are not angry with me, are you? Well, take it then. It'sno use to me. .. Now. "

Nejdanov took the portrait, but a strange sensation oppressed hisheart. It seemed to him that he had no right to take this gift; thatif Markelov knew what was in his, Nejdanov's, heart, he would not havegiven it him. He stood holding the round piece of cardboard, carefullyset in a black frame with a mount of gold paper, not knowing what to dowith it. "Why, this is a man's whole life I'm holding in my hand, " hethought. He fully realised the sacrifice Markelov was making, but why, why especially to him? Should he give back the portrait? No! that wouldbe the grossest insult. And after all, was not the face dear to him? Didhe not love her?

Nejdanov turned his gaze on Markelov not without some inward misgiving. "Was he not looking at him, trying to guess his thoughts?" But Markelovwas standing in a corner biting his moustache. 

The old servant came into the room carrying a candle. Markelov started. 

"It's time we were in bed, Alexai, " he said. "Morning is wiser thanevening. You shall have the horses tomorrow. Goodbye. "

"And goodbye to you too, old fellow, " he added turning to the servantand slapping him on the shoulder. "Don't be angry with me!"

The old man was so astonished that he nearly dropped the candle, andas he fixed his eyes on his master there was an expression in them ofsomething other, something more, than his habitual dejection. 

Nejdanov retired to his room. He was feeling wretched. His head wasaching from the wine he had drunk, there were ringing noises in hisears, and stars jumping about in front of his eyes, even though he shutthem. Golushkin, Vasia the clerk, Fomishka and Fimishka, were dancingabout before him, with Mariana's form in the distance, as if distrustfuland afraid to come near. Everything that he had said or done during theday now seemed to him so utterly false, such useless nonsense, and thething that ought to be done, ought to be striven for, was nowhere to befound; unattainable, under lock and key, in the depths of a bottomlesspit. 

He was filled with a desire to go to Markelov and say to him, "Here, take back your gift, take it back!"

"Ugh! What a miserable thing life is!" he exclaimed. 

He departed early on the following morning. Markelov was alreadystanding at the door surrounded by peasants, but whether he had askedthem to come, or they had come of their own accord, Nejdanov did notknow. . Markelov said very little and parted with him coldly, but itseemed to Nejdanov that he had something of importance to communicate tohim. 

The old servant made his appearance with his usual melancholyexpression. 

The carriage soon left the town behind it, and coming out into the opencountry began flying at a furious rate. The horses were the same, butthe driver counted on a good tip, as Nejdanov lived in a rich house. And as is usually the case, when the driver has either had a drink, orexpects to get one, the horses go at a good pace. 

It was an ordinary June day, though the air was rather keen. A steady, high wind was blowing, but raising no dust in the road, owing to lastnight's rain. The laburnums glistened, rustling to and fro in thebreeze; a ripple ran over everything. From afar the cry of the quail wascarried over the hills, over the grassy ravines, as if the very cry waspossessed of wings; the rooks were bathing in the sunshine; along thestraight, bare line of the horizon little specks no bigger thanflies could be distinguished moving about. These were some peasantsre-ploughing a fallow field. 

Nejdanov was so lost in thought that he did not see all this. He wenton and on and did not even notice when they drove through Sipiagin'svillage. 

He trembled suddenly as he caught sight of the house, the first storyand Mariana's window. "Yes, " he said to himself, a warm glow enteringhis heart, "Markelov was right. She is a good girl and I love her. "

XXII

NEJDANOV changed his clothes hurriedly and went in to give Kolia hislesson. On the way he ran across Sipiagin in the dining-room. He bowedto him with chilling politeness, muttered through his teeth, "Got backall right?" and went into his study. The great statesman had alreadydecided in his ministerial mind that as soon as the vacation came toan end he would lose no time in packing off to St. Petersburg "thisextremely revolutionary young tutor, " but meanwhile would keep an eyeon him. "Je n'ai pas eu la main heureuse cette fois-ci", he thoughtto himself, still "j'aurais pu tomber pire". Valentina Mihailovna'ssentiments towards Nejdanov however, were not quite so negative; shesimply could not endure the idea that he, "a mere boy, " had slightedher! Mariana had not been mistaken, Valentina Mihailovna had listenedat the door in the corridor; the illustrious lady was not above suchproceedings. Although she had said nothing to her "flighty" nieceduring Nejdanov's absence, still she had let her plainly understand thateverything was known to her, and that if she had not been so painfullysorry for her, and did not despise her from the bottom of her heart, shewould have been most frightfully angry at the whole thing. 

An expression of restrained inward contempt played over her face. Sheraised her eyebrows in scorn and pity when she looked at or spoketo Mariana, and she would fix her wonderful eyes, full of tenderremonstrance and painful disgust, on the willful girl, who, after allher "fancies and eccentricities, " had ended by kissing an insignificantundergraduate. .. In a dark room!

Poor Mariana! Her severe, proud lips had never tasted any man's kisses. 

Valentina Mihailovna had not told her husband of the discovery she hadmade. She merely contented herself by addressing a few words to Marianain his presence, accompanied by a significant smile, quite irrelevant tothe occasion. She regretted having written to her brother, but was, on the whole, more pleased that the thing was done than be spared theregret and the letter not written. 

Nejdanov got a glimpse of Mariana at lunch in the dining-room. It seemedto him that she had grown thinner and paler. She was not looking herbest on that day, but the penetrating glance she turned on him directlyhe entered the room went straight to his heart. Valentina Mihailovnalooked at him constantly, as though she were inwardly congratulatinghim. "Splendid! Very smart!" he read on her face, while she was studyinghis to find out if Markelov had shown him the letter. She decided in theend that he had. 

On hearing that Nejdanov had been to the factory of which Solomin wasthe manager, Sipiagin began asking him various questions about it, butwas soon convinced from the young man's replies that he had seen nothingthere and dropped into a majestic silence, as if reproaching himselffor having expected any practical knowledge from such an inexperiencedindividual! On going out of the room Mariana managed to whisper toNejdanov: "Wait for me in the birch grove at the end of the garden. I'llbe there as soon as possible. "

"She is just as familiar with me as Markelov was, " he thought tohimself, and a strange, pleasant sensation came over him. How strange itwould have seemed to him if she had suddenly become distant and formalagain, if she had turned away from him. He felt that such a thing wouldhave made him utterly wretched, but was not sure in his own mind whetherhe loved her or not. She was dear to him and he felt the need of herabove everything--this he acknowledged from the bottom of his heart. 

The grove Mariana mentioned consisted of some hundreds of big oldweeping-birches. The wind had not fallen and the long tangled brancheswere tossing hither and thither like loosened tresses. The clouds, stillhigh, flew quickly over the sky, every now and again obscuring thesun and making everything of an even hue. Suddenly it would make itsappearance again and brilliant patches of light would flash out oncemore through the branches, crossing and recrossing, a tangled pattern oflight and shade. The roar of the trees seemed to be filled with a kindof festive joy, like to the violent joy with which passion breaks intoa sad, troubled heart. It was just such a heart that Nejdanov carried inhis bosom. He leaned against the trunk of a tree and waited. He did notreally know what he was feeling and had no desire to know, but it seemedto him more awful, and at the same time easier, than at Markelov's. Above everything he wanted to see her, to speak to her. The knot thatsuddenly binds two separate existences already had him in its grasp. Nejdanov thought of the rope that is flung to the quay to make fast aship. Now it is twisted about the post and the ship stops. .. Safe inport! Thank God!

He trembled suddenly. A woman's dress could be seen in the distancecoming along the path. It was Mariana. But whether she was comingtowards him or going away from him he could not tell until he noticedthat the patches of light and shade glided over her figure from belowupwards. So she was coming towards him; they would have glided fromabove downwards had she been going away from him. A few moments longerand she was standing before him with her bright face full of welcome anda caressing light in her eyes. A glad smile played about her lips. Heseized the hand she held out to him, but could not say a single word;she also was silent. She had walked very quickly and was somewhat outof breath, but seemed glad that he was pleased to see her. She was thefirst to speak. 

"Well, " she began, "tell me quickly what you've decided. "

Nejdanov was surprised. 

"Decided? Why, was it necessary to decide anything just now?"

"Oh, you know what I mean. Tell me what you talked about, whom you'veseen--if you've met Solomin. Tell me everything, everything. But waita moment; let us go on a little further. I know a spot not quite soconspicuous as this. "

She made him come with her. He followed her obediently over the tallthin grass. 

She led him to the place she mentioned, and they sat down on the trunkof a birch that had been blown down in a storm. 

"Now begin!" she said, and added directly afterwards, "I am so glad tosee you again! I thought these two days would never come to an end! Doyou know, I'm convinced that Valentina Mihailovna listened to us. "

"She wrote to Markelov about it, " Nejdanov remarked. 

"Did she?"

Mariana was silent for a while. She blushed all over, not from shame, but from another, deeper feeling. 

"She is a wicked, spiteful woman!" she said slowly and quietly. "Shehad no right to do such a thing! But it doesn't matter. Now tell me yournews. "

Nejdanov began talking and Mariana listened to him with a sort of stonyattention, only stopping him when she thought he was hurrying overthings, not giving her sufficient details. However, not all the detailsof his visit were of equal interest to her; she laughed over Fomishkaand Fimishka, but they did not interest her. Their life was too remotefrom hers. 

"It's just like hearing about Nebuchadnezzar, " she remarked. 

But she was very keen to know what Markelov had said, what Golushkin hadthought (though she soon realised what sort of a bird he was), and aboveall wanted to know Solomin's opinion and what sort of a man he was. These were the things that interested her. "But when? when?" was aquestion constantly in her mind and on her lips the whole time Nejdanovwas talking, while he, on the other hand, seemed to try and avoideverything that might give a definite answer to that question. He beganto notice himself that he laid special stress on those details that wereof least interest to Mariana. He pulled himself up, but returned to themagain involuntarily. Humorous descriptions made her impatient, asceptic or dejected tone hurt her. It was necessary to keep strictlyto everything concerning the "cause, " and however much he said on thesubject did not seem to weary her. It brought back to Nejdanov's mindhow once, before he had entered the university, when he was staying withsome friends of his in the country one summer, he had undertaken totell the children some stories; they had also paid no attention todescriptions, personal expressions, personal sensations, they had alsodemanded nothing but facts and figures. Mariana was not a child, but shewas like a child in the directness and simplicity of her feelings. 

Nejdanov was sincerely enthusiastic in his praise of Markelov, andexpressed himself with particular warmth about Solomin. While utteringthe most enthusiastic expressions about him, he kept asking himselfcontinually why he had such a high opinion of this man. He had not saidanything very brilliant and, in fact, some of his words were in directopposition to his (Nejdanov's) own convictions. "His head is screwedon the right way, " he thought. "A cool, steady man, as Fimishka said;a powerful man, of calm, firm strength. He knows what he wants, hasconfidence in himself, and arouses confidence in others. He has noanxieties and is well-balanced! That is the main thing; he has balance, just what is lacking in me!" Nejdanov ceased speaking and became lost inmeditation. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"Alexai! What is the matter with you?" Mariana asked. 

He took her tiny, strong hand from his shoulder and kissed it for thefirst time. Mariana laughed softly, surprised that such a thing shouldhave occurred to him. She in her turn became pensive. 

"Did Markelov show you Valentina Mihailovna's letter?" she asked atlast. 

"Yes, he did. "

"Well, and how is he?"

"Markelov? He is the most honourable, most unselfish man in existence!He--"

Nejdanov wanted to tell Mariana about the portrait, but pulled himselfup and added, "He is the soul of honour!"

"Oh yes, I know. "

Mariana became pensive again. She suddenly turned to Nejdanov on thetrunk they were both sitting on and asked quickly:

"Well? What have you decided on?"

Nejdanov shrugged his shoulders. 

"I've already told you, dear, that we've decided nothing as yet; we mustwait a little longer. "

"But why?"

"Those were our last instructions. " ("I'm lying, " Nejdanov thought tohimself. )

"From whom?"

"Why, you know. .. From Vassily Nikolaevitch. And then we must wait untilOstrodumov comes back. "

Mariana looked questioningly at Nejdanov. "But tell me, have you everseen this Vassily Nikolaevitch?

"Yes. I've seen him twice. .. For a minute or two. ''

"What is he like? Is he an extraordinary man?"

"I don't quite know how to tell you. He is our leader now and directseverything. We couldn't get on without discipline in our movement; wemust obey someone. " ("What nonsense I'm talking!" Nejdanov thought. )

"What is he like to look at?

"Oh, he's short, thick-set, dark, with high cheek-bones like aKalmick. .. A rather coarse face, only he has very bright, intelligenteyes. "

"And what does he talk like?"

"He does not talk, he commands. "

"Why did they make him leader?"

"He is a man of strong character. Won't give in to anyone. Would soonerkill if necessary. People are afraid of him. "

"And what is Solomin like?" Mariana asked after a pause. 

"Solomin is also not good-looking, but has a nice, simple, honest face. Such faces are to be found among schoolboys of the right sort. "

Nejdanov had described Solomin accurately. 

Mariana gazed at him for a long, long time, then said, as if to herself:

"You have also a nice face. I think it would be easy to get on withyou. "

Nejdanov was touched; he took her hand again and raised it to his lips. 

"No more gallantries!" she said laughing. Mariana always laughed whenher hand was kissed. "I've done something very naughty and must ask youto forgive me. "

"What have you done?"

"Well, when you were away, I went into your room and saw a copy-book ofverses lying on your table" (Nejdanov shuddered; he remembered havingleft it there), "and I must confess to you that I couldn't overcome mycuriosity and read the contents. Are they your verses?"

"Yes, they are. And do you know, Mariana, that one of the strongestproofs that I care for you and have the fullest confidence in you isthat I am hardly angry at what you have done?"

"Hardly! Then you are just a tiny bit. I'm so glad you call me Mariana. I can't call you Nejdanov, so I shall call you Alexai. There is a poemwhich begins, 'When I die, dear friend, remember, ' is that also yours?"

"Yes. Only please don't talk about this any more. .. Don't torture me. "

Mariana shook her head. 

"It's a very sad poem. .. I hope you wrote it before we became intimate. The verses are good though. .. As far as I can judge. I think you havethe making of a literary man in you, but you have chosen a better andhigher calling than literature. It was good to do that kind of work whenit was impossible to do anything else. "

Nejdanov looked at her quickly. 

"Do you think so? I agree with you. Better ruin there, than successhere. "

Mariana stood up with difficulty. 

"Yes, my dear, you are right!" she exclaimed, her whole face beamingwith triumph and emotion, "you are right! But perhaps it may not meanruin for us yet. We shall succeed, you will see; we'll be useful, ourlife won't be wasted. We'll go among the people. .. Do you know any sortof handicraft? No? Never mind, we'll work just the same. We'll bringthem, our brothers, everything that we know. .. If necessary, I can cook, wash, sew. .. You'll see, you'll see. .. . And there won't be any kind ofmerit in it, only happiness, happiness--"

Mariana ceased and fixed her eyes eagerly in the distance, not thatwhich lay before her, but another distance as yet unknown to her, whichshe seemed to see. .. . She was all aglow. 

Nejdanov bent down to her waist. 

"Oh, Mariana!" he whispered. "I am not worthy of you!"

She trembled all over. 

"It's time to go home!" she exclaimed, "or Valentina Mihailovna will belooking for us again. However, I think she's given me up as a bad job. I'm quite a black sheep in her eyes. "

Mariana pronounced the last words with such a bright joyful expressionthat Nejdanov could not help laughing as he looked at her and repeating, "black sheep!"

"She is awfully hurt, " Mariana went on, "that you are not at her feet. But that is nothing. The most important thing is that I can't stay hereany longer. I must run away. "

"Run away?" Nejdanov asked. 

"Yes. .. . You are not going to stay here, are you? We'll go awaytogether. .. . We must work together. .. You'll come with me, won't you?"

"To the ends of the earth!" Nejdanov exclaimed, his voice ringing withsudden emotion in a transport of gratitude. "To the ends of the earth!"At that moment he would have gone with her wherever she wanted, withoutso much as looking back. 

Mariana understood him and gave a gentle, blissful sigh. 

"Then take my hand, dearest--only don't kiss it--press it firmly, like acomrade, like a friend--like this!"

They walked home together, pensive, happy. The young grass caressedtheir feet, the young leaves rustled about them, patches of light andshade played over their garments--and they both smiled at the wildplay of the light, at the merry gusts of wind, at the fresh, sparklingleaves, at their own youth, and at one another. 

XXIII

THE dawn was already approaching on the night after Golushkin's dinnerwhen Solomin, after a brisk walk of about five miles, knocked at thegate in the high wall surrounding the factory. The watchman let him inat once and, followed by three house-dogs wagging their tails with greatdelight, accompanied him respectfully to his own dwelling. He seemed tobe very pleased that the chief had got back safely. 

"How did you manage to get here at night, Vassily Fedotitch? We didn'texpect you until tomorrow. "

"Oh, that's all right, Gavrilla. It's much nicer walking at night. "

The most unusually friendly relations existed between Solomin and hisworkpeople. They respected him as a superior, treated him as one ofthemselves, and considered him to be very learned. "Whatever VassilyFedotitch says, " they declared, "is sacred! Because he has learnedeverything there is to be learned, and there isn't an Englishman who canget around him!" And in fact, a certain well-known English manufacturerhad once visited the factory, but whether it was that Solomin couldspeak to him in his own tongue or that he was really impressed by hisknowledge is uncertain; he had laughed, slapped him on the shoulder, andinvited him to come to Liverpool with him, saying to the workmen, in hisbroken Russian, "Oh, he's all right, your man here!" At which the menlaughed a great deal, not without a touch of pride. "So that's what heis! Our man!"

And he really was theirs and one of them. Early the next morning hisfavourite Pavel woke him, prepared his things for washing, told himvarious news, and asked him various questions. They partook of sometea together hastily, after which Solomin put on his grey, greasyworking-jacket and set out for the factory; and his life began to goround again like some huge flywheel. 

But the thread had to be broken again. Five days after Solomin's returnhome there drove into the courtyard a smart little phaeton, harnessedto four splendid horses and a footman in pale green livery, whom Pavelconducted to the little wing, where he solemnly handed Solomin a lettersealed with an armorial crest, from "His Excellency Boris AndraevitchSipiagin. " In this letter, which exhaled an odour, not of perfume, butof some extraordinarily respectable English smell and was written inthe third person, not by a secretary, but by the gentleman himself, the cultured owner of the village Arjanov, he begged to be excused foraddressing himself to a man with whom he had not the honour of beingpersonally acquainted, but of whom he, Sipiagin, had heard so manyflattering accounts, and ventured to invite Mr. Solomin to come andsee him at his house, as he very much wanted to ask his valuable adviceabout a manufacturing enterprise of some importance he had embarkedupon. In the hope that Mr. Solomin would be kind enough to come, he, Sipiagin, had sent him his carriage, but in the event of his beingunable to do so on that day, would he be kind enough to choose any otherday that might be convenient for him and the same carriage would begladly put at his disposal. Then followed the usual polite signature anda postscript written in the first person:

"I hope that you will not refuse to take dinner with us quite simply. No dress clothes. " (The words "quite simply" were underlined. )Together with this letter the footman (not without a certain amount ofembarrassment) gave Solomin another letter from Nejdanov. It was just asimple note, not sealed with wax but merely stuck down, containingthe following lines: "Do please come. You're wanted badly and may beextremely useful. I need hardly say not to Mr. Sipiagin. "

On finishing Sipiagin's letter Solomin thought, "How else can I go ifnot simply? I haven't any dress clothes at the factory. .. And what thedevil should I drag myself over there for? It's just a waste of time!"But after reading Nejdanov's note, he scratched the back of his neck andwalked over to the window, irresolute. 

"What answer am I to take back, sir?" the footman in green livery askedslowly. 

Solomin stood for some seconds longer at the window. 

"I am coming with you, " he announced, shaking back his hair and passinghis hand over his forehead--"just let me get dressed. "

The footman left the room respectfully and Solomin sent for Pavel, hada talk with him, ran across to the factory once more, then putting on ablack coat with a very long waist, which had been made by a provincialtailor, and a shabby top-hat which instantly gave his face a woodenexpression, took his seat in the phaeton. He suddenly remembered that hehad forgotten his gloves, and called out to the "never-failing" Pavel, who brought him a pair of newly-washed white kid ones, the fingers ofwhich were so stretched at the tips that they looked like long biscuits. Solomin thrust the gloves into his pocket and gave the order to start. Then the footman jumped onto the box with an unnecessary amount ofalacrity, the well-bred coachman sang out in a falsetto voice, and thehorses started off at a gallop. 

While the horses were bearing Solomin along to Sipiagin's, thatgentleman was sitting in his drawing-room with a halfcut politicalpamphlet on his knee, discussing him with his wife. He confided to herthat he had written to him with the express purpose of trying to get himaway from the merchant's factory to his own, which was in a very bad wayand needed reorganising. Sipiagin would not for a moment entertainthe idea that Solomin would refuse to come, or even so much as appointanother day, though he had himself suggested it. 

"But ours is a paper-mill, not a spinning-mill, " Valentina Mihailovnaremarked. 

"It's all the same, my dear, machines are used in both, and he's amechanic. "

"But supposing he turns out to be a specialist!"

"My dear! In the first place there are no such things as specialists inRussia; in the second, I've told you that he's a mechanic!"

Valentina Mihailovna smiled. 

"Do be careful, my dear. You've been unfortunate once already with youngmen; mind you don't make a second mistake. "

"Are you referring to Nejdanov? I don't think I've been altogethermistaken with regard to him. He has been a good tutor to Kolia. Andthen you know 'non bis in idem'! Excuse my being pedantic. .. . It means, things don't repeat themselves!"

"Don't you think so? Well, I think that everything in the world repeatsitself. .. Especially what's in the nature of things. .. And particularlyamong young people. "

"Que voulez-vous dire?" asked Sipiagin, flinging the pamphlet on thetable with a graceful gesture of the hand. 

"Ouvrez les yeux, et vous verrez!" Madame Sipiagina replied. They alwaysspoke to one another in French. 

"H'm!" Sipiagin grunted. "Are you referring to that student?"

"Yes, I'm referring to him. "

"H'm! Has he got anything on here, eh?" (He passed his hand over hisforehead. )

"Open your eyes!"

"Is it Mariana, eh?" (The second "eh" was pronounced more through thenose than the first one. )

"Open your eyes, I tell you!"

Sipiagin frowned. 

"We must talk about this later on. I should just like to say now thatthis Solomin may feel rather uncomfortable. .. You see, he is not used tosociety. We must be nice to him so as to make him feel at his ease. Ofcourse, I don't mean this for you, you're such a dear, that I think youcould fascinate anyone if you chose. J'en sais quelque chose, madame! Imean this for the others, if only for--"

He pointed to a fashionable grey hat lying on a shelf. It belonged toMr. Kollomietzev, who had been in Arjanov since the morning. 

"Il est tres cassant you know. He has far too great a contempt for thepeople for my liking. And he has been so frightfully quarrelsome andirritable of late. Is his little affair there not getting on well?"

Sipiagin nodded his head in some indefinite direction, but his wifeunderstood him. 

"Open your eyes, I tell you again!"

Sipiagin stood up. 

"Eh?" (This "eh" was pronounced in a quite different tone, much lower. )"Is that how the land lies? They had better take care I don't open themtoo wide!"

"That is your own affair, my dear. But as for that new young man ofyours, you may be quite easy about him. I will see that everything isall right. Every precaution will be taken. "

It turned out that no precautions were necessary, however. Solomin wasnot in the least alarmed or embarrassed. 

As soon as he was announced Sipiagin jumped up, exclaiming in a voiceloud enough to be heard in the hall, "Show him in, of course show himin!" He then went up to the drawing-room door and stood waiting. Nosooner had Solomin crossed the threshold, almost knocking againstSipiagin, when the latter extended both his hands, saying with anamiable smile and a friendly shake of the head, "How very nice of you tocome. .. . I can hardly thank you enough. " Then he led him up to ValentinaMihailovna. 

"Allow me to introduce you to my wife, " he said, gently pressing hishand against Solomin's back, pushing him towards her as it were. "Mydear, here is our best local engineer and manufacturer, Vassily. .. Fedosaitch Solomin. "

Madame Sipiagina stood up, raised her wonderful eyelashes, smiledsweetly as to an acquaintance, extended her hand with the palm upwards, her elbow pressed against her waist, her head bent a little to theright, in the attitude of a suppliant. Solomin let the husband and wifego through their little comedy, shook hands with them both, and satdown at the first invitation to do so. Sipiagin began to fuss about him, asking if he would like anything, but Solomin assured him that he wantednothing and was not in the least bit tired from the journey. 

"Then may we go to the factory?" Sipiagin asked, a little shame-faced, not daring to believe in so much condescension on the part of his guest. 

"As soon as you like, I'm quite ready, " Solomin replied. "How awfullygood of you! Shall we drive or would you like to walk?"

"Is it a long way?"

"About half a mile. "

"It's hardly worthwhile bringing out the carriage. "

"Very well. Ivan! my hat and stick! Make haste! And you'll see aboutsome dinner, little one, won't you? My hat, quick!"

Sipiagin was far more excited than his visitor, and calling out oncemore, "Why don't they give me my hat, " he, the stately dignitary, rushed out like a frolicsome schoolboy. While her husband was talking toSolomin, Valentina Mihailovna looked at him stealthily, trying to makeout this new "young man. " He was sitting in an armchair, quite at hisease, his bare hands laid on his knee (he had not put on the glovesafter all), calmly, although not without a certain amount of curiosity, looking around at the furniture and pictures. "I don't understand, "she thought, "he's a plebeian--quite a plebeian--and yet behaves sonaturally!" Solomin did indeed carry himself naturally, not with anyview to effect, as much as to say "Look what a splendid fellow I am!"but as a man whose thoughts and feelings are simple, direct, and strongat the same time. Madame Sipiagina wanted to say something to him, butwas surprised to find that she did not quite know how to begin. 

"Heavens!" she thought. "This mechanic is making me quite nervous!"

"My husband must be very grateful to you, " she remarked at last. "It wasso good of you to sacrifice a few hours of your valuable time--"

"My time is not so very valuable, madame, " he observed. "Besides, I'venot come here for long. "

"Voila ou l'ours a montre sa patte, " she thought in French, but at thismoment her husband appeared in the doorway, his hat on his head and awalking stick in his hand. 

"Are you ready, Vassily Fedosaitch?" he asked in a free and easy tone, half turned towards him. 

Solomin rose, bowed to Valentina Mihailovna, and walked out behindSipiagin. 

"This way, this way, Vassily Fedosaitch!" Sipiagin called out, justas if they were groping their way through a tangled forest and Solominneeded a guide. "This way! Do be careful, there are some steps here, Vassily Fedosaitch!"

"If you want to call me by my father's Christian name, " Solomin saidslowly, "then it isn't Fedosaitch, but Fedotitch. "

Sipiagin was taken aback and looked at him over his shoulder. 

"I'm so sorry, Vassily Fedotitch. "

"Please don't mention it. "

As soon as they got outside they ran against Kollomietzev. 

"Where are you off to?" the latter asked, looking askance at Solomin. "Are you going to the factory? C'est la l'individu en question?"

Sipiagin opened his eyes wide and shook his head slightly by way ofwarning. 

"Yes, we're going to the factory. I want to show all my sins andtransgressions to this gentleman, who is an engineer. Allow me tointroduce you. Mr. Kollomietzev, a neighbouring landowner, Mr. Solomin. "

Kollomietzev nodded his head twice in an off-hand manner without lookingat Solomin, but the latter looked at him and there was a sinister gleamin his half-closed eyes. 

"May I come with you?" Kollomietzev asked. "You know I'm always ready tolearn. "

"Certainly, if you like. "

They went out of the courtyard into the road and had scarcely takentwenty steps when they ran across a priest in a woven cassock, who waswending his way homeward. Kollomietzev left his two companions and, going up to him with long, firm strides, asked for his blessing and gavehim a sounding smack on his moist, red hand, much to the discomfitureof the priest, who did not in the least expect this sort of outburst. He then turned to Solomin and gave him a defiant look. He had evidentlyheard something about him and wanted to show off and get some fun out ofthis learned scoundrel. 

"C'est une manifestation, mon cher?" Sipiagin muttered through histeeth. 

Kollomietzev giggled. 

"Oui, mon cher, une manifestation necessaire par temps qui court!"

They got to the factory and were met by a Little Russian with anenormous beard and false teeth, who had taken the place of the formermanager, a German, whom Sipiagin had dismissed. This man was there in atemporary capacity and understood absolutely nothing; he merely kepton saying "Just so. .. Yes. .. That's it, " and sighing all the time. Theybegan inspecting the place. Several of the workmen knew Solomin by sightand bowed to him. He even called out to one of them, "Hallo, Gregory!You here?" Solomin was soon convinced that the place was going badly. Money was simply thrown away for no reason whatever. The machines turnedout to be of a very poor kind; many of them were quite superfluous anda great many necessary ones were lacking. Sipiagin kept lookinginto Solomin's face, trying to guess his opinion, asked a few timidquestions, wanted to know if he was at any rate satisfied with the orderof the place. 

"Oh, the order is all right, " Solomin replied, "but I doubt if you canget anything out of it. "

Not only Sipiagin, but even Kollomietzev felt, that in the factorySolomin was quite at home, was familiar with every little detail, wasmaster there in fact. He laid his hand on a machine as a rider on hishorse's neck; he poked a wheel with his finger and it either stood stillor began whirling round; he took some paper pulp out of a vat and itinstantly revealed all its defects. 

Solomin said very little, took no notice of the Little Russian at all, and went out without saying anything. Sipiagin and Kollomietzev followedhim. 

Sipiagin was so upset that he did not let any one accompany him. Hestamped and ground his teeth with rage. 

"I can see by your face, " he said turning to Solomin, "that you arenot pleased with the place. Of course, I know that it's not in a veryexcellent condition and doesn't pay as yet. But please . .. Give me yourcandid opinion as to what you consider to be the principal failings andas to what one could do to improve matters. "

"Paper-manufacturing is not in my line, " Solomin began, "but I can tellyou one thing. I doubt if the aristocracy is cut out for industrialenterprises. "

"Do you consider it degrading for the aristocracy?" Kollomietzev asked. 

Solomin smiled his habitual broad smile. 

"Oh dear no! What is there degrading about it? And even if there were, Idon't think the aristocracy would be overly particular. "

"What do you mean?"

"I only meant, " Solomin continued, calmly, "that the gentry are not usedto that kind of business. A knowledge of commerce is needed for that;everything has to be put on a different footing, you want technicaltraining for it. The gentry don't understand this. We see them startingwoollen, cotton, and other factories all over the place, but they nearlyalways fall into the hands of the merchants in the end. It's a pity, because the merchants are even worse sweaters. But it can't be helped, Isuppose. "

"To listen to you one would think that all questions of finance wereabove our nobility!" Kollomietzev exclaimed. 

"Oh no! On the other hand the nobility are masters at it. For gettingconcessions for railways, founding banks, exempting themselves from sometax, or anything like that, there is no one to beat them! They make hugefortunes. I hinted at that just now, but it seemed to offend you. I hadregular industrial enterprises in my mind when I spoke; I say regular, because founding private public houses, petty little grocers' shops, orlending the peasants corn or money at a hundred or a hundred and fiftypercent, as many of our landed gentry are now doing, I cannot consideras genuine financial enterprises. "

Kollomietzev did not say anything. He belonged to that new species ofmoney-lending landlord whom Markelov had mentioned in his last talkwith Nejdanov, and was the more inhuman in his demands that he had nopersonal dealings with the peasants themselves. He never allowed theminto his perfumed European study, and conducted all his business withthem through his manager. He was boiling with rage while listeningto Solomin's slow, impartial speech, but he held his peace; only theworking of the muscles of his face betrayed what was passing within him. 

"But allow me, Vassily Fedotitch, " Sipiagin began; "what you have justsaid may have been quite true in former days, when the nobility hadquite different privileges and were altogether in a different position;but now, after all the beneficial reforms in our present industrialage, why should not the nobility turn their attention and bring theirabilities into enterprises of this nature? Why shouldn't they be able tounderstand what is understood by a simple illiterate merchant? They arenot suffering from lack of education and one might even claim, withoutany exaggeration, that they are, in a certain sense, the representativesof enlightenment and progress. "

Boris Andraevitch spoke very well; his eloquence would have made a greatstir in St. Petersburg, in his department, or maybe in higher quarters, but it produced no effect whatever on Solomin. 

"The nobility cannot manage these things, " Solomin repeated. 

"But why, I should like to know? Why?" Kollomietzev almost shouted. 

"Because there is too much of the bureaucrat about them. "

"Bureaucrat?" Kollomietzev laughed maliciously. "I don't think you quiterealise what you're saying, Mr. Solomin. "

Solomin continued smiling. 

"What makes you think so, Mr. Kolomentzev?" (Kollomietzev shuddered athearing his name thus mutilated. ) "I assure you that I always realisewhat I am saying. "

"Then please explain what you meant just now!"

"With pleasure. I think that every bureaucrat is an outsider and wasalways such. The nobility have now become 'outsiders. '"

Kollomietzev laughed louder than ever. 

"But, my dear sir, I really don't understand what you mean!"

"So much the worse for you. Perhaps you will if you try hard enough. "

"Sir!

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, " Sipiagin interposed hastily, trying to catchsomeone's eye, "please, please. .. Kallomeitzeff, je vous prie de vouscalmer. I suppose dinner will soon be ready. Come along, gentlemen!"

"Valentina Mihailovna!" Kollomietzev cried out five minutes later, rushing into her boudoir. "I really don't know what your husband isdoing! He has brought us one nihilist and now he's bringing us another!Only this one is much worse!"

"But why?"

"He is advocating the most awful things, and what do you think? He hasbeen talking to your husband for a whole hour, and not once, not once, did he address him as Your Excellency! Le vagabond!"

XXIV

JUST before dinner Sipiagin called his wife into the library. He wantedto have a talk with her alone. He seemed worried. He told her that thefactory was really in a bad way, that Solomin struck him as a capableman, although a little stiff, and thought it was necessary to continuebeing aux petits soins with him. 

"How I should like to get hold of him!" he repeated once or twice. Sipiagin was very much annoyed at Kollomietzev's being there. "Deviltake the man! He sees nihilists everywhere and is always wanting tosuppress them! Let him do it at his own house I He simply can't hold histongue!"

Valentina Mihailovna said that she would be delighted to be aux petitssoins with the new visitor, but it seemed to her that he had no need ofthese petits soins and took no notice of them; not rudely in any way, but he was quite indifferent; very remarkable in a man du commun. 

"Never mind. .. . Be nice to him just the same!" Sipiagin begged of her. 

Valentina Mihailovna promised to do what he wanted and fulfilledher promise conscientiously. She began by having a tete-a-tete withKollomietzev. What she said to him remains a secret, but he came to thetable with the air of a man who had made up his mind to be discreet andsubmissive at all costs. This "resignation" gave his whole bearing aslight touch of melancholy; and what dignity. .. Oh, what dignity therewas in every one of his movements! Valentina Mihailovna introducedSolomin to everybody (he looked more attentively at Mariana than atany of the others), and made him sit beside her on her right at table. Kollomietzev sat on her left, and as he unfolded his serviette screwedup his face and smiled, as much as to say, "Well, now let us begin ourlittle comedy!" Sipiagin sat on the opposite side and watched him withsome anxiety. By a new arrangement of Madame Sipiagina, Nejdanov was notput next to Mariana as usual, but between Anna Zaharovna and Sipiagin. Mariana found her card (as the dinner was a stately one) on herserviette between Kollomietzev and Kolia. The dinner was excellentlyserved; there was even a "menu"--a painted card lay before each person. 

Directly soup was finished, Sipiagin again brought the conversationround to his factory, and from there went on to Russian manufacture ingeneral. Solomin, as usual, replied very briefly. As soon as he beganspeaking, Mariana fixed her eyes upon him. Kollomietzev, who was sittingbeside her, turned to her with various compliments (he had been askednot to start a dispute), but she did not listen to him; and indeed hepronounced all his pleasantries in a half-hearted manner, merely tosatisfy his own conscience. He realised that there was something betweenhimself and this young girl that could not be crossed. 

As for Nejdanov, something even worse had come to pass between him andthe master of the house. For Sipiagin, Nejdanov had become simply apiece of furniture, or an empty space that he quite ignored. These newrelations had taken place so quickly and unmistakably that when Nejdanovpronounced a few words in answer to a remark of Anna Zaharovna's, Sipiagin looked round in amazement, as if wondering where the sound camefrom. 

Sipiagin evidently possessed some of the characteristics for whichcertain of the great Russian bureaucrats are celebrated for. 

After the fish, Valentina Mihailovna, who had been lavishing all hercharms on Solomin, said to her husband in English that she noticed theirvisitor did not drink wine and might perhaps like some beer. Sipiagincalled aloud for ale, while Solomin calmly turned towards ValentinaMihailovna, saying, "You may not be aware, madame, that I spent over twoyears in England and can understand and speak English. I only mentionedit in case you should wish to say anything private before me. " ValentinaMihailovna laughed and assured him that this precaution was altogetherunnecessary, since he would hear nothing but good of himself; inwardlyshe thought Solomin's action rather strange, but delicate in its ownway. 

At this point Kollomietzev could no longer contain himself. "And soyou've been in England, " he began, "and no doubt studied the manners andcustoms there. Do you think them worth imitating?"

"Some yes, others no. "

"Brief but not clear, " Kollomietzev remarked, trying not to notice thesigns Sipiagin was making to him. "You were speaking of the nobilitythis morning. .. No doubt you've had the opportunity of studying theEnglish landed gentry, as they call them there. "

"No, I had no such opportunity. I moved in quite a different sphere. ButI formed my own ideas about these gentlemen. "

"Well, do you think that such a landed gentry is impossible among us? Orthat we ought not to want it in any case?"

"In the first place, I certainly do think it impossible, and in thesecond, it's hardly worthwhile wanting such a thing. "

"But why, my dear sir?" Kollomietzev asked; the polite tone was intendedto soothe Sipiagin, who sat very uneasily on his chair. 

"Because in twenty or thirty years your landed gentry won't be here inany case. "

"What makes you think so?"

"Because by that time the land will fall into the hands of people in noway distinguished by their origin. "

"Do you mean the merchants?"

"For the most part probably the merchants. "

"But how will it happen?"

"They'll buy it, of course. "

"From the gentry?"

"Yes; from the gentry. "

Kollomietzev smiled condescendingly. "If you recollect you said the verysame thing about factories that you're now saying about the land. "

"And it's quite true. "

"You will no doubt be very pleased about it!"

"Not at all. I've already told you that the people won't be any thebetter off for the change. "

Kollomietzev raised his hand slightly. "What solicitude on the part ofthe people, imagine!"

"Vassily Fedotitch!" Sipiagin called out as loudly as he could, "theyhave brought you some beer! Voyons, simeon!" he added in an undertone. 

But Kollomietzev would not be suppressed. 

"I see you haven't a very high opinion of the merchant class, " he beganagain, turning to Solomin, "but they've sprung from the people. "

"So they have. "

"I thought that you considered everything about the people, or relatingto the people, as above criticism!"

"Not at all! You are quite mistaken. The masses can be condemned for agreat many things, though they are not always to blame. Our merchantis an exploiter and uses his capital for that purpose. He thinks thatpeople are always trying to get the better of him, so he tries to getthe better of them. But the people--"

"Well, what about the people?" Kollomietzev asked in falsetto. 

"The people are asleep. "

"And would you like to wake them?"

"That would not be a bad thing to do. "

"Aha! aha! So that's what--"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Sipiagin exclaimed imperatively. He felt thatthe moment had come to put an end to the discussion, and he did putan end to it. With a slight gesture of his right hand, while the elbowremained propped on the table, he delivered a long and detailed speech. He praised the conservatives on the one hand and approved of theliberals on the other, giving the preference to the latter as he countedhimself of their numbers. He spoke highly of the people, but drewattention to some of their weaknesses; expressed his full confidencein the government, but asked himself whether all its officials werefaithfully fulfilling its benevolent designs. He acknowledged theimportance of literature, but declared that without the utmost cautionit was dangerous. He turned to the West with hope, then became doubtful;he turned to the East, first sighed, then became enthusiastic. Finallyhe proposed a toast in honour of the trinity: Religion, Agriculture, andIndustry!

"Under the wing of authority!" Kollomietzev added sternly. 

"Under the wing of wise and benevolent authority, " Sipiagin correctedhim. 

The toast was drunk in silence. The empty space on Sipiagin's left, inthe form of Nejdanov, did certainly make several sounds of disapproval;but arousing not the least attention became quiet again, and the dinner, without any further controversy, reached a happy conclusion. 

Valentina Mihailovna, with a most charming smile, handed Solomin a cupof coffee; he drank it and was already looking round for his hat whenSipiagin took him gently by the arm and led him into his study. There hefirst gave him an excellent cigar and then made him a proposal to enterhis factory on the most advantageous terms. "You will be absolute masterthere, Vassily Fedotitch, I assure you!" Solomin accepted the cigar anddeclined the offer about the factory. He stuck to his refusal, howevermuch Sipiagin insisted. 

"Please don't say 'no' at once, my dear Vassily Fedotitch! Say, atleast, that you'll think it over until tomorrow!"

"It would make no difference. I wouldn't accept your proposal. "

"Do think it over till tomorrow, Vassily Fedotitch! It won't cost youanything. "

Solomin agreed, came out of the study, and began looking for his hatagain. But Nejdanov, who until that moment had had no opportunity ofexchanging a word with him, came up to him and whispered hurriedly:

"For heaven's sake don't go yet, or else we won't be able to have atalk!"

Solomin left his hat alone, the more readily as Sipiagin, who hadobserved his irresoluteness, exclaimed:

"Won't you stay the night with us?"

"As you wish. "

The grateful glance Mariana fixed on him as she stood at thedrawing-room window set him thinking. 

XXV

UNTIL his visit Mariana had pictured Solomin to herself as quitedifferent. At first sight he had struck her as undefined, characterless. She had seen many such fair, lean, sinewy men in her day, but the moreshe watched him, the longer she listened to him, the stronger grew herfeeling of confidence in him--for it was confidence he inspired herwith. This calm, not exactly clumsy, but heavy man, was not onlyincapable of lying or bragging, but one could rely on him as on a stonewall. He would not betray one; more than that, he would understand andhelp one. It seemed to Mariana that he aroused such a feeling, not onlyin herself alone, but in everyone present. The things he spoke about hadno particular interest for her. She attached very little significanceto all this talk about factories and merchants, but the way in whichhe spoke, the manner in which he looked round and smiled, pleased herimmensely. 

A straightforward man. .. At any rate! this was what appealed to her. Itis a well-known fact, though not very easy to understand, that Russiansare the greatest liars on the face of the earth, yet there is nothingthey respect more than truth, nothing they sympathise with more. Andthen Solomin, in Mariana's eyes, was surrounded by a particular halo, asa man who had been recommended by Vassily Nikolaevitch himself. Duringdinner she had exchanged glances with Nejdanov several times on hisaccount, and in the end found herself involuntarily comparing the two, not to Nejdanov's advantage. Nejdanov's face was, it is true, handsomerand pleasanter to look at than Solomin's, but the very face expressed amedley of troubled sensations: embarrassment, annoyance, impatience, andeven dejection. 

He seemed to be sitting on hot coals; tried to speak, but did not, andlaughed nervously. Solomin, on the other hand, seemed a little bored, but looked quite at home and utterly independent of what was going onaround him. "We must certainly ask advice of this man, " Mariana thought, "he is sure to tell us something useful. " It was she who had sentNejdanov to him after dinner. 

The evening went very slowly; fortunately dinner was not over until lateand not very long remained before bedtime. Kollomietzev was sulky andsaid nothing. 

"What is the matter with you?" Madame Sipiagina asked half-jestingly. "Have you lost anything?"

"Yes, I have, " Kollomietzev replied. "There is a story about a certainofficer in the lifeguards who was very much grieved that his soldiershad lost a sock of his. 'Find me my sock!' he would say to them, and Isay, find me the word 'sir!' The word 'sir' is lost, and with it everysense of respect towards rank!"

Madame Sipiagina informed Kollomietzev that she would not help him inthe search. 

Emboldened by the success of his speech at dinner, Sipiagin deliveredtwo others, in which he let fly various statesmanlike reflections aboutindispensable measures and various words--des mots--not so much wittyas weighty, which he had especially prepared for St. Petersburg. He evenrepeated one of these words, saying beforehand, "If you will allowthe expression. " Above all, he declared that a certain minister hadan "idle, unconcentrated mind, " and was given "to dreaming. " And notforgetting that one of his listener's was a man of the people, he lostno opportunity in trying to show that he too was a Russian throughand through, and steeped in the very root of the national life! Forinstance, to Kollomietzev's remark that the rain might interfere withthe haymaking, he replied, "If the hay is black, then the buckwheat willbe white;" then he made use of various proverbs like: "A store withouta master is an orphan, " "Look before you leap, " "When there's bread thenthere's economy, " "If the birch leaves are as big as farthings by St. Yegor's day, the dough can be put into tubs by the feast of Our Ladyof Kazan. " He sometimes went wrong, however, and would get his proverbsvery much mixed; but the society in which these little slips occurreddid not even suspect that notre bon Russe had made a mistake, and, thanks to Prince Kovrishkin, it had got used to such little blunders. Sipiagin pronounced all these proverbs in a peculiarly powerful, gruffvoice--d'une voix rustique. Similar sayings let loose at the proper timeand place in St. Petersburg would cause influential high-society ladiesto exclaim, "Comme il connait bien les moeurs de notre people!" andgreat statesmen would add, "Les moeurs et les besoins!"

Valentina Mihailovna fussed about Solomin as much as she could, but herfailure to arouse him disheartened her. On passing Kollomietzev she saidinvoluntarily, in an undertone: "Mon Dieu, que je me sens fatiguee!" towhich he replied with an ironical bow: "Tu l'as voulu, George Daudin!"

At last, after the usual outburst of politeness and amiability, whichappears on the faces of a bored assembly on the point of breaking up, after sudden handshakings and friendly smiles, the weary guests andweary hosts separated. 

Solomin, who had been given almost the best bedroom on the second floor, with English toilette accessories and a bathroom attached, went in toNejdanov. 

The latter began by thanking him heartily for having agreed to stay. 

"I know it's a sacrifice on your part--"

"Not at all, " Solomin said hastily. "There was no sort of sacrificerequired. Besides I couldn't refuse you. "

"Why not?"

"Because I've taken a great liking to you. "

Nejdanov was surprised and glad at the same time, while Solomin pressedhis hand. Then he seated himself astride on a chair, lighted a cigar, and leaning both his elbows against the back, began:

"Now tell me what's the matter. "

Nejdanov also seated himself astride on a chair in front of Solomin, butdid not light a cigar. 

"So you want to know what's the matter. .. The fact is, I want to runaway from here. "

"Am I to understand that you want to leave this house? As far as I cansee there is nothing to prevent you. 

"Not leave it, but run away from it. "

"Why? Do they want to detain you? Perhaps you've taken some moneyin advance. .. If so, you've only to say the word and I should bedelighted--"

"I'm afraid you don't understand me, my dear Solomin. I said run awayand not leave, because I'm not going away alone. "

Solomin raised his head. 

"With whom then?"

"With the girl you've seen here today. "

"With her! She has a very nice face. Are you in love with one another?Or have you simply decided to go away together because you don't likebeing here?"

"We love each other. "

"Ah!" Solomin was silent for a while. "Is she related to the peoplehere?"

"Yes. But she fully shares our convictions and is prepared foranything. "

Solomin smiled. 

"And you, Nejdanov, are you prepared?"

Nejdanov frowned slightly. 

"Why ask? You will see when the time comes. "

"I do not doubt you, Nejdanov. I only asked because it seemed to me thatbesides yourself nobody else was prepared. "

"And Markelov?"

"Why, of course, Markelov! But then, he was born prepared. "

At this moment someone knocked at the door gently, but hastily, andopened it without waiting for an answer. It was Mariana. She immediatelycame up to Solomin. 

"I feel sure, " she began, "that you are not surprised at seeing me hereat this time of night. He" (Mariana pointed to Nejdanov) "has no doubttold you everything. Give me your hand, please, and believe me an honestgirl is standing before you. "

"I am convinced of that, " Solomin said seriously. 

He had risen from his chair as soon as Mariana had appeared. "I hadalready noticed you at table and was struck by the frank expression ofyour eyes. Nejdanov told me about your intentions. But may I ask why youwant to run away. "

"What a question! The cause with which I am fully in sympathy. .. Don'tbe surprised. Nejdanov has kept nothing from me. .. The great work isabout to begin. .. And am I to remain in this house, where everything isdeceit and falsehood? People I love will be exposed to danger, and I--"

Solomin stopped her by a wave of the hand. 

"Calm yourself. Sit down, please, and you sit down too, Nejdanov. Let usall sit down. Listen to me! If you have no other reason than the oneyou have mentioned, then there's no need for you to run away as yet. The work will not begin so soon as you seem to anticipate. A little moreprudent consideration is needed in this matter. It's no good plunging intoo soon, believe me. "

Mariana sat down and wrapped herself up in a large plaid, which she hadthrown over her shoulders. 

"But I can't stay here any longer! I am being insulted by everybody. Only today that idiot Anna Zaharovna said before Kolia, alluding to myfather, that a bad tree does not bring forth good fruit! Kolia waseven surprised, and asked what it meant. Not to speak of ValentinaMihailovna!"

Solomin stopped her again, this time with a smile. 

Mariana felt that he was laughing at her a little, but this smile couldnot have offended any one. 

"But, my dear lady, I don't know who Anna Zaharovna is, nor what treeyou are talking about. A foolish woman says some foolish things to youand you can't endure it! How will you live in that case? The wholeworld is composed of fools. Your reason is not good enough. Have you anyother?"

"I am convinced, " Nejdanov interposed in a hollow voice, "that Mr. Sipiagin will turn me out of the house tomorrow of his own accord. Someone must have told him. He treats me. .. In the most contemptuousmanner. "

Solomin turned to Nejdanov. 

"If that's the case, then why run away?"

Nejdanov did not know what to say. 

"But I've already told you--, " he began. 

"He said that, " Mariana put in, "because I am going with him. "

Solomin looked at her and shook his head good-naturedly. 

"In that case, my dear lady, I say again, that if you want to leave herebecause you think the revolution is about to break out--"

"That was precisely why we asked you to come, " Mariana interrupted him;"we wanted to find out exactly how matters stood. "

"If that's your reason for going, " Solomin continued, "I repeat oncemore, you can stay at home for some time to come yet, but if you wantto run away because you love each other and can't be united otherwise, then--"

"Well? What then?"

"Then I must first congratulate you and, if need be, give you all thehelp in my power. I may say, my dear lady, that I took a liking to youboth at first sight and love you as brother and sister. "

Mariana and Nejdanov both went up to him on the right and left and eachclasped a hand. 

"Only tell us what to do, " Mariana implored. "Supposing the revolutionis still far off, there must be preparatory work to be done, a thingimpossible in this house, in the midst of these surroundings. We shouldso gladly go together. .. Show us what we can do; tell us where to go. .. Send us anywhere you like! You will send us, won't you?"

"Where to?

"To the people. .. . Where can one go if not among the people?"

"Into the forest, " Nejdanov thought, calling to mind Paklin's words. 

Solomin looked intently at Mariana. 

"Do you want to know the people?"

"Yes; that is, we not only want to get to know them, but we want towork. .. To toil for them. "

"Very well. I promise you that you shall get to know them. I will giveyou the opportunity of doing as you wish. And you, Nejdanov, are youready to go for her. .. And for them?"

"Of course I am, " he said hastily. "Juggernaut, " another word ofPaklin's, flashed across his mind. "Here it comes thundering along, thehuge chariot. .. I can hear the crash and rumble of its wheels. "

"Very well, " Solomin repeated pensively. "But when do you want to goaway?"

"Tomorrow, if possible, " Mariana observed. 

"Very good. But where?"

"Sh, sh--" Nejdanov whispered. "Someone is walking along the corridor. "

They were all silent for a time. 

"But where do you want to go to?" Solomin asked again, lowering hisvoice. 

"We don't know, " Mariana replied. 

Solomin glanced at Nejdanov, but the latter merely shook his head. 

Solomin stretched out his hand and carefully snuffed the candle. 

"I tell you what, my children, " he said at last, "come to me at thefactory. It's not beautiful there, but safe, at any rate. I will hideyou. I have a little spare room there. Nobody will find you. If only youget there, we won't give you up. You might think that there are far toomany people about, but that's one of its good points. Where there is acrowd it's easy to hide. Will you come? Will you?"

"How can we thank you enough!" Nejdanov exclaimed, whilst Mariana, whowas at first a little taken aback by the idea of the factory, addedquickly:

"Of course, of course! How good of you! But you won't leave us therelong, will you? You will send us on, won't you?"

"That will depend entirely on yourselves. .. If you should want to getmarried that could also be arranged at the factory. I have a neighbourthere close by--a cousin of mine, a priest, and very friendly. He wouldmarry you with the greatest of pleasure. "

Mariana smiled to herself, while Nejdanov again pressed Solomin's hand. 

"But I say, won't your employer, the owner of the factory, be annoyedabout it. Won't he make it unpleasant for you?" he asked after a pause. 

Solomin looked askance at Nejdanov. 

"Oh, don't bother about me! It's quite unnecessary. So long as things atthe factory go on all right it's all the same to my employer. You needneither of you fear the least unpleasantness. And you need not be afraidof the workpeople either. Only let me know what time to expect you. "

Nejdanov and Mariana exchanged glances. 

"The day after tomorrow, early in the morning, or the day after that. Wecan't wait any longer. As likely as not they'll tell me to go tomorrow. "

"Well then, " Solomin said, rising from his chair. "I'll wait for youevery morning. I won't leave the place for the rest of the week. Everyprecaution will be taken. "

Mariana drew near to him (she was on her way to the door). "Goodbye, mydear kind Vassily Fedotitch. .. That is your name, isn't it?"

"That's right. "

"Goodbye till we meet again. And thank you so much!"

"Goodbye, good night!"

"Goodbye, Nejdanov; till tomorrow, " she added, and went out quickly. 

The young men remained for some time motionless, and both were silent. 

"Nejdanov. .. " Solomin began at last, and stopped. "Nejdanov. .. " he begana second time, "tell me about this girl. .. Tell me everything you can. What has her life been until now? Who is she? Why is she here?"

Nejdanov told Solomin briefly what he knew about her. "Nejdanov, "he said at last, "you must take great care of her, because. .. If. .. Anything. .. Were to happen, you would be very much to blame. Goodbye. "

He went out, while Nejdanov stood still for a time in the middle of theroom, and muttering, "Oh dear! It's better not to think!" threw himselfface downwards on the bed. 

When Mariana returned to her room she found a note on the tablecontaining the following:

"I am sorry for you. You are ruining yourself. Think what you are doing. Into what abysses are you throwing yourself with your eyes shut. Forwhom and for what?--V. "

There was a peculiarly fine fresh scent in the room; evidentlyValentina Mihailovna had only just left it. Mariana took a pen and wroteunderneath: "You need not be sorry for me. God knows which of us twois more in need of pity. I only know that I wouldn't like to be in yourplace for worlds. --M. " She put the note on the table, not doubting thatit would fall into Valentina Mihailovna's hand. 

On the following morning, Solomin, after seeing Nejdanov and definitelydeclining to undertake the management of Sipiagin's factory, set out forhome. He mused all the way home, a thing that rarely occurred withhim; the motion of the carriage usually had a drowsy effect on him. Hethought of Mariana and of Nejdanov; it seemed to him that if he had beenin love--he, Solomin--he would have had quite a different air, wouldhave looked and spoken differently. "But, " he thought, "such a thing hasnever happened to me, so I can't tell what sort of an air I would have. "He recalled an Irish girl whom he had once seen in a shop behind acounter; recalled her wonderful black hair, blue eyes, and thick lashes, and how she had looked at him with a sad, wistful expression, and how hehad paced up and down the street before her window for a long time, howexcited he had been, and had kept asking himself if he should try andget to know her. He was in London at the time, where he had been sentby his employer with a sum of money to make various purchases. He verynearly decided to remain in London and send back the money, so strongwas the impression produced on him by the beautiful Polly. (He had gotto know her name, one of the other girls had called her by it. ) He hadmastered himself, however, and went back to his employer. Polly was morebeautiful than Mariana, but Mariana had the same sad, wistful expressionin her eyes. .. And Mariana was a Russian. 

"But what am I doing?" Solomin exclaimed in an undertone, "botheringabout other men's brides!" and he shook back the collar of his coat, asif he wanted to shake off all superfluous thoughts. Just then he droveup to the factory and caught sight of the faithful Pavel in the doorwayof his little dwelling. 

XXVI

SOLOMIN'S refusal greatly offended Sipiagin; so much so, that hesuddenly found that this home-bred Stevenson was not such a wonderfulengineer after all, and that though he was not perhaps a complete poser, yet gave himself airs like the plebeian he was. "All these Russians whenthey imagine they know a thing become insufferable! Au fond Kollomietzevwas right!" Under the influence of such hostile and irritablesensations, the statesman--en herbe--was even more unsympathetic anddistant in his intercourse with Nejdanov. He told Kolia that he neednot take lessons that day and that he must try to be more independent infuture. He did not, however, dismiss the tutor himself as the latter hadexpected, but continued to ignore him. But Valentina Mihailovna did notignore Mariana. A dreadful scene took place between them. 

About two hours before dinner they suddenly found themselves alone inthe drawing-room. They both felt that the inevitable moment for thebattle had arrived and, after a moment's hesitation, instinctively drewnear to one another. Valentina Mihailovna was slightly smiling, Marianapressed her lips firmly together; both were pale. When walking acrossthe room, Valentina Mihailovna looked uneasily to the right and leftand tore off a geranium leaf. Mariana's eyes were fixed straight on thesmiling face coming towards her. Madame Sipiagina was the first to stop, and drumming her finger-tips on the back of a chair began in a free andeasy tone:

"Mariana Vikentievna, it seems that we have entered upon acorrespondence with one another. .. Living under the same roof as we doit strikes me as being rather strange. And you know I am not very fondof strange things. "

"I did not begin the correspondence, Valentina Mihailovna. "

"That is true. As it happens, I am to blame in that. Only I could notthink of any other means of arousing in you a feeling. .. How shall Isay? A feeling--"

"You can speak quite plainly, Valentina Mihailovna. You need not beafraid of offending me. "

"A feeling. .. Of propriety. "

Valentina Mihailovna ceased; nothing but the drumming of her fingerscould be heard in the room. 

"In what way do you think I have failed to observe the rules ofpropriety?" Mariana asked. 

Valentina Mihailovna shrugged her shoulders. 

"Ma chere, vous n'etes plus un enfant--I think you know what I mean. Doyou suppose that your behaviour could have remained a secret to me, toAnna Zaharovna, to the whole household in fact? However, I must say youare not over-particular about secrecy. You simply acted in bravado. OnlyBoris Andraevitch does not know what you have done. .. But he is occupiedwith far more serious and important matters. Apart from him, everybodyelse knows, everybody!"

Mariana's pallor increased. 

"I must ask you to express yourself more clearly, Valentina Mihailovna. What is it you are displeased about?"

"L'insolente!" Madame Sipiagina thought, but contained herself. 

"Do you want to know why I am displeased with you, Mariana? Then I musttell you that I disapprove of your prolonged interviews with a young manwho is very much beneath you in birth, breeding, and social position. I am displeased. .. No! this word is far too mild--I am shocked at yourlate. .. Your night visits to this young man! And where does it happen?Under my own roof! Perhaps you see nothing wrong in it and think thatit has nothing to do with me, that I should be silent and thereby screenyour disgraceful conduct. As an honourable woman. .. Oui, mademoiselle, je l'ai ete, je le suis, et je le serai tu'jours! I can't help beinghorrified at such proceedings!"

Valentina Mihailovna threw herself into an armchair as if overcome byher indignation. Mariana smiled for the first time. 

"I do not doubt your honour--past, present, and to come, " she began;"and I mean this quite sincerely. Your indignation is needless. I havebrought no shame on your house. The young man whom you alluded to. .. Yes, I have certainly. .. Fallen in love with him. "

"You love Mr. Nejdanov?"

"Yes, I love him. "

Valentina Mihailovna sat up straight in her chair. 

"But, Mariana! he's only a student, of no birth, no family, and heis younger than you are!" (These words were pronounced not without acertain spiteful pleasure. ) "What earthly good can come of it? What doyou see in him? He is only an empty-headed boy. "

"That was not always your opinion of him, Valentina Mihailovna. "

"For heaven's sake leave me out of the question, my dear!. .. Pas tantd'esprit que ca, je vous prie. The thing concerns you and your future. Just consider for a moment. What sort of a match is this for you?"

"I must confess, Valentina Mihailovna, that I did not look at it in thatlight. "

"What? What did you say? What am I to think? Let us assume that youfollowed the dictates of your heart, but then it must end in marriagesometime or other. "

"I don't know. .. I had not thought of that. "

"You had not thought of that? You must be mad!"

Mariana turned away. 

"Let us make an end of this conversation, Valentina Mihailovna. It won'tlead to anything. In any case we won't understand each other. "

Valentina Mihailovna started up. 

"I can't, I won't put an end to this conversation! It's far tooserious. .. I am responsible for you before. .. "

Valentina Mihailovna was going to say God, but hesitated and added, "before the whole world! I can't be silent when I hear such uttermadness! And why can't I understand you, pray? What insufferable pridethese young people have nowadays! On the contrary, I understand you onlytoo well. .. I can see that you are infected with these new ideas, whichwill only be your ruin. It will be too late to turn back then. "

"Maybe; but believe me, even if we perish, we will not so much asstretch out a finger that you might save us!"

"Pride again! This awful pride! But listen, Mariana, listen to me, " sheadded, suddenly changing her tone. She wanted to draw Mariana nearer toherself, but the latter stepped back a pace. "Ecoutez-moi, je vous enconjure! After all, I am not so old nor so stupid that it shouldbe impossible for us to understand each other! Je ne suis pas uneencroutee. I was even considered a republican as a girl. . No lessthan you. Listen, I won't pretend that I ever had any motherly feelingtowards you. .. And it is not in your nature to complain of that. .. But Ialways felt, and feel now, that I owed certain duties towards you, andI have always endeavoured to fulfil them. Perhaps the match I had inmy mind for you, for which both Boris Andraevitch and I would have beenready to make any sacrifice. .. May not have been fully in accordancewith your ideas. .. But in the bottom of my heart--"

Mariana looked at Valentina Mihailovna, at her wonderful eyes, herslightly painted lips, at her white hands, the parted fingers adornedwith rings, which the elegant lady so energetically pressed against thebodice of her silk dress. 

Suddenly she interrupted her. 

"Did you say a match, Valentina Mihailovna? Do you call that heartless, vulgar friend of yours, Mr. Kollomietzev, 'a match?'"

Valentina Mihailovna took her fingers from her bodice. "Yes, MarianaVikentievna! I am speaking of that cultured, excellent young man, Mr. Kollomietzev, who would make a wife happy and whom only a mad-womancould refuse! Yes, only a mad-woman!"

"What can I do, ma tante? It seems that I am mad!"

"Have you anything serious against him?"

"Nothing whatever. I simply despise him. " Valentina Mihailovna shook herhead impatiently and dropped into her chair again. 

"Let us leave him. Retournons a nos moutons. And so you love Mr. Nejdanov?"

"Yes. "

"And do you intend to continue your interviews with him?"

"Yes. "

"But supposing I forbid it?"

"I won't listen to you. "

Valentina Mihailovna sprang up from her chair. "What! You won't listento me! I see. .. And that is said to me by a girl who has known nothingbut kindness from me, whom I have brought up in my own house, that issaid to me. .. Said to me--"

"By the daughter of a disgraced father, " Mariana put in, sternly. "Goon, don't be on ceremonies!"

"Ce n'est pas moi qui vous le fait dire, mademoiselle! In any case, thatis nothing to be proud of! A girl who lives at my expense--"

"Don't throw that in my face, Valentina Mihailovna! It would cost youmore to keep a French governess for Kolia. .. It is I who give him Frenchlessons!"

Valentina Mihailovna raised a hand holding a scented cambricpocket-handkerchief with a large white monogram embroidered in onecorner and tried to say something, but Mariana continued passionately:

"You would have been right, a thousand times right, if, instead ofcounting up all your petty benefits and sacrifices, you could have beenin a position to say 'the girl I loved'. .. But you are too honest to lieabout that!" Mariana trembled feverishly. "You have always hated me. Andeven now you are glad in the bottom of your heart--that same heartyou have just mentioned--glad that I am justifying your constantpredictions, covering myself with shame and scandal--you are onlyannoyed because part of this shame is bound to fall on your virtuous, aristocratic house!

"You are insulting me, " Valentina Mihailovna whispered. "Be kind enoughto leave the room!"

But Mariana could no longer contain herself. "Your household, you said, all your household, Anna Zaharovna and everybody knows of my behaviour!And every one is horrified and indignant. .. But am I asking anything ofyou, of all these people? Do you think I care for their good opinion?Do you think that eating your bread has been sweet? I would prefer thegreatest poverty to this luxury. There is a gulf between me andyour house, an interminable gulf that cannot be crossed. You are anintelligent woman, don't you feel it too? And if you hate me, what doyou think I feel towards you? We won't go into unnecessary details, it'stoo obvious. "

"Sortez, sortez, vous dis-je. .. " Valentina Mihailovna repeated, stampingher pretty little foot. 

Mariana took a few steps towards the door. 

"I will rid you of my presence directly, only do you know what, Valentina Mihailovna? They say that in Racine's 'Bajazet' even Rachel'ssortez! was not effective, and you don't come anywhere near her! Then, what was it you said. .. Je suis une honnete femme, je l'ai et le seraitoujours? But I am convinced that I am far more honest than you are!Goodbye!"

Mariana went out quickly and Valentina Mihailovna sprang up from herchair. She wanted to scream, to cry, but did not know what to screamabout, and the tears would not come at her bidding. 

So she fanned herself with her pocket-handkerchief, but the strong scentof it affected her nerves still more. She felt miserable, insulted. .. She was conscious of a certain amount of truth in what she had justheard, but how could anyone be so unjust to her? "Am I really so bad?"she thought, and looked at herself in a mirror hanging opposite betweentwo windows. The looking-glass reflected a charming face, somewhatexcited, the colour coming and going, but still a fascinating face, withwonderful soft, velvety eyes. .. 

"I? I am bad?" she thought again. .. . "With such eyes?"

But at this moment her husband entered the room and she again coveredher face with her pocket-handkerchief. 

"What is the matter with you?" he asked anxiously. "What is the matter, Valia?" (He had invented this pet name, but only allowed himself to useit when they were quite alone, particularly in the country. )

At first she declared that there was nothing the matter, but ended byturning around in her chair in a very charming and touching manner and, flinging her arms round his shoulders (he stood bending over her) andhiding her face in the slit of his waistcoat, told him everything. Without any hypocrisy or any interested motive on her part, she triedto excuse Mariana as much as she could, putting all the blame on herextreme youth, her passionate temperament, and the defects of her earlyeducation. In the same way she also, without any hidden motive, blamedherself a great deal, saying, "With a daughter of mine this wouldnever have happened! I would have looked after her quite differently!"Sipiagin listened to her indulgently, sympathetically, but with a severeexpression on his face. He continued standing in a stooping positionwithout moving his head so long as she held her arms round hisshoulders; he called her an angel, kissed her on the forehead, declaredthat he now knew what course he must pursue as head of the house, and went out, carrying himself like an energetic humane man, who wasconscious of having to perform an unpleasant but necessary duty. 

At eight o'clock, after dinner, Nejdanov was sitting in his room writingto his friend Silin. 

"MY DEAR VLADIMIR, --I write to you at a critical moment of my life. Ihave been dismissed from this house, I am going away from here. That initself would be nothing--I am not going alone. The girl I wrote to youabout is coming with me. We are drawn together by the similarity of ourfate in life, by our loneliness, convictions, aspirations, and, aboveall, by our mutual love. Yes, we love each other. I am convinced thatI could not experience the passion of love in any other form than thatwhich presents itself to me now. But I should not be speaking thetruth if I were to say that I had no mysterious fear, no misgivings atheart. .. Everything in front of us is enveloped in darkness and we areplunging into that darkness. I need not tell you what we are goingfor and what we have chosen to do. Mariana and I are not in search ofhappiness or vain delight; we want to enter the fight together, side byside, supporting each other. Our aim is clear to us, but we do not knowthe roads that lead to it. Shall we find, if not help and sympathy atany rate, the opportunity to work? Mariana is a wonderfully honest girl. Should we be fated to perish, I will not blame myself for having enticedher away, because now no other life is possible for her. But, Vladimir, Vladimir! I feel so miserable. .. I am torn by doubt, not in my feelingstowards her, of course, but. .. I do not know! And it is too late to turnback. Stretch out your hands to us from afar, and wish us patience, thepower of self-sacrifice, and love. .. Most of all love. And ye, Russianpeople, unknown to us, but beloved by us with all the force of ourbeings, with our hearts' blood, receive us in your midst, be kind to us, and teach us what we may expect from you. Goodbye, Vladimir, goodbye!"

Having finished these few lines Nejdanov set out for the village. 

The following night, before daybreak, he stood on the outskirts of thebirch grove, not far from Sipiagin's garden. A little further on behindthe tangled branches of a nut-bush stood a peasant cart harnessed toa pair of unbridled horses. Inside, under the seat of plaited rope, alittle grey old peasant was lying asleep on a bundle of hay, covered upto the ears with an old patched coat. Nejdanov kept looking eagerly atthe road, at the clumps of laburnums at the bottom of the garden; thestill grey night lay around; the little stars did their best to outshineone another and were lost in the vast expanse of sky. To the east therounded edges of the spreading clouds were tinged with a faint flush ofdawn. Suddenly Nejdanov trembled and became alert. Something squeakednear by, the opening of a gate was heard; a tiny feminine creature, wrapped up in a shawl with a bundle slung over her bare arm, walkedslowly out of the deep shadow of the laburnums into the dusty road, and crossing over as if on tip-toe, turned towards the grove. Nejdanovrushed towards her. 

"Mariana?" he whispered. 

"It's I!" came a soft reply from under the shawl. 

"This way, come with me, " Nejdanov responded, seizing her awkwardly bythe bare arm, holding the bundle. 

She trembled as if with cold. He led her up to the cart and woke thepeasant. The latter jumped up quickly, instantly took his seat on thebox, put his arms into the coat sleeves, and seized the rope that servedas reins. The horses moved; he encouraged them cautiously in a voicestill hoarse from a heavy sleep. Nejdanov placed Mariana on the seat, first spreading out his cloak for her to sit on, wrapped her feet in arug, as the hay was rather damp, and sitting down beside her, gave theorder to start. The peasant pulled the reins, the horses came out ofthe grove, snorting and shaking themselves, and bumping and rattling itssmall wheels the cart rolled out on to the road. Nejdanov had hisarm round Mariana's waist, while she, raising the shawl with her coldfingers and turning her smiling face towards him, exclaimed: "Howbeautifully fresh the air is, Aliosha!"

"Yes, " the peasant replied, "there'll be a heavy dew!"

There was already such a heavy dew that the axles of the cart wheels asthey caught in the tall grass along the roadside shook off whole showersof tiny drops and the grass looked silver-grey. 

Mariana again trembled from the cold. 

"How cold it is!" she said gaily. "But freedom, Aliosha, freedom!"

XXVII

SOLOMIN rushed out to the factory gates as soon as he was informed thatsome sort of gentleman, with a lady, who had arrived in a cart, wasasking for him. Without a word of greeting to his visitors, merelynodding his head to them several times, he told the peasant to driveinto the yard, and asking him to stop before his own little dwelling, helped Mariana out of the cart. Nejdanov jumped out after her. Solominconducted them both through a long dark passage, up a narrow, crookedlittle staircase at the back of the house, up to the second floor. Heopened a door and they all went into a tiny neat little room with twowindows. 

"I'm so glad you've come!" Solomin exclaimed, with his habitual smile, which now seemed even broader and brighter than usual. 

"Here are your rooms. This one and another adjoining it. Not much tolook at, but never mind, one can live here and there's no one to spyon you. Just under your window there is what my employer calls a flowergarden, but which I should call a kitchen garden. It lies right upagainst the wall and there are hedges to right and left. A quiet littlespot. Well, how are you, my dear lady? And how are you, Nejdanov?"

He shook hands with them both. They stood motionless, not taking offtheir things, and with silent, half-bewildered, half-joyful emotiongazed straight in front of them. 

"Well? Why don't you take your things off?" Solomin asked. "Have youmuch luggage?"

Mariana held up her little bundle. 

"I have only this. "

"I have a portmanteau and a bag, which I left in the cart. I'll goand--"

"Don't bother, don't bother. " Solomin opened the door. "Pavel!" heshouted down the dark staircase, "run and fetch the things from thecart!"

"All right!" answered the never-failing Pavel. 

Solomin turned to Mariana, who had taken off her shawl and wasunfastening her cloak. 

"Did everything go off happily?" he asked. 

"Quite. .. Not a soul saw us. I left a letter for Madame Sipiagina. Vassily Fedotitch, I didn't bring any clothes with me, becauseyou're going to send us. .. " (Mariana wanted to say to the people, buthesitated). "They wouldn't have been of any use in any case. I havemoney to buy what is necessary. "

"We'll see to that later on. .. Ah!" he exclaimed, pointing to Pavel whowas at that moment coming in together with Nejdanov and the luggage fromThe cart, "I can recommend you my best friend here. You may rely onhim absolutely, as you would on me. Have you told Tatiana about thesamovar?" he added in an undertone. 

"It will soon be ready, " Pavel replied; "and cream and everything. "

"Tatiana is Pavel's wife and just as reliable as he is, " Solomincontinued. "Until you get used to things, my dear lady, she will lookafter you. "

Mariana flung her cloak on to a couch covered with leather, which wasstanding in a corner of the room. 

"Will you please call me Mariana, Vassily Fedotitch; I don't want to bea lady, neither do I want servants. .. I did not go away from there to bewaited on. Don't look at my dress--I hadn't any other. I must change allthat now. "

Her dress of fine brown cloth was very simple, but made by a St. Petersburg dressmaker. It fitted beautifully round her waist andshoulders and had altogether a fashionable air. 

"Well, not a servant if you like, but a help, in the American fashion. But you must have some tea. It's early yet, but you are both tired, nodoubt. I have to be at the factory now on business, but will look inlater on. If you want anything, ask Pavel or Tatiana. "

Mariana held out both her hands to him quickly. 

"How can we thank you enough, Vassily Fedotitch?" She looked at him withemotion. Solomin stroked one of her hands gently. "I should say it'snot worth thanking for, but that wouldn't be true. I had better saythat your thanks give me the greatest of pleasure. So we are quits. Goodmorning. Come along, Pavel. "

Mariana and Nejdanov were left alone. 

She rushed up to him and looked at him with the same expression withwhich she had looked at Solomin, only with even greater delight, emotion, radiance: "Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed. "We are beginning a newlife. .. At last! At last! You can't believe how this poor little room, where we are to spend a few days, seems sweet and charming compared tothose hateful palaces! Are you glad?"

Nejdanov took her hands and pressed them against his breast. 

"I am happy, Mariana, to begin this new life with you! You will be myguiding star, my support, my strength--"

"Dear, darling Aliosha! But stop--we must wash and tidy ourselves alittle. I will go into my room. .. And you. .. Stay here. I won't be aminute--"

Mariana went into the other room and shut the door. A minute later sheopened it half-way and, putting her head through, said: "Isn't Solominnice!" Then she shut the door again and the key turned in the lock. 

Nejdanov went up to the window and looked out into the garden. .. Oneold, very old, apple tree particularly attracted his attention. He shookhimself, stretched, opened his portmanteau, but took nothing out of it;he became lost in thought. .. 

A quarter of an hour later Mariana returned with a beaming, freshly-washed face, brimming over with gaiety, and a few minutes laterTatiana, Pavel's wife, appeared with the samovar, tea things, rolls, andcream. 

In striking contrast to her gipsy-like husband she was a typicalRussian--buxom, with masses of flaxen hair, which she wore in athick plait twisted round a horn comb. She had coarse though pleasantfeatures, good-natured grey eyes, and was dressed in a very neat thoughsomewhat faded print dress. Her hands were clean and well-shaped, though large. She bowed composedly, greeted them in a firm, clearaccent without any sing-song about it, and set to work arranging the teathings. 

Mariana went up to her. 

"Let me help you, Tatiana. Only give me a napkin. "

"Don't bother, miss, we are used to it. Vassily Fedotitch told me to. If you want anything please let us know. We shall be delighted to doanything we can. "

"Please don't call me miss, Tatiana. I am dressed like a lady, but Iam. .. I am quite--"

Tatiana's penetrating glance disconcerted Mariana; she ceased. 

"And what are you then?" Tatiana asked in her steady voice. 

"If you really want to know. .. I am certainly a lady by birth. But Iwant to get rid of all that. I want to become like all simple women. "

"Oh, I see! You want to become simplified, like so many do nowadays. "

"What did you say, Tatiana? To become simplified?"

"Yes, that's a word that has sprung up among us. To become simplifiedmeans to be like the common people. Teaching the people is all verywell in its way, but it must be a difficult task, very difficult! I hopeyou'll get on. "

"To become simplified!" Mariana repeated. "Do you hear, Aliosha, you andI have now become simplified!"

"Is he your husband or your brother?" Tatiana asked, carefully washingthe cups with her large, skilful hands as she looked from one to theother with a kindly smile. 

"No, " Mariana replied; "he is neither my husband nor my brother. "

Tatiana raised her head. 

"Then you are just living together freely? That also happens very oftennow. At one time it was to be met with only among nonconformists, butnowadays other folks do it too. Where there is God's blessing you canlive in peace without the priest's aid. We have some living like that atthe factory. Not the worst of folk either. "

"What nice words you use, Tatiana! 'Living together freely'. .. I likethat. I'll tell you what I want to ask of you, Tatiana. I want to makeor buy a dress, something like yours, only a little plainer. Then I wantshoes and stockings and a kerchief--everything like you have. I've gotsome money. "

"That's quite easy, miss. .. There, there, don't be cross. I won't callyou miss if you don't like it. But what am I to call you?"

"Call me Mariana. "

"And what is your father's Christian name?"

"Why do you want my father's name? Call me simply Mariana, as I call youTatiana. "

"I don't like to somehow. You had better tell me. "

"As you like. My father's name was Vikent. And what was your father's?

"He was called Osip. "

"Then I shall call you Tatiana Osipovna. "

"And I'll call you Mariana Vikentievna. That will be splendid. "

"Won't you take a cup of tea with us, Tatiana Osipovna?"

"For once I will, Mariana Vikentievna, although Egoritch will scold meafterwards. "

"Who is Egoritch?"

"Pavel, my husband. "

"Sit down, Tatiana Osipovna. "

"Thank you, Mariana Vikentievna. "

Tatiana sat down and began sipping her tea and nibbling pieces of sugar. She kept turning the lump of sugar round in her fingers, screwing up hereye on the side on which she bit it. Mariana entered into conversationwith her and she replied quite at her ease, asked questions in her turn, and volunteered various pieces of information. She simply worshippedSolomin and put her husband only second to him. She did not, however, care for the factory life. 

"It's neither town nor country here. I wouldn't stop an hour if it werenot for Vassily Fedotitch!"

Mariana listened to her attentively, while Nejdanov, sitting a little toone side, watched her and wondered at her interest. For Mariana it wasall so new, but it seemed to him that he had seen crowds of women likeTatiana and spoken to them hundreds of times. 

"Do you know, Tatiana Osipovna?" Mariana began at last; "you think thatwe want to teach the people, but we want to serve them. "

"Serve them? Teach them; that's the best thing you can do for them. Lookat me, for instance. When I married Egoritch I didn't so much as knowhow to read and write. Now I've learned, thanks to Vassily Fedotitch. He didn't teach me himself, he paid an old man to do it. It was he whotaught me. You see I'm still young, although I'm grown up. "

Mariana was silent. 

"I wanted to learn some sort of trade, Tatiana Osipovna, " Mariana began;"we must talk about that later on. I'm not good at sewing, but if Icould learn to cook, then I could go out as a cook. "

Tatiana became thoughtful. 

"Why a cook? Only rich people and merchants keep cooks; the poor dotheir own cooking. And to cook at a mess for workmen. .. Why you couldn'tdo that!"

"But I could live in a rich man's house and get to know poor people. Howelse can I get to know them? I shall not always have such an opportunityas I have with you. "

Tatiana turned her empty cup upside down on the saucer. 

"It's a difficult matter, " she said at last with a sigh, "and can't besettled so easily. I'll do what I can, but I'm not very clever. We musttalk it over with Egoritch. He's clever if you like! Reads all sortsof books and has everything at his fingers' ends. " At this point sheglanced at Mariana who was rolling up a cigarette. 

"You'll excuse me, Mariana Vikentievna, but if you really want to becomesimplified you must give that up. " She pointed to the cigarette. "If youwant to be a cook, that would never do. Everyone would see at once thatyou are a lady. "

Mariana threw the cigarette out of the window. 

"I won't smoke any more. .. It's quite easy to give that up. Women of thepeople don't smoke, so I suppose I ought not to. "

"That's quite true, Mariana Vikentievna. Our men indulge in it, but notthe women. And here's Vassily Fedotitch coming to see you. Those arehis steps. You ask him. He'll arrange everything for you in the bestpossible way. "

Solomin's voice was heard at the door. 

"Can I come in?"

"Come in, come in!" Mariana called out. 

"It's an English habit of mine, " Solomin observed as he came in. "Well, and how are you getting on? Not homesick yet, eh? I see you're havingtea with Tatiana. You listen to her, she's a sensible person. Myemployer is coming today. It's rather a nuisance. He's staying todinner. But it can't be helped. He's the master. "

"What sort of a man is he?" Nejdanov asked, coming out of his corner. 

"Oh, he's not bad. .. Knows what he's about. One of the new generation. He's very polite, wears cuffs, and has his eyes about him no less thanthe old sort. He would skin a flint with his own hands and say, 'Turnto this side a little, please. .. There is still a living spot here. .. Imust clean it!' He's nice enough to me, because I'm necessary to him. I just looked in to say that I may not get a chance of seeing youagain today. Dinner will be brought to you here, and please don't showyourselves in the yard. Do you think the Sipiagins will make a searchfor you, Mariana? Will they make a hunt?"

"I don't think so, " Mariana replied. 

"And I think they will, " Nejdanov remarked. 

"It doesn't matter either way, " Solomin continued. "You must be a littlecareful at first, but in a short time you can do as you like. "

"Yes; only there's one thing, " Nejdanov observed, "Markelov must knowwhere I am; he must be informed. "

"But why?"

"I am afraid it must be done--for the cause. He must always know mywhereabouts. I've given my word. But he's quite safe, you know!"

"Very well. We can send Pavel. "

"And will my clothes be ready for me?"

"Your special costume you mean? Why, of course. .. The same masquerade. It's not expensive at any rate. Goodbye. You must be tired. Come, Tatiana. "

Mariana and Nejdanov were left alone again. 

XXVIII

FIRST they clasped each other's hands, then Mariana offered to help himtidy his room. She immediately began unpacking his portmanteau and bag, declining his offer of help on the ground that she must get used to workand wished to do it all herself. She hung his clothes on nails which shediscovered in the table drawer and knocked into the wall with the backof a hairbrush for want of a hammer. Then she arranged his linen in alittle old chest of drawers standing in between the two windows. 

"What is this?" she asked suddenly. "Why, it's a revolver. Is it loaded?What do you want it for?"

"It is not loaded. .. But you had better give it to me. You want to knowwhy I have it? How can one get on without a revolver in our calling?"

She laughed and went on with her work, shaking each thing out separatelyand beating it with her hand; she even stood two pairs of boots underthe sofa; the few books, packet of papers, and tiny copy-book of versesshe placed triumphantly upon a three-cornered table, calling it awriting and work table, while the other, a round one, she called adining and tea table. Then she took up the copy-book of verses in bothhands and, raising it on a level with her face, looked over the edge atNejdanov and said with a smile:

"We will read this together when we have some time to spare, won't we?

"Give it to me! I'll burn it!" Nejdanov burst out. "That's all it's fitfor!

"Then why did you take it with you? No, I won't let you burn it. However, authors are always threatening to burn their things, but theynever do. I will put it in my room. "

Nejdanov was just about to protest when Mariana rushed into the nextroom with the copy-book and came back without it. 

She sat down beside him, but instantly got up again. "You have not yetbeen in my room; would you like to see it? It's quite as nice as yours. Come and look. "

Nejdanov rose and followed her. Her room, as she called it, was somewhatsmaller than his, but the furniture was altogether smarter and newer. Some flowers in a crystal vase stood on the window-sill and there was aniron bedstead in a corner. 

"Isn't Solomin a darling!" Mariana exclaimed. "But we mustn't get toospoiled. I don't suppose we shall often have rooms like these. Do youknow what I've been thinking? It would be rather nice if we could get aplace together so that we need not part! It will probably be difficult, "she added after a pause; "but we must think of it. But all the same, youwon't go back to St. Petersburg, will you?

"What should I do in St. Petersburg? Attend lectures at the universityor give lessons? That's no use to me now. "

"We must ask Solomin, " Mariana observed. "He will know best. "

They went back to the other room and sat down beside each other again. They praised Solomin, Tatiana, Pavel; spoke of the Sipiagins and howtheir former life had receded from them far into the distance, asif enveloped in a mist; then they clasped each other's hand again, exchanged tender glances; wondered what class they had better go amongfirst, and how to behave so that people should not suspect them. 

Nejdanov declared that the less they thought about that, and the morenaturally they behaved, the better. 

"Of course! We want to become simple, as Tatiana says. "

"I didn't mean it in that sense, " Nejdanov began; "I meant that we mustnot be self-conscious. "

Mariana suddenly burst out laughing. 

"Do you remember, Aliosha, how I said that we had both becomesimplified?"

Nejdanov also laughed, repeated "simplified, " and began musing. Marianatoo became pensive. 

"Aliosha!" she exclaimed. 

"What is it?"

"It seems to me that we are both a little uncomfortable. Young--desnouveaux maries, " she explained, "when away on their honeymoon no doubtfeel as we do. They are happy. .. All is well with them--but they feeluncomfortable. "

Nejdanov gave a forced smile. 

"You know very well, Mariana, that we are not young in that sense. "

Mariana rose from her chair and stood before him. 

"That depends on yourself. "

"How?"

"Aliosha, you know, dear, that when you tell me, as a man of honour. .. And I will believe you because I know you are honourable; when you tellme that you love me with that love. .. The love that gives one person theright over another's life, when you tell me that--I am yours. "

Nejdanov blushed and turned away a little. 

"When I tell you that. .. 

"Yes, then! But you see, Aliosha, you don't say that to me now. .. Ohyes, Aliosha, you are truly an honourable man. Enough of this! Let ustalk of more serious things. "

"But I do love you, Mariana!"

"I don't doubt that. .. And shall wait. But there, I have not quitefinished arranging your writing table. Here is something wrapped up, something hard. "

Nejdanov sprang up from his chair. 

"Don't touch that, Mariana. .. Leave it alone, please!"

Mariana looked at him over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows inamazement. 

Is it a mystery? A secret? Have you a secret?

"Yes. .. Yes. .. " Nejdanov stammered out, and added by way of explanation, "it's a portrait. "

The word escaped him unawares. The packet Mariana held in her hand washer own portrait, which Markelov had given Nejdanov. 

"A portrait?" she drawled out. "Is it a woman's?"

She handed him the packet, which he took so clumsily that it slipped outof his hand and fell open. 

"Why. .. It's my portrait!" Mariana exclaimed quickly. "I suppose I maylook at my own portrait. " She took it out of Nejdanov's hand. 

"Did you do it?"

"No. .. I didn't. "

"Who then? Markelov?"

"Yes, you've guessed right. "

"Then how did it come to be in your possession?"

"He gave it to me. "

"When?"

Nejdanov told her when and under what circumstances. While he wasspeaking Mariana glanced from him to the portrait. The same thoughtflashed across both their minds. "If HE were in this room, then HEwould have the right to demand. .. " But neither Mariana nor Nejdanov gaveexpression to this thought in words, perhaps because each was consciouswhat was in the other's mind. 

Mariana quietly wrapped the portrait up again in its paper and put it onthe table. 

"What a good man he is!" she murmured. "I wonder where he is now?"

"Why, at home of course. Tomorrow or the day after I must go and seehim about some books and pamphlets. He promised to give me some, butevidently forgot to do so before I left. "

"And do you think, Aliosha, that when he gave you this portrait herenounced everything. .. Absolutely everything?"

"I think so. "

"Do you think you will find him at home?"

"Of course. "

"Ah!" Mariana lowered her eyes and dropped her hands at her sides. "Buthere comes Tatiana with our dinner, " she exclaimed suddenly. "Isn't shea dear!"

Tatiana appeared with the knives and forks, serviettes, plates anddishes. While laying the table she related all the news about thefactory. "The master came from Moscow by rail and started running fromfloor to floor like a madman. Of course he doesn't understand anythingand does it only for show--to set an example so to speak. VassilyFedotitch treats him like a child. The master wanted to make someunpleasantness, but Vassily Fedotitch soon shut him up. 'I'll throwit up this minute, ' he said, so he soon began to sing small. They arehaving dinner now. The master brought someone with him. A Moscow swellwho does nothing but admire everything. He must be very rich, I think, by the way he holds his tongue and shakes his head. And so stout, verystout! A real swell! No wonder there's a saying that 'Moscow lies at thefoot of Russia and everything rolls down to her. '"

"How you notice everything!" Mariana exclaimed. 

"Yes, I do rather, " Tatiana observed. "Well, here is your dinner. Comeand have it and I'll sit and look at you for a little while. "

Mariana and Nejdanov sat down to table, whilst Tatiana sat down on thewindow-sill and rested her cheek in her hand. 

"I watch you. .. " she observed. "And what dear, young, tender creaturesyou are. You're so nice to look at that it quite makes my heart ache. Ah, my dear! You are taking a heavier burden on your shoulders than youcan bear. It's people like you that the tsar's folk are ready to putinto prison. "

"Nothing of the kind. Don't frighten us, " Nejdanov remarked. "You knowthe old saying, 'As you make your bed so you must lie on it. '"

"Yes, I know. But the beds are so narrow nowadays that you can't get outof them!"

"Have you any children?" Mariana asked to change the subject. 

"Yes, I have a boy. He goes to school now. I had a girl too, but she'sgone, the little bird! An accident happened to her. She fell under awheel. If only it had killed her at once! But no, she suffered a longwhile. Since then I've become more tender-hearted. Before I was as wildand hard as a tree!"

"Why, did you not love your Pavel?"

"But that's not the same. Only a girl's feelings. And you--do you loveHIM?"

"Of course I do. "

Very much?

"Ever so much. "

"Really?. .. " Tatiana looked from one to the other, but said nothingmore. 

"I'll tell you what I would like. Could you get me some coarse, strongwool? I want to knit some stockings. .. Plain ones. "

Tatiana promised to have everything done, and clearing the table, wentout of the room with her firm, quiet step. 

"Well, what shall we do now?" Mariana asked, turning to Nejdanov, andwithout, waiting for a reply, continued, "Since our real work does notbegin until tomorrow, let us devote this evening to literature. Wouldyou like to? We can read your poems. I will be a severe critic, Ipromise you. "

It took Nejdanov a long time before he consented, but he gave in at lastand began reading aloud out of his copybook. Mariana sat close to himand gazed into his face as he read. She had been right; she turned outto be a very severe critic. Very few of the verses pleased her. Shepreferred the purely lyrical, short ones, to the didactic, as sheexpressed it. Nejdanov did not read well. He had not the courage toattempt any style, and at the same time wanted to avoid a dry tone. Itturned out neither the one thing nor the other. Mariana interrupted himsuddenly by asking if he knew Dobrolubov's beautiful poem, which begins, "To die for me no terror holds. " She read it to him--also not verywell--in a somewhat childish manner. 

[To die for me no terror holds, Yet one fear presses on my mind, Thatdeath should on me helpless play A satire of the bitter kind. For muchI fear that o'er my corpse The scalding tears of friends shall flow, Andthat, too late, they should with zeal Fresh flowers upon my body throw. That fate sardonic should recall The ones I loved to my cold side, Andmake me lying in the ground, The object of love once denied. That all myaching heart's desires, So vainly sought for from my birth, Should crowdunbidden, smiling kind Above my body's mound of earth. ]

Nejdanov thought that it was too sad and too bitter. He could nothave written a poem like that, he added, as he had no fears of any oneweeping over his grave. .. There would be no tears. 

"There will be if I outlive you, " Mariana observed slowly, and liftingher eyes to the ceiling she asked, in a whisper, as if speaking toherself:

"How did he do the portrait of me? From memory?"

Nejdanov turned to her quickly. 

"Yes, from memory. "

Mariana was surprised at his reply. It seemed to her that she merelythought the question. "It is really wonderful. .. " she continued inthe same tone of voice. "Why, he can't draw at all. What was I talkingabout?" she added aloud. "Oh yes, it was about Dobrolubov's poems. Oneought to write poems like Pushkin's, or even like Dobrolubov's. It isnot poetry exactly, but something nearly as good. "

"And poems like mine one should not write at all. Isn't that so?"Nejdanov asked. 

"Poems like yours please your friends, not because they are good, butbecause you are a good man and they are like you. "

Nejdanov smiled. 

"You have completely buried them and me with them!" Mariana slapped hishand and called him naughty. Soon after she announced that she was tiredand wanted to go to bed. 

"By the way, " she added, shaking back her short thick curls, "do youknow that I have a hundred and thirty roubles? And how much have you?"

"Ninety-eight. "

"Oh, then we are rich. .. For simplified folk. Well, good night, untiltomorrow. "

She went out, but in a minute or two her door opened slightly and heheard her say, "Goodnight!" then more softly another "Goodnight!" andthe key turned in the lock. 

Nejdanov sank on to the sofa and covered his face with his hands. Thenhe got up quickly, went to her door and knocked. 

"What is it?" was heard from within. 

"Not till tomorrow, Mariana. .. Not till tomorrow!"

"Till tomorrow, " she replied softly. 

XXIX

EARLY the next morning Nejdanov again knocked at Mariana's door. 

"It is I, " he replied in answer to her "Who's that?" "Can you come out tome?"

"In a minute. "

She came out and uttered a cry of alarm. At first she did not recognisehim. He had on a long-skirted, shabby, yellowish nankin coat, with smallbuttons and a high waist; his hair was dressed in the Russian fashionwith a parting straight down the middle; he had a blue kerchief roundhis neck, in his hand he held a cap with a broken peak, on his feet apair of dirty leather boots. 

"Heavens!" Mariana exclaimed. "How ugly you look!" and thereupon threwher arms round him and kissed him quickly. "But why did you get yourselfup like this? You look like some sort of shopkeeper, or pedlar, or aretired servant. Why this long coat? Why not simply like a peasant?"

"Why?" Nejdanov began. He certainly did look like some sort offishmonger in that garb, was conscious of it himself, and was annoyedand embarrassed at heart. He felt uncomfortable, and not knowing what todo with his hands, kept patting himself on the breast with the fingersoutspread, as though he were brushing himself. 

"Because as a peasant I should have been recognised at once Pavel says, and that in this costume I look as if I had been born to it . .. Which isnot very flattering to my vanity, by the way. "

"Are you going to begin at once?" Mariana asked eagerly. 

"Yes, I shall try, though in reality--"

"You are lucky!" Mariana interrupted him. 

"This Pavel is a wonderful fellow, " Nejdanov continued. "He can seethrough and through you in a second, and will suddenly screw up his faceas if he knew nothing, and would not interfere with anything for theworld. He works for the cause himself, yet laughs at it the whole time. He brought me the books from Markelov; he knows him and calls him SergaiMihailovitch; and as for Solomin, he would go through fire and water forhim. "

"And so would Tatiana, " Mariana observed. "Why are people so devoted tohim?"

Nejdanov did not reply. 

"What sort of books did Pavel bring you?" Mariana asked. 

"Oh, nothing new. 'The Story of the Four Brothers, ' and then theordinary, well-known ones, which are far better I think. "

Mariana looked around uneasily. 

"I wonder what has become of Tatiana? She promised to come early. "

"Here I am!" Tatiana exclaimed, coming in with a bundle in her hand. Shehad heard Mariana's exclamation from behind the door. 

"There's plenty of time. See what I've brought you!"

Mariana flew towards her. 

"Have you brought it?"

Tatiana patted the bundle. 

"Everything is here, quite ready. You have only to put the things on andgo out to astonish the world. "

"Come along, come along, Tatiana Osipovna, you are a dear--"

Mariana led her off to her own room. 

Left alone, Nejdanov walked up and down the room once or twice with apeculiarly shuffling gait (he imagined that all shopkeepers walked likethat), then he carefully sniffed at this sleeves, the inside of his cap, made a grimace, looked at himself in the little looking-glass hanging inbetween the windows, and shook his head; he certainly did not look veryprepossessing. "So much the better, " he thought. Then he took severalpamphlets, thrust them into his side pocket, and began to practisespeaking like a shopkeeper. "That sounds like it, " he thought, "butafter all there is no need of acting, my get-up is convincing enough. "Just then he recollected a German exile, who had to make his escaperight across Russia with only a poor knowledge of the language. Butthanks to a merchant's cap which he had bought in a provincial town, hewas taken everywhere for a merchant and had successfully made his wayacross the frontier. 

At this moment Solomin entered. 

"I say!" he exclaimed. "Arrayed in all your war paint? Excuse me, mydear fellow, but in that garb one can hardly speak to you respectfully. "

"Please don't. I had long meant to ask you--"

"But it's early as yet. It doesn't matter if you only want to get usedto it, only you must not go out yet. My employer is still here. He's inbed. "

"I'll go out later on, " Nejdanov responded. "I'll explore theneighbourhood a little, until further orders come. "

"Capital! But I tell you what, Alexai. .. I may call you Alexai, may Inot?"

"Certainly, or Lexy if you like, " Nejdanov added with a smile. 

"No; there is no need to overdo things. Listen. Good counsel isbetter than money, as the saying goes. I see that you have pamphlets. Distribute them wherever you like, only not in the factory on anyaccount!"

"Why not?"

"In the first place, because it won't be safe for you; in the second, because I promised the owner not to do that sort of thing here. You seethe place is his after all, and then something has already been done. .. A school and so on. You might do more harm than good. Further thanthat, you may do as you like, I shall not hinder you. But you must notinterfere with my workpeople. "

"Caution is always useful, " Nejdanov remarked with a sarcastic smile. 

Solomin smiled his characteristic broad smile. 

"Yes, my dear Alexai, it's always useful. But what do I see? Where arewe?"

The last words referred to Mariana, who at that moment appeared in thedoorway of her room in a print dress that had been washed a great manytimes, with a yellow kerchief over her shoulders and a red one on herhead. Tatiana stood behind her, smiling good-naturedly. Mariana seemedyounger and brighter in her simple garment and looked far better thanNejdanov in his long-skirted coat. 

"Vassily Fedotitch, don't laugh, please, " Mariana implored, turning asred as a poppy. 

"There's a nice couple!" Tatiana exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Butyou, my dear, don't be angry, you look well enough, but beside my littledove you're nowhere. "

"And, really, she is charming, " Nejdanov thought; "oh, how I love her!"

"Look now, " Tatiana continued, "she insisted on changing rings with me. She has given me a golden ring and taken my silver one. "

"Girls of the people do not wear gold rings, " Mariana observed. 

Tatiana sighed. 

"I'll take good care of it, my dear; don't be afraid. "

"Well, sit down, sit down both of you, " Solomin began; he had beenstanding all the while with his head bent a little to one side, gazingat Mariana. "In olden days, if you remember, people always sat downbefore starting on a journey. And you have both a long and wearisome onebefore you. "

Mariana, still crimson, sat down, then Nejdanov and Solomin, and lastof all Tatiana took her seat on a thick block of wood. Solomin looked ateach of them in turn. 

 "Let us step back a pace, Let us step back a bit, To see with what grace And how nicely we sit, "

he said with a frown. Suddenly he burst out laughing, but sogood-naturedly that no one was in the least offended, on the contrary, they all began to feel merry too. Only Nejdanov rose suddenly. 

"I must go now, " he said; "this is all very nice, but rather like afarce. Don't be uneasy, " he added, turning to Solomin. "I shall notinterfere with your people. I'll try my tongue on the folk around aboutand will tell you all about it when I come back, Mariana, if there isanything to tell. Wish me luck!"

"Why not have a cup of tea first?" Tatiana remarked. 

"No thanks. If I want any I can go into an eating-house or into a publichouse. "

Tatiana shook her head. 

"Goodbye, goodbye. .. Good luck to you!" Nejdanov added, entering uponhis role of small shopkeeper. But before he had reached the door Pavelthrust his head in from the passage under his very nose, and handing hima thin, long staff, cut out all the way down like a screw, he said:

"Take this, Alexai Dmitritch, and lean on it as you walk. And thefarther you hold it away from yourself the better it will look. "

Nejdanov took the staff without a word and went out. Tatiana wanted togo out too, but Mariana stopped her. 

"Wait a minute, Tatiana Osipovna. I want you. "

"I'll be back directly with the samovar. Your friend has gone offwithout tea, he was in such a mighty hurry. But that is no reason whyyou should not have any. Later on things will be clearer. "

Tatiana went out and Solomin also rose. Mariana was standing with herback to him, but when at last she turned towards him, rather surprisedthat he had not said a single word, she saw in his face, in his eyesthat were fixed on her, an expression she had not seen there before; anexpression of inquiry, anxiety, almost of curiosity. She became confusedand blushed again. Solomin, too, was ashamed of what she had read in hisface and began talking louder than was his wont. 

"Well, well, Mariana, and so you have made a beginning. "

"What sort of beginning, Vassily Fedotitch? Do you call this abeginning? Alexai was right. It's as if we were acting a farce. "

Solomin sat down again. 

"But, Mariana. .. What did you picture the beginning to be like? Notstanding behind the barricades waving a flag and shouting, 'Hurrah forthe republic!' Besides, that is not a woman's work. Now, today you willbegin teaching some Lukeria, something good for her, and a difficultmatter it will be, because you won't understand your Lukeria and shewon't understand you, and on top of it she will imagine that what youare teaching is of no earthly use to her. In two or three weeks you willtry your hand on another Lukeria, and meanwhile you will be washing ababy here, teaching another the alphabet, or handing some sick man hismedicine. That will be your beginning. "

"But sisters of mercy do that, Vassily Fedotitch! What is the use ofall this, then?" Mariana pointed to herself and round about with a vaguegesture. "I dreamt of something else. "

"Did you want to sacrifice yourself?"

Mariana's eyes glistened. 

"Yes, yes, yes!"

"And Nejdanov?"

Mariana shrugged her shoulders. 

"What of Nejdanov? We shall go together. .. Or I will go alone. "

Solomin looked at her intently. 

"Do you know, Mariana. .. Excuse the coarse expression. .. But, to mymind, combing the scurfy head of a gutter child is a sacrifice; a greatsacrifice of which not many people are capable. "

"I would not shirk that, Vassily Fedotitch. "

"I know you would not. You are capable of doing that and will do it, until something else turns up. 

"But for that sort of thing I must learn of Tatiana!"

"You could not do better. You will be washing pots and pluckingchickens. .. And, who knows, maybe you will save your country in thatway!"

"You are laughing at me, Vassily Fedotitch. "

Solomin shook his head slowly. 

"My dear Mariana, believe me, I am not laughing at you. What I said wasthe simple truth. You are already, all you Russian women, more capableand higher than we men. "

Mariana raised her eyes. 

"I would like to live up to your idea of us, Solomin. .. And then Ishould be ready to die. "

Solomin stood up. 

"No, it is better to live! That's the main thing. By the way, would youlike to know what is happening at the Sipiagins? Won't they do anything?You have only to drop Pavel a hint and he will find out everything in atwinkling. "

Mariana was surprised. 

"What a wonderful person he is!"

"Yes, he certainly is wonderful. And should you want to marry Alexai, he will arrange that too with Zosim, the priest. You remember I told youabout him. But perhaps it is not necessary as yet, eh?"

"No, not yet. "

"Very well. " Solomin went up to the door dividing the two rooms, Mariana's and Nejdanov's, and examined the lock. 

"What are you doing?" Mariana asked. "Does it lock all right?"

"Yes, " Mariana whispered. 

Solomin turned to her. She did not raise her eyes. 

"Then there is no need to bother about the Sipiagins, " he continuedgaily, "is there?"

Solomin was about to go out. 

"Vassily Fedotitch. .. "

"Yes. .. "

"Why is it you are so talkative with me when you are usually so silent?You can't imagine what pleasure it gives me. "

"Why?" Solomin took both her soft little hands in his big hard ones. "Why, did you ask? Well, I suppose it must be because I love you somuch. Good-bye. "

He went out. Mariana stood pensive looking after him. In a little whileshe went to find Tatiana who had not yet brought the samovar. She hadtea with her, washed some pots, plucked a chicken, and even combed outsome boy's tangled head of hair. 

Before dinner she returned to her own rooms and soon afterwards Nejdanovarrived. 

He came in tired and covered with dust and dropped on to the sofa. Sheimmediately sat down beside him. 

"Well, tell me what happened. "

"You remember the two lines, " he responded in a weary voice:

"It would have been so funny Were it not so sad. "

"Do you remember?"

"Of course I do. "

"Well, these lines apply admirably to my first expedition, exceptingthat it was more funny than sad. I've come to the conclusion that thereis nothing easier than to act a part. No one dreamed of suspecting me. There was one thing, however, that I had not thought of. You must beprepared with some sort of yarn beforehand, or else when any one asksyou where you've come from and why you've come, you don't know what tosay. But, however, even that is not so important. You've only to stand adrink and lie as much as you like. "

"And you? Did you lie?"

"Of course I did, as much as I could. And then I've discovered thatabsolutely everyone you come across is discontented, only no one caresto find out the remedy for this discontent. I made a very poor show atpropaganda, only succeeded in leaving a couple of pamphlets in a roomand shoving a third into a cart. What may come of them the Lord onlyknows! I ran across four men whom I offered some pamphlets. The firstasked if it was a religious book and refused to take it; the secondcould not read, but took it home to his children for the sake of thepicture on the cover; the third seemed hopeful at first, but ended byabusing me soundly and also not taking it; the fourth took a littlebook, thanked me very much, but I doubt if he understood a single word Isaid to him. Besides that, a dog bit my leg, a peasant woman threatenedme with a poker from the door of her hut, shouting, 'Ugh! you pig! YouMoscow rascals! There's no end to you!' and then a soldier shouted afterme, 'Hi, there! We'll make mince-meat of you!' and he got drunk at myexpense!"

"Well, and what else?

"What else? I've got a blister on my foot; one of my boots is horriblylarge. And now I'm as hungry as a wolf and my head is splitting from thevodka. "

"Why, did you drink much?"

"No, only a little to set the example, but I've been in fivepublic-houses. I can't endure this beastliness, vodka. Goodness knowswhy our people drink it. If one must drink this stuff in order to becomesimplified, then I had rather be excused!"

"And so no one suspected you?"

"No one, with the exception, perhaps, of a bar-man, a stout individualwith pale eyes, who did look at me somewhat suspiciously. I overheardhim saying to his wife, 'Keep an eye on that carroty-haired one withthe squint. ' (I was not aware until that moment that I had a squint. )'There's something wrong about him. See how he's sticking over hisvodka. ' What he meant by 'sticking' exactly, I didn't understand, but itcould hardly have been to my credit. It reminded me of the mauvais tonin Gogol's "Revisor", do you remember? Perhaps because I tried to pourmy vodka under the table. Oh dear! It is difficult for an aestheticcreature like me to come in contact with real life. "

"Never mind. Better luck next time, " Mariana said consolingly. "But I amglad you see the humorous side of this, your first attempt. You were notreally bored, were you?"

"No, it was rather amusing. But I know that I shall think it all overnow and it will make me miserable. "

"But I won't let you think about it! I will tell you everything I did. Dinner will be here in a minute. By the way, I must tell you thatI washed the saucepan Tatiana cooked the soup in. .. I'll tell youeverything, every little detail. "

And so she did. Nejdanov listened and could not take his eyes off her. She stopped several times to ask why he looked at her so intently, buthe was silent. 

After dinner she offered to read Spielhagen aloud to him, but hadscarcely got through one page when he got up suddenly and fell at herfeet. She stood up; he flung both his arms round her knees and beganuttering passionate, disconnected, and despairing words. He wanted todie, he knew he would soon die. .. She did not stir, did not resist. She calmly submitted to his passionate embraces, and calmly, evenaffectionately, glanced down upon him. She laid both her hands on hishead, feverishly pressed to the fold of her dress, but her calmness hada more powerful effect on him than if she had repulsed him. He got upmurmuring: "Forgive me, Mariana, for today and for yesterday. Tell meagain that you are prepared to wait until I am worthy of your love, andforgive me. "

"I gave you my word. I never change. "

"Thank you, dear. Goodbye. "

Nejdanov went out and Mariana locked the door of her room. 

XXX

A FORTNIGHT later, in the same room, Nejdanov sat bending over histhree-legged table, writing to his friend Silin by the dim light of atallow candle. (It was long past midnight. Muddy garments lay scatteredon the sofa, on the floor, just where they had been thrown off. A finedrizzly rain pattered against the window-panes and a strong, warm windmoaned about the roof of the house. )

MY DEAR VLADIMIR, --I am writing to you without giving my address andwill send this letter by a messenger to a distant posting-station as mybeing here is a secret, and to disclose it might mean the ruin not ofmyself alone. It is enough for you to know that for the last two weeksI have been living in a large factory together with Mariana. We ran awayfrom the Sipiagins on the day on which I last wrote to you. A friend hasgiven us shelter here. For convenience sake I will call him Vassily. Heis the chief here and an excellent man. Our stay is only of a temporarynature; we will move on when the time for action comes. But, however, judging by events so far, the time is hardly likely ever to come!Vladimir, I am horribly miserable. I must tell you before everythingthat although Mariana and I ran away together, we have so far beenliving like brother and sister. She loves me and told me she would bemine if I feel I have the right to ask it of her. 

Vladimir, I do not feel that I have the right! She trusts me, believesin my honour--I cannot deceive her. I know that I never loved nor willever love any one more than her (of that I am convinced), but for allthat, how can I unite her fate forever with mine? A living being toa corpse? Well, if not a complete corpse, at any rate, a half-deadcreature. Where would one's conscience be? I can hear you say that ifpassion was strong enough the conscience would be silent. But that isjust the point; I am a corpse, an honest, well-meaning corpse ifyou like, but a corpse nevertheless. Please do not say that I alwaysexaggerate. Everything I have told you is absolutely true. Mariana isvery reserved and is at present wrapped up in her activities in whichshe believes, and I?

Well, enough of love and personal happiness and all that. It is nowa fortnight since I have been going among "the people, " and really itwould be impossible to imagine anything more stupid than they are. Ofcourse the fault lies probably more in me than in the work itself. Iam not a fanatic. I am not one of those who regenerate themselves bycontact with the people and do not lay them on my aching bosom like aflannel bandage--I want to influence them. But how? How can it be done?When I am among them I find myself listening all the time, taking thingsin, but when it comes to saying anything--I am at a loss for a word! Ifeel that I am no good, a bad actor in a part that does not suit him. Conscientiousness or scepticism are absolutely of no use, nor is apitiful sort of humour directed against oneself. It is worse thanuseless! I find it disgusting to look at the filthy rags I carry abouton me, the masquerade as Vassily calls it! They say you must firstlearn the language of the people, their habits and customs, but rubbish, rubbish, rubbish, I say! You have only to BELIEVE in what you sayand say what you like! I once happened to hear a sectarian prophetdelivering a sermon. Goodness only knows what arrant nonsense he talked, a sort of gorgeous mix-up of ecclesiastical learning, interspersed withpeasant expressions, not even in decent Russian, but in some outlandishdialect, but he took one by storm with his enthusiasm--went straight tothe heart. There he stood with flashing eyes, the voice deep and firm, with clenched fist--as though he were made of iron! No one understoodwhat he was saying, but everyone bowed down before him and followedhim. But when I begin to speak, I seem like a culprit begging forforgiveness. I ought to join the sectarians, although their wisdom isnot great. .. But they have faith, faith!

Mariana too has faith. She works from morning until night withTatiana--a peasant woman here, as good as can be and not by any meansstupid; she says, by the way, that we want to become simplified andcalls us simple souls. Mariana is about working with this woman frommorning until night, scarcely sitting down for a moment, just like aregular ant! She is delighted that her hands are turning red and rough, and in the midst of these humble occupations is looking forward to thescaffold! She has even attempted to discard shoes; went out somewherebarefoot and came back barefoot. I heard her washing her feet for a longtime afterwards and then saw her come out, treading cautiously; theywere evidently sore, poor thing, but her face was radiant with smilesas though she had found a treasure or been illuminated by the sun. Yes, Mariana is a brick! But when I try to talk to her of my feelings, a certain shame comes over me somehow, as though I were violatingsomething that was not my own, and then that glance. .. Oh, thatawful devoted, irresistible glance! "Take me, " it seems to say, "BUTREMEMBER. .. . " Enough of this! Is there not something higher and betterin this world? In other words, put on your filthy coat and go among thepeople. .. Oh, yes, I am just going. 

How I loathe this irritability, sensitiveness, impressionable-ness, fastidiousness, inherited from my aristocratic father! What right hadhe to bring me into this world, endowed with qualities quite unsuitedto the sphere in which I must live? To create a bird and throw it in thewater? An aesthetic amidst filth! A democrat, a lover of the people, yetthe very smell of their filthy vodka makes me feel sick!

But it's too bad blaming my father. He was not responsible for mybecoming a democrat. 

"Yes, Vladimir, I am in a bad plight. Grey, depressing thoughts arecontinually haunting me. Can it be, you will be asking me, that I havenot met with anything consoling, any good living personality, howeverignorant he might not be? How shall I tell you? I have run acrosssomeone--a decent clever chap, but unfortunately, however hard I may tryto get nearer him, he has no need of either me or my pamphlets--that isthe root of the matter! Pavel, a factoryhand here (he is Vassily's righthand, a clever fellow with his head screwed on the right way, a future"head, " I think I wrote to you about him), well this Pavel has a friend, a peasant called Elizar, also a smart chap, as free and courageous asone would wish, but as soon as we get together there seems a dead wallbetween us! His face spells one big "No!" Then there was another man Iran across--he was a rather quarrelsome type by the way. "Don't you tryto get around me, sir, " he said. "What I want to know is would you giveup your land now, or not?" "But I'm not a gentleman, " I remonstrated. "Bless you!" he exclaimed, "you a common man and no more sense than that!Leave me alone, please!

Another thing I've noticed is that if anyone listens to you readilyand takes your pamphlets at once, he is sure to be of an undesirable, brainless sort. Or you may chance upon some frightfully talkativeindividual who can do nothing but keep on repeating some favouriteexpression. One such nearly drove me mad; everything with him was"production. " No matter what you said to him he came out with his"production, " damn him! Just one more remark. 

Do you remember some time ago there used to be a great deal of talkabout "superfluous" people--Hamlets? Such "superfluous people" are nowto be met with among the peasants! They have their own characteristicsof course and are for the most part inclined to consumption. They areinteresting types and come to us readily, but as far as the cause isconcerned they are ineffective, like all other Hamlets. Well, what canone do? Start a secret printing press? There are pamphlets enough as itis, some that say, "Cross yourself and take up the hatchet, " and othersthat say simply, "Take up the hatchet" without the crossing. Or shouldone write novels of peasant life with plenty of padding? They wouldn'tget published, you know. Perhaps it might be better to take up thehatchet after all? But against whom, with whom, and what for? So thatour state soldier may shoot us down with the state rifle? It would onlybe a complicated form of suicide! It would be better to make an end ofyourself--you would at any rate know when and how, and choose the spotto aim at. 

I am beginning to think that if some war were to break out, somepeople's war--I would go and take part in it, not so as to free others(free others while one's own are groaning under the yoke!!), but to makean end of myself. 

Our friend Vassily, who gave us shelter here, is a lucky man. He belongsto our camp, but is so calm and quiet. He doesn't want to hurry overthings. I should have quarrelled with another, but I can't with him. Thesecret lies not in his convictions, but in the man himself. Vassily hasa character that you can't kindle, but he's all right nevertheless. Heis with us a good deal, with Mariana. What surprises me is that althoughI love her and she loves me (I see you smiling at this, but the factremains!) we have nothing to talk about, while she is constantlydiscussing and arguing with him and listening too. I am not jealous ofhim; he is trying to find a place for her somewhere, at any rate, shekeeps on asking him to do so, but it makes me feel bitter to look atthem both. And would you believe it--I have only to drop a hint aboutmarrying and she would agree at once and the priest Zosim would put inan appearance, "Isaiah, rejoice!" and the rest of it. But this would notmake it any easier for me and NOTHING WOULD BE CHANGED BY IT. .. Whateveryou do, there is no way out of it! Life has cut me short, my dearVladimir, as our little drunken tailor used to say, you remember, whenhe used to complain about his wife. 

I have a feeling that it can't go on somehow, that something ispreparing. 

Have I not again and again said that the time has come for action? Well, so here we are in the thick of it. 

I can't remember if I told you anything about another friend of mine--arelative of the Sipiagins. He will get himself into such a mess that itwon't be easy for him to get out of it. 

I quite meant finishing this letter and am still going on. It seems tome that nothing matters and yet I scribble verses. I don't read them toMariana and she is not very anxious to hear them, but you have sometimespraised my poor attempts and most of all you'll keep them to yourself. I have been struck by a common phenomenon in Russia. .. But, however, letthe verses speak for themselves--

SLEEP

 After long absence I return to my native land, Finding no striking change there. The same dead, senseless stagnation; crumbling houses, crumbling walls, And the same filth, dirt, poverty, and misery. Unchanged the servile glance, now insolent, now dejected. Free have our people become, and the free arm Hangs as before like a whip unused. All, all as before. In one thing only may we equal Europe, Asia, and the World! Never before has such a fearful sleep oppressed our land. 

 All are asleep, on all sides are they; Through town and country, in carts and in sledges, By day or night, sitting or standing, The merchant and the official, and the sentinel at his post In biting snow and burning heat--all sleep. The judged ones doze, and the judge snores, And peasants plough and reap like dead men, Father, mother, children; all are asleep. He who beats, and he who is beaten. Alone the tavern of the tsar ne'er closes a relentless eye. So, grasping tight in hand the bottle, His brow at the Pole and his heel in the Caucasus, Holy Russia, our fatherland, lies in eternal sleep. 

I am sorry, Vladimir. I never meant to write you such a melancholyletter without a few cheering words at the end. (You will no doubttumble across some defects in the lines!) When shall I write to youagain? Shall I ever write? But whatever happens to me I am sure you willnever forget, Your devoted friend, A. N. 

P. S. --Our people are asleep. .. But I have a feeling that if anythingdoes wake them, it will not be what we think. 

After writing the last line, Nejdanov flung down the pen. "Well, nowyou must try and sleep and forget all this nonsense, scribbler!" heexclaimed, and lay down on the bed. But it was long before he fellasleep. 

The next morning Mariana woke him passing through his room on her way toTatiana. He had scarcely dressed when she came back. She seemed excited, her face expressing delight and anxiety at the same time. 

"Do you know, Aliosha, they say that in the province of T. , quite nearhere, it has already begun!"

"What? What has begun? Who said so?"

"Pavel. They say the peasants are rising, refusing to pay taxes, collecting in mobs. "

"Have you heard that yourself?"

"Tatiana told me. But here is Pavel himself. You had better ask him. "

Pavel came in and confirmed what Mariana had said. 

"There is certainly some disturbance in T. , " he began, shaking his beardand screwing up his bright black eyes. "Sergai Mihailovitch must havehad a hand in it. He hasn't been home for five days. "

Nejdanov took his cap. 

"Where are you off to?" Mariana asked. 

"Why there of course, " he replied, not raising his eyes and frowning, "Iam going to T. "

"Then I will come with you. You'll take me, won't you? Just let me get ashawl. "

"It's not a woman's work, " Nejdanov said irritably with his eyes stillfixed on the floor. 

"No, no! You do well to go, or Markelov would think you a coward . .. ButI'm coming with you. "

"I am not a coward, " Nejdanov observed gloomily. 

"I meant to say that he would have thought us both cowards. I am comingwith you. "

Mariana went into her own room to get a shawl, while Pavel gave aninward ha, ha, and quickly vanished. He ran to warn Solomin. 

Mariana had not yet appeared, when Solomin came into Nejdanov's room. The latter was standing with his face to the window, his foreheadresting on the palm of his hand and his elbow on the window-pane. Solomin touched him on the shoulder. He turned around quickly;dishevelled and unwashed, Nejdanov had a strange wild look. Solomin, too, had changed during the last days. His face was yellow and drawn andhis upper front teeth showed slightly--he, too, seemed agitated as faras it was possible for his well-balanced temperament to be so. 

"Markelov could not control himself after all, " he began. "This may turnout badly both for him and for others. "

"I want to go and see what's going on there, " Nejdanov observed. 

"And I too, " Mariana added as she appeared in the doorway. 

Solomin turned to her quickly. 

"I would not advise you to go, Mariana. You may give yourself away--andus, without meaning to, and without the slightest necessity. LetNejdanov go and see how the land lies, if he wants to--and the soonerhe's back the better! But why should you go?"

"I don't want to be parted from him. "

"You will be in his way. "

Mariana looked at Nejdanov. He was standing motionless with a set sullenexpression on his face. 

"But supposing there should be danger?" she asked. 

Solomin smiled. 

"Don't be afraid. .. When there's danger I will let you go. "

Mariana took off her shawl without a word and sat down. Solomin thenturned to Nejdanov. 

"It would be a good thing for you to look about a little, Alexai. I daresay they exaggerate. Only do be careful. But, however, you will notbe going alone. Come back as quickly as you can. Will you promise?Nejdanov? Will you promise?"

"Yes. "

"For certain?

"I suppose so, since everybody here obeys you, including Mariana. "

Nejdanov went out without saying goodbye. Pavel appeared from somewhereout of the darkness and ran down the stairs before him with a greatclatter of his hob-nailed boots. Was HE then to accompany Nejdanov?

Solomin sat down beside Mariana. 

"You heard Nejdanov's last word?"

"Yes. He is annoyed that I listen to you more than to him. But it'squite true. I love him and listen to you. He is dear to me. .. And youare near to me. "

Solomin stroked her hand gently. 

"This is a very unpleasant business, " he observed at last. "If Markelovis mixed up in it then he's a lost man. "

Mariana shuddered. 

"Lost?"

"Yes. He doesn't do things by halves--and won't hide things for the sakeof others. "

"Lost!" Mariana whispered again as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Oh, Vassily Fedotitch! I feel so sorry for him. But what makes youthink that he won't succeed? Why must he inevitably be lost?"

"Because in such enterprises the first always perish even if they comeoff victorious. And in this thing not only the first and second, but thetenth and twentieth will perish--"

"Then we shall never live to see it?"

"What you have in your mind--never. We shall never see it with our eyes;with these living eyes of ours. But with our spiritual . .. But thatis another matter. We may see it in that way now; there is nothing tohinder us. "

"Then why do you--"

"What?"

"Why do you follow this road?"

"Because there is no other. I mean that my aims are the same asMarkelov's--but our paths are different. "

"Poor Sergai Mihailovitch!" Mariana exclaimed sadly. Solomin passed hishand cautiously over hers. 

"There, there, we know nothing as yet. We'll see what news Pavel bringsback. In our calling one must be brave. The English have a proverb'Never say die. ' A very good proverb, I think, much better than ourRussian, 'When trouble knocks, open the gates wide!' We mustn't meettrouble half way. "

Solomin stood up. 

"And the place you were going to find me?" Mariana asked suddenly. Thetears were still shining on her cheeks, but there was no sadness in hereyes. Solomin sat down again. 

"Are you in such a great hurry to get away from here?

"Oh, no! Only I wanted to do something useful. "

"You are useful here, Mariana. Don't leave us yet, wait a little longer. What is it?" Solomin asked of Tatiana who was just coming in. 

"Some sort of female is asking for Alexai Dmitritch, " Tatiana replied, laughing and gesticulating with her hands. 

"I said that there was no such person living here, that we did not knowhim at all, when she--"

"Who is she?"

"Why the female of course. She wrote her name on this piece of paperand asked me to bring it here and let her in, saying that if AlexaiDmitritch was really not at home, she could wait for him. "

On the paper was written in large letters "Mashurina. "

"Show her in, " Solomin said. "You don't mind my asking her in here, Mariana, do you? She is also one of us. "

"Not at all. "

A few moments later Mashurina appeared in the doorway, in the same dressin which we saw her at the beginning of the first chapter. 

XXXI

"Is Nejdanov not at home?" she asked, then catching sight of Solomin, came up to him and extended her hand. 

"How do you do, Solomin?" She threw a side-glance at Mariana. 

"He will be back directly, " Solomin said. "But tell me how you came toknow--"

"Markelov told me. Besides several people in the town already know thathe's here. "

"Really?"

"Yes. Somebody must have let it out. Besides Nejdanov has beenrecognised. "

"For all the dressing up!" Solomin muttered to himself. "Allow me tointroduce you, " he said aloud, "Miss Sinitska, Miss Mashurina! Won't yousit down?"

Mashurina nodded her head slightly and sat down. "I have a letter forNejdanov and a message for you, Solomin. "

"What message? And from whom?"

"From someone who is well known to you. .. Well, is everything readyhere?"

"Nothing whatever. "

Mashurina opened her tiny eyes as wide as she could. 

"Nothing?

"Nothing. "

"Absolutely nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing. "

"Is that what I am to say?"

"Exactly. "

Mashurina became thoughtful and pulled a cigarette out of her pocket. 

"Can I have a light?"

"Here is a match. "

Mashurina lighted her cigarette. 

"They expected something different, " she began, "Altogether differentfrom what you have here. However, that is your affair. I am not going tostay long. I only want to see Nejdanov and give him the letter. "

"Where are you going to?

"A long way from here. " (She was going to Geneva, but did not wantSolomin to know as she did not quite trust him, and besides a strangerwas present. Mashurina, who scarcely knew a word of German, was beingsent to Geneva to hand over to a person absolutely unknown to her apiece of cardboard with a vine-branch sketched on it and two hundred andseventy-nine roubles. )

"And where is Ostrodumov? Is he with you?"

"No, but he's quite near. Got stuck on the way. He'll be here when he'swanted. Pemien can look after himself. There is no need to worry abouthim. "

"How did you get here?"

"In a cart of course. How else could I have come? Give me another match, please. "

Solomin gave her a light. 

"Vassily Fedotitch!" A voice called out suddenly from the other side ofthe door. "Can you come out?"

"Who is it? What do you want?"

"Do come, please, " the voice repeated insistently. "Some new workmenhave come. They're trying to explain something, and Pavel Egoritch isnot there. "

Solomin excused himself and went out. Mashurina fixed her gaze onMariana and stared at her for so long that the latter began to feeluncomfortable. 

"Excuse me, " Mashurina exclaimed suddenly in her hard abrupt voice, "Iam a plain woman and don't know how to put these things. Don't be angrywith me. You need not tell me if you don't wish to. Are you the girl whoran away from the Sipiagins?"

"Yes, " Mariana replied, a little surprised. 

"With Nejdanov?"

"Yes. "

"Please give me your hand. .. And forgive me. You must be good since heloves you. "

Mariana pressed Mashurina's hand. 

"Have you known him long?"

"I knew him in St. Petersburg. That was what made me talk to you. SergaiMihailovitch has also told me--"

"Oh Markelov! Is it long since you've seen him?

"No, not long. But he's gone away now. "

"Where to?"

"Where he was ordered. "

Mariana sighed. 

"Oh, Miss Mashurina, I fear for him. "

"In the first place, I'm not miss. You ought to cast off such manners. In the second, you say. .. 'I fear, ' and that you must also cast aside. If you do not fear for yourself, you will leave off fearing for others. You must not think of yourself, nor fear for yourself. I dare say it'seasy for me to talk like that. I am ugly, while you are beautiful. Itmust be so much harder for you. " (Mariana looked down and turned away. )"Sergai Mihailovitch told me. .. He knew I had a letter for Nejdanov. .. 'Don't go to the factory, ' he said, 'don't take the letter. It willupset everything there. Leave them alone! They are both happy. .. Don'tinterfere with them!' I should be glad not to interfere, but what shallI do about the letter?"

"Give it to him by all means, " Mariana put in. "How awfully goodSergai Mihailovitch is! Will they kill him, Mashurina. .. Or send him toSiberia?"

"Well, what then? Don't people come back from Siberia? And as for losingone's life; it is not all like honey to everybody. To some it is sweet, to others bitter. His life has not been over-sweet. "

Mashurina gave Mariana a fixed searching look. 

"How beautiful you are!" she exclaimed, "just like a bird! I don't thinkAlexai is coming. .. I'll give you the letter. It's no use waiting anylonger. 

"I will give it him, you may be sure. "

Mashurina rested her cheek in her hand and for a long, long time did notspeak. 

"Tell me, " she began, "forgive me for asking. .. Do you love him?"

"Yes. "

Mashurina shook her heavy head. 

"There is no need to ask if he loves you. However, I had better begoing, otherwise I shall be late. Tell him that I was here. .. Give himmy kind regards. Tell him Mashurina was here. You won't forget my name, will you? Mashurina. And the letter. .. But say, where have I put it?"

Mashurina stood up, turned round as though she were rummaging in herpockets for the letter, and quickly raising a small piece of foldedpaper to her lips, swallowed it. "Oh, dear me! What have I done withit? Have I lost it? I must have dropped it. Dear me! Supposing some oneshould find it! I can't find it anywhere. It's turned out exactly asSergai Mihailovitch wanted after all!"

"Look again, " Mariana whispered. Mashurina waved her hand. 

"It's no good. I've lost it. "

Mariana came up to her. 

"Well, then, kiss me. "

Mashurina suddenly put her arms about Mariana and pressed her to herbosom with more than a woman's strength. 

"I would not have done this for anybody, " she said, a lump rising in herthroat, "against my conscience. .. The first time! Tell him to be morecareful. .. And you too. Be cautious. It will soon be very dangerousfor everybody here, very dangerous. You had better both go away, whilethere's still time. .. Goodbye!" she added loudly with some severity. "Just one more thing. .. Tell him. .. No, it's not necessary. It'snothing. "

Mashurina went out, banging the door behind her, while Mariana stoodperplexed in the middle of the room. 

"What does it all mean?" she exclaimed at last. "This woman loves himmore than I do! What did she want to convey by her hints? And why didSolomin disappear so suddenly, and why didn't he come back again?"

She began pacing up and down the room. A curious sensation of fear, annoyance, and amazement took possession of her. Why did she not go withNejdanov? Solomin had persuaded her not to. .. But where is Solomin? Andwhat is going on around here? Of course Mashurina did not give her theletter because of her love for Nejdanov. But how could she decide todisregard orders? Did she want to appear magnanimous? What right hadshe? And why was she, Mariana, so touched by her act? An unattractivewoman interests herself in a young man. .. What is there extraordinaryabout it? And why should Mashurina assume that Mariana's attachment toNejdanov is stronger than the feelings of duty? And did Mariana ask forsuch a sacrifice? And what could the letter have contained? A call forspeedy action? Well, and what then?

And Markelov? He is in danger. .. And what are we doing? Markelov sparesus both, gives us the opportunity of being happy, does not part us. .. What makes him do it? Is it also magnaminity. .. Or contempt?

And did we run away from that hateful house merely to live like turtledoves?

Thus Mariana pondered, while the feeling of agitation and annoyance grewstronger and stronger within her. Her pride was hurt. Why had everyoneforsaken her? EVERYONE. This stout woman had called her a bird, abeauty. .. Why not quite plainly, a doll? And why did Nejdanov not goalone, but with Pavel? It's just as if he needed someone to look afterhim! And what are really Solomin's convictions? It's quite clear thathe's not a revolutionist! And could any one really think that he doesnot treat the whole thing seriously?

These were the thoughts that whirled round, chasing one another andbecoming entangled in Mariana's feverish brain. Pressing her lipsclosely together and folding her arms like a man, she sat down by thewindow at last and remained immovable, straight up in her chair, allalertness and intensity, ready to spring up at any moment. She had nodesire to go to Tatiana and work; she wanted to wait alone. And she satwaiting obstinately, almost angrily. From time to time her mood seemedstrange and incomprehensible even to herself. .. Never mind. "Am Ijealous?" flashed across her mind, but remembering poor Mashurina'sfigure she shrugged her shoulders and dismissed the idea. 

Mariana had been waiting for a long time when suddenly she heard thesound of two persons' footsteps coming up the stairs. She fixed hereyes on the door. .. The steps drew nearer. The door opened and Nejdanov, supported under the arm by Pavel, appeared in the doorway. He was deadlypale, without a cap, his dishevelled hair hung in wet tufts over hisforehead, he stared vacantly straight in front of him. Pavel helped himacross the room (Nejdanov's legs were weak and shaky) and made him sitdown on the couch. 

Mariana sprang up from her seat. 

"What is the meaning of this? What's the matter with him? Is he ill?"

As he settled Nejdanov, Pavel answered her with a smile, looking at herover his shoulder. 

"You needn't worry. He'll soon be all right. It's only because he's notused to it. "

"What's the matter?" Mariana persisted. 

"He's only a little tipsy. Been drinking on an empty stomach; that'sall. "

Mariana bent over Nejdanov. He was half lying on the couch, his headsunk on his breast, his eyes closed. He smelled of vodka; he was quitedrunk. 

"Alexai!" escaped her lips. 

He raised his heavy eyelids with difficulty, and tried to smile. 

"Well, Mariana!" he stammered out, "you've always talked ofsim-plif-ication. .. So here I am quite simplified. Because the peopleare always drunk. .. And so. .. "

He ceased, then muttered something indistinctly to himself, closed hiseyes, and fell asleep. Pavel stretched him carefully on the couch. 

"Don't worry, Mariana Vikentievna, " he repeated. "He'll sleep an hour ortwo and wake up as fresh as can be. "

Mariana wanted to ask how this had happened, but her questions wouldhave detained Pavel and she wanted to be alone. .. She did not wish Pavelto see him in this disgusting state before her. She walked away to thewindow while Pavel, who instantly understood her, carefully coveredNejdanov's legs with the skirts of his coat, put a pillow under hishead, and observing once again, "It's nothing, " went out on tiptoe. 

Mariana looked round. Nejdanov's head was buried in the pillow and onhis pale face there was an expression of fixed intensity as on the faceof one dangerously ill. 

"I wonder how it happened?" she thought. 

XXXII

IT happened like this. 

Sitting down beside Pavel in the cart, Nejdanov fell into a state ofgreat excitement. As soon as they rolled out of the courtyard onto thehigh road leading to T. He began shouting out the most absurd things tothe peasants he met on the way. "Why are you asleep? Rouse yourself! Thetime has come! Down with the taxes! Down with the landlords!"

Some of the peasants stared at him in amazement, others passed onwithout taking any notice of him, thinking that he was drunk; one evensaid when he got home that he had met a Frenchman on the way who wasjabbering away at something he did not understand. Nejdanov had commonsense enough to know that what he was doing was unutterably stupid andabsurd had he not got himself up to such a pitch of excitement that hewas no longer able to discriminate between sense and nonsense. Paveltried to quiet him, saying that it was impossible to go on like that;that they were quite near a large village, the first on the borders ofT. , and that there they could look around. .. . But Nejdanov would notcalm down, and at the same time his face bore a sad, almost despairing, expression. Their horse was an energetic, round little thing, with aclipped mane on its scraggy neck. It tugged at the reins, and its stronglittle legs flew as fast as they could, just as if it were consciousof bearing important people to the scene of action. Just before theyreached the village, Nejdanov saw a group of about eight peasantsstanding by the side of the road at the closed doors of a granary. Heinstantly jumped out of the cart, rushed up to them, and began shoutingat them, thumping his fists and gesticulating for about five minutes. The words "For Freedom! March on! Put the shoulder to the wheel!" couldbe distinguished from among the rest of his confused words. 

The peasants, who had met before the granary for the purpose ofdiscussing how to fill it once more--if only to show that theywere doing something (it was the communal granary and consequentlyempty)--fixed their eyes on Nejdanov and seemed to listen to him withthe greatest attention, but they had evidently not understood a word hehad said, for no sooner was his back turned, shouting for the last time"Freedom!" as he rushed away, when one of them, the most sagacious ofthe lot, shook his head saying, "What a severe one!" "He must be anofficer, " another remarked, to which the wise one said: "We know allabout that--he doesn't talk for nothing. We'll have to pay the piper. "

"Heavens! what nonsense this all is!" Nejdanov thought to himself, as hesat down next to Pavel in the cart. "But then none of us know how to getat the people--perhaps this is the right way after all! Who knows? Goon! Does your heart ache? Let it!"

They found themselves in the main street of the village in the middleof which a number of people were gathered together before a tavern. Nejdanov, paying no heed to Pavel, who was trying to hold him back, leapt down from the cart with a cry of "Brothers!" The crowd made wayfor him and he again began preaching, looking neither to right nor left, as if furious and weeping at the same time. But things turned out quitedifferently than with his former attempt at the barn. An enormous fellowwith a clean-shaven, vicious face, in a short greasy coat, high boots, and a sheepskin cap, came up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. 

"All right! my fine fellow!" he bawled out in a wheezy voice; "but waita bit! good deeds must be rewarded. Come along in here. It'll be muchbetter talking in there. " He pulled Nejdanov into the tavern, the othersstreamed in after them. "Michaitch!" the fellow shouted, "twopennyworth!My favourite drink! I want to treat a friend. Who he is, what's hisfamily, and where he's from, only the devil knows! Drink!" he said, turning to Nejdanov and handing him a heavy, full glass, wet all overon the outside, as though perspiring, "drink, if you really have anyfeeling for us!" "Drink!" came a chorus of voices. Nejdanov, who seemedas if in a fever, seized the glass and with a cry of "I drink to you, children!" drank it off at a gulp. Ugh! He drank it off with the samedesperate heroism with which he would have flung himself in storminga battery or on a line of bayonets. But what was happening to him?Something seemed to have struck his spine, his legs, burned his throat, his chest, his stomach, made the tears come into his eyes. A shudder ofdisgust passed all over him. He began shouting at the top of his voiceto drown the throbbing in his head. The dark tavern room suddenly becamehot and thick and suffocating--and people, people everywhere! Nejdanovbegan talking, talking incessantly, shouting furiously, in exasperation, shaking broad rough hands, kissing prickly beards. . .. The enormousfellow in the greasy coat kissed him too, nearly breaking his ribs. This fellow turned out to be a perfect fiend. "I'll wring the neck, " heshouted, "I'll wring the neck of anyone who dares to offend our brother!And what's more, I'll make mincemeat of him too. .. I'll make him cryout! That's nothing to me. I was a butcher and know how to do suchjobs!" At this he held up an enormous fist covered with freckles. Someone again shouted, "Drink!" and Nejdanov again swallowed a glassof the filthy poison. But this second time was truly awful! Blunt hooksseemed to be tearing him to pieces inside. His head was in a whirl, green circles swam before his eyes. A hubbub arose. .. Oh horror! a thirdglass. Was it possible he emptied that too? He seemed to be surroundedby purple noses, dusty heads of hair, tanned necks covered with netsof wrinkles. Rough hands seized him. "Go on!" they bawled out in angryvoices, "talk away! The day before yesterday another stranger talkedlike that. Go on. " The earth seemed reeling under Nejdanov's feet, hisvoice sounded strange to his own ears as though coming from a long wayoff. .. Was it death or what?

And suddenly he felt the fresh air blowing about his face, no morepushing and shoving, no more stench of spirits, sheep-skin, tar, norleather. .. . He was again sitting beside Pavel in the cart, struggling atfirst and shouting, "Where are you off to? Stop! I haven't had time totell them anything--I must explain. .. " and then added, "and what areyour own ideas on the subject, you sly-boots?"

"It would certainly be well if there were no gentry and the landbelonged to us, of course, " Pavel replied, "but there's been no suchorder from the government. " He quietly turned the horse's head and, suddenly lashing it on the back with the reins, set off at full gallop, away from this din and uproar, back to the factory. 

Nejdanov sat dozing, rocked by the motion of the cart, while thewind played pleasantly about his face and kept back gloomy depressingthoughts. 

He was annoyed that he had not been allowed to say all that he hadwanted to say. Again the wind caressed his overheated face. 

And then--a momentary glimpse of Mariana--a burning sense of shame--andsleep, deep, sound sleep. .. 

Pavel told Solomin all this afterwards, not hiding the fact that he didnot attempt to prevent Nejdanov from drinking--otherwise he could nothave got him out of the whirl. The others would not have let him go. 

"When he seemed to be getting very feeble, I asked them to let him off, and they agreed to, on condition that I gave them a shilling, so I gaveit them. "

"You acted quite rightly, " Solomin said, approvingly. 

Nejdanov slept, while Mariana sat at the window looking out into thegarden. Strange to say the angry, almost wicked, thoughts that hadbeen tormenting her until Nejdanov and Pavel arrived had completelydisappeared. Nejdanov himself was not in the least repulsive ordisgusting to her; she was only sorry for him. She knew quite well thathe was not a debauchee, a drunkard, and was wondering what she would sayto him when he woke up; something friendly and affectionate to minimisethe first sting of conscience and shame. "I must try and get him to tellme himself how it all happened, " she thought. 

She was not disturbed, but depressed--hopelessly depressed. It seemedas if a breath of the real atmosphere of the world towards which she wasstriving had blown on her suddenly, making her shudder at its coarsenessand darkness. What Moloch was this to which she was going to sacrificeherself?

But no! It could not be! This was merely an incident, it would soon passover. A momentary impression that had struck her so forcibly because ithad happened so unexpectedly. She got up, walked over to the couch onwhich Nejdanov was lying, took out her pocket-handkerchief and wiped hispale forehead, which was painfully drawn, even in sleep, and smoothedback his hair. .. 

She pitied him as a mother pities her suffering child. But it wassomewhat painful for her to look at him, so she went quietly into herown room, leaving the door unlocked. 

She did not attempt to take any work in her hand. She sat down andthoughts began crowding in upon her. She felt how the time was slippingaway, how one minute flew after another, and the sensation was evenpleasant to her. Her heart beat fast and again she seemed to be waitingfor something. 

What has become of Solomin?

The door creaked softly and Tatiana came into the room. "What do youwant?" Mariana asked with a shade of annoyance. 

"Mariana Vikentievna, " Tatiana began in an undertone, "don't worry, mydear. Such things happen every day. Besides, the Lord be thanked--"

"I am not worrying at all, Tatiana Osipovna, " Mariana interrupted her. "Alexai Dmitritch is a little indisposed, nothing very serious!"

"That's all right! I wondered why you didn't come, and thought theremight be something the matter with you. But still I wouldn't have comein to you. It's always best not to interfere. But someone has come--alittle lame man, the Lord knows who he is--and demands to see AlexaiDmitritch! I wonder what for? This morning that female came for him andnow this little cripple. 'If Alexai Dmitritch is not at home, ' he says, 'then I must see Vassily Fedotitch! I won't go away without seeing him. It's on a very urgent matter. ' We wanted to get rid of him, as we didof that woman, told him Vassily Fedotitch was not at home, but he isdetermined to see him even if he has to wait until midnight. There heis walking about in the yard. Come and have a look at him through thelittle window in the corridor. Perhaps you'll recognise him. "

Mariana followed Tatiana out into the corridor, and on passing Nejdanovwas again struck by that painful frown on his forehead and passed herpocket-handkerchief over it a second time. 

Through the dusty little window she caught a glimpse of the visitor whomTatiana had spoken of. He was unknown to her. At this moment Solominappeared from a corner of the house. 

The little cripple rushed up to him and extended his hand. Solominpressed it. He was obviously acquainted with him. They bothdisappeared. .. Soon their footsteps were heard coming up the stairs. They were coming to see her. 

Mariana fled into her own room and remained standing in the middle ofit, hardly able to breathe. She was mortally afraid. .. But of what? Shedid not know herself. 

Solomin's head appeared through the door. 

"Mariana Vikentievna, can I come in? I have brought someone whom it'sabsolutely necessary for you to see. "

Mariana merely nodded her head in reply and behind Solomin inwalked--Paklin. 

XXXIII

"I AM a friend of your husband's, " he said, bowing very low, as ifanxious to conceal his frightened face, "and also of Vassily Fedotitch. I hear Alexai Dmitritch is asleep and not very well. Unfortunately, Ihave brought bad news. I have already told Vassily Fedotitch somethingabout it and am afraid decisive measures will have to be taken. "

Paklin's voice broke continually, like that of a man who was torturedby thirst. The items of news he had to communicate were certainly veryunpleasant ones. Some peasants had seized Markelov and brought him tothe town. The stupid clerk had betrayed Golushkin, who was now underarrest, he in his turn was betraying everything and everybody, wanted togo over to the Orthodox Church, had offered to present a portrait of theBishop Filaret to the public school, and had already given five thousandroubles to be distributed among crippled soldiers. There was not ashadow of a doubt that he had informed against Nejdanov; the policemight make a raid upon the factory any moment. Vassily Fedotitch wasalso in danger. "As for myself, " Paklin added, "I am surprised thatI'm still allowed to roam at large, although it's true that I've neverreally interested myself in practical politics or taken part in anyschemes. I have taken advantage of this oversight on the part of thepolice to put you on your guard and find out what had best be done toavoid any unpleasantness. "

Mariana listened to Paklin to the end. She did not seem alarmed; on theother hand she was quite calm. But something must really be done! Shefixed her eyes on Solomin. 

He was also composed; only around his lips there was the faintestmovement of the muscles; but it was not his habitual smile. 

Solomin understood the meaning of Mariana's glance; she waited for himto say what had best be done. 

"It's a very awkward business, " he began; "I don't think it would doNejdanov any harm to go into hiding for a time. But, by the way, how didyou get to know that he was here, Mr. Paklin?"

Paklin gave a wave of the hand. 

"A certain individual told me. He had seen him preaching about theneighbourhood and had followed him, though with no evil intent. He is asympathiser. Excuse me, " he added, turning to Mariana, "is it true thatour friend Nejdanov has been very. .. Very careless?"

"It's no good blaming him now, " Solomin began again. "What a pity wecan't talk things over with him now, but by tomorrow he will be allright again. The police don't do things as quickly as you seem toimagine. You will have to go away with him, Mariana Vikentievna. "

"Certainly, " she said resolutely, a lump rising in her throat. 

"Yes, " Solomin said, "we must think it over, consider ways and means. "

"May I make a suggestion?" Paklin began. "It entered my head as I wascoming along here. I must tell you, by the way, that I dismissed thecabman from the town a mile away from here. "

"What is your suggestion?" Solomin asked. 

"Let me have some horses at once and I'll gallop off to the Sipiagins. "

"To the Sipiagins!" Mariana exclaimed. "Why?"

"You will see. "

"But do you know them?"

"Not at all! But listen. Do think over my suggestion thoroughly. Itseems to me a brilliant one. Markelov is Sipiagin's brother-in-law, his wife's brother, isn't that so? Would this gentleman really makeno attempt to save him? And as for Nejdanov himself, granting that Mr. Sipiagin is most awfully angry with him, still he has become a relationof his by marrying you. And the danger hanging over our friend--"

"I am not married, " Mariana observed. 

Paklin started. 

"What? Haven't managed it all this time! Well, never mind, " he added, "one can pretend a little. All the same, you will get married directly. There seems nothing else to be done! Take into consideration the factthat up until now Sipiagin has not persecuted you, which shows him tobe a man capable of a certain amount of generosity. I see that you don'tlike the expression--well, a certain amount of pride. Why should we nottake advantage of it? Consider for yourself!"

Mariana raised her head and passed her hand through her air. 

"You can take advantage of whatever you like for Markelov, Mr. Paklin. .. Or for yourself, but Alexai and I do not desire the protection orpatronage of Mr. Sipiagin. We did not leave his house only to goknocking at his door as beggars. The pride and generosity of Mr. Sipiagin and his wife have nothing whatever to do with us!"

"Such sentiments are extremely praiseworthy, " Paklin replied ("Howutterly crushed!" he thought to himself), "though, on the other hand, ifyou think of it. .. However, I am ready to obey you. I will exert myselfonly on Markelov's account, our good Markelov! I must say, however, that he is not his blood relation, but only related to him through hiswife--while you--"

"Mr Paklin, I beg of you!"

"I'm sorry. .. Only I can't tell you how disappointing it is--Sipiagin isa very influential man. "

"Have you no fears for yourself?" Solomin asked. 

Paklin drew himself up. 

"There are moments when one must not think of oneself!" he said proudly. And he was thinking of himself all the while. Poor little man! he wantedto run away as fast as he could. On the strength of the service renderedhim, Sipiagin might, if need be, speak a word in his favour. Forhe too--say what he would--was implicated, he had listened and hadchattered a little himself. 

"I don't think your suggestion is a bad one, " Solomin observed at last, "although there is not much hope of success. At any rate there is no harmin trying. "

"Of course not. Supposing they pitch me out by the scruff of the neck, what harm will it do?"

"That won't matter very much" ("Merci, " Paklin thought to himself). "What is the time?" Solomin asked. "Five o'clock. We mustn't dawdle. Youshall have the horses directly. Pavel!"

But instead of Pavel, Nejdanov appeared in the doorway. He staggeredand steadied himself on the doorpost. He opened his mouth feebly, lookedaround with his glassy eyes, comprehending nothing. Paklin was the firstto approach him. 

"Aliosha!" he exclaimed, "don't you know me?" Nejdanov stared at him, blinking slowly. 

"Paklin?" he said at last. 

"Yes, it is I. Aren't you well?"

"No. .. I'm not well. But why are you here?"

"Why?". .. But at this moment Mariana stealthily touched Paklin on theelbow. He turned around and saw that she was making signs to him. "Oh, yes!" he muttered. "Yes. .. . You see, Aliosha, " he added aloud, "I'vecome here upon a very important matter and must go away at once. Solominwill tell you all about it--and Mariana--Mariana Vikentievna. They bothfully approve of what I am going to do. The thing concerns us all. No, no, " he put in hastily in response to a look and gesture from Mariana. "The thing concerns Markelov; our mutual friend Markelov; it concernshim alone. But I must say goodbye now. Every minute is precious. Goodbye, Aliosha. .. We'll see each other again sometime. VassilyFedotitch, can you come with me to see about the horses?"

"Certainly. Mariana, I wanted to ask you to be firm, but that is notnecessary. You're a brick!"

"Yes, yes, " Paklin chimed in, "you are just like a Roman maiden inCato's time! Cato of Utica! We must be off, Vassily Fedotitch, comealong!"

"There's plenty of time, " Solomin observed with a faint smile. Nejdanovstood on one side to allow them room to pass out, but there was the samevacant expression in his eyes. After they had gone he took a step or twoforward and sat down on a chair facing Mariana. 

"Alexai, " she began, "everything has been found out. Markelov has beenseized by the very peasants he was trying to better, and is now underarrest in this town, and so is the merchant with whom you dined once. I dare say the police will soon be here for us too. Paklin has gone toSipiagin. "

"Why?" Nejdanov asked in a scarcely audible whisper. But there was akeen look in his eyes--his face assumed it's habitual expression. Thestupor had left him instantly. 

"To try and find out if he would be willing to intercede. "

Nejdanov sat up straight. 

"For us?

"No, for Markelov. He wanted to ask him to intercede for us too. .. ButI wouldn't let him. Have I done well, Alexai?"

"Have you done well?" Nejdanov asked and without rising from his chair, stretched out his arms to her. "Have you done well?" he repeated, drawing her close to him, and pressing his face against her waist, suddenly burst into tears. 

"What is the matter? What is the matter with you?" Mariana exclaimed. And as on the day when he had fallen on his knees before her, tremblingand breathless in a torrent of passion, she laid both her hands on histrembling head. But what she felt now was quite different from what shehad felt then. Then she had given herself up to him--had submitted tohim and only waited to hear what he would say next, but now she pitiedhim and only wondered what she could do to calm him. 

"What is the matter with you?" she repeated. "Why are you crying? Notbecause you came home in a somewhat. .. Strange condition? It can't be!Or are you sorry for Markelov--afraid for me, for yourself? Or is it forour lost hopes? You did not really expect that everything would go offsmoothly!"

Nejdanov suddenly lifted his bead. 

"It's not that, Mariana, " he said, mastering his sobs by an effort, "Iam not afraid for either of us. .. But. .. I am sorry. 

"For whom?"

"For you, Mariana! I am sorry that you should have united your fate witha man who is not worthy of you. "

"Why not?"

"If only because he can be crying at a moment as this!"

"It is not you but your nerves that are crying!"

"You can't separate me from my nerves! But listen, Mariana, look me inthe face; can you tell me now that you do not regret--"

"What?"

"That you ran away with me. "

"No!"

"And would you go with me further? Anywhere?"

"Yes!"

"Really? Mariana. .. Really?

"Yes. I have given you my word, and so long as you remain the man Ilove--I shall not take it back. "

Nejdanov remained sitting on the chair, Mariana standing before him. Hisarms were about her waist, her's were resting on his shoulders. 

"Yes, no, " Nejdanov thought. .. "when I last held her in my arms likethis, her body was at least motionless, but now I can feel it--againsther will, perhaps--shrink away from me gently!"

He loosened his arms and Mariana did in fact move away from him alittle. 

"If that's so, " he said aloud, "if we must run away from here before thepolice find us. .. I think it wouldn't be a bad thing if we were to getmarried. We may not find another such accommodating priest as FatherZosim!"

"I am quite ready, " Mariana observed. 

Nejdanov gave her a searching glance. 

"A Roman maiden!" he exclaimed with a sarcastic half-smile. "What afeeling of duty!"

Mariana shrugged her shoulders. 

"We must tell Solomin. "

"Yes. .. Solomin. .. " Nejdanov drawled out. "But he is also in danger. Thepolice would arrest him too. It seems to me that he also took part inthings and knew even more than we did. "

"I don't know about that, " Mariana observed. "He never speaks ofhimself!

"Not as I do!" Nejdanov thought. "That was what she meant to imply. Solomin. .. Solomin!" he added after a pause. "Do you know, Mariana, Ishould not be at all sorry if you had linked your fate forever with aman like Solomin. .. Or with Solomin himself. "

Mariana gave Nejdanov a penetrating glance in her turn. "You had noright to say that, " she observed at last. 

"I had no right! In what sense am I to take that? Does it mean thatyou love me, or that I ought not to touch upon this question generallyspeaking?"

"You had no right, " Mariana repeated. 

Nejdanov lowered his head. 

"Mariana!" he exclaimed in a slightly different tone of voice. 

"Yes?

"If I were to ask you now. .. Now. .. You know what. .. But no, I will notask anything of you. . Goodbye. "

He got up and went out; Mariana did not detain him. Nejdanov sat down onthe couch and covered his face with his hands. He was afraid of his ownthoughts and tried to stop thinking. He felt that some sort of dark, underground hand had clutched at the very root of his being and wouldnot let him go. He knew that the dear, sweet creature he had left inthe next room would not come out to him and he dared not go to her. Whatfor? What would he say to her?

Firm, rapid footsteps made him open his eyes. Solomin passed through hisroom, knocked at Mariana's door, and went in. 

"Honour where honour is due!" Nejdanov whispered bitterly. 

XXXIV

IT was already ten o'clock in the evening; in the drawing-room of theArjanov house Sipiagin, his wife, and Kollomietzev were sitting overa game at cards when a footman entered and announced that an unknowngentleman, a certain Mr. Paklin, wished to see Boris Andraevitch upon avery urgent business. 

"So late!" Valentina Mihailovna exclaimed, surprised. 

"What?" Boris Andraevitch asked, screwing up his handsome nose; "what didyou say the gentleman's name was?"

"Mr. Paklin, sir. "

"Paklin!" Kollomietzev exclaimed; "a real country name. Paklin. . . Solomin. .. De vrais noms ruraux, hein?"

"Did you say, " Boris Andraevitch continued, still turned towards thefootman with his nose screwed up, "that the business was an urgent one?"

"The gentleman said so, sir. "

"H'm. .. . No doubt some beggar or intriguer. "

"Or both, " Kollomietzev chimed in. 

"Very likely. Ask him into my study. " Boris Andraevitch got up. "Pardon, ma bonne. Have a game of ecarte till I come back, unless you would liketo wait for me. I won't be long. "

"Nous causerons. .. Allez!" Kollomietzev said. 

When Sipiagin entered his study and caught sight of Paklin's poor, feeble little figure meekly leaning up against the door between the walland the fireplace, he was seized by that truly ministerial sensation ofhaughty compassion and fastidious condescension so characteristic of theSt. Petersburg bureaucrat. "Heavens! What a miserable little wretch!" hethought; "and lame too, I believe!"

"Sit down, please, " he said aloud, making use of some of his mostbenevolent baritone notes and throwing back his head, sat down beforehis guest did. "You are no doubt tired from the journey. Sit down, please, and tell me about this important matter that has brought you solate. "

"Your excellency, " Paklin began, cautiously dropping into an arm-chair, "I have taken the liberty of coming to you--"

"Just a minute, please, " Sipiagin interrupted him, "I think I've seenyou before. I never forget faces. But er. .. Er. .. Really. .. Where have Iseen you?"

"You are not mistaken, your excellency. I had the honour of meetingyou in St. Petersburg at a certain person's who. .. Who has since. .. Unfortunately. .. Incurred your displeasure--"

Sipiagin jumped up from his chair. 

"Why, at Mr. Nejdanov's? I remember now. You haven't come from him bythe way, have you?"

"Not at all, your excellency; on the contrary. .. I--"

Sipiagin sat down again. 

"That's good. For had you come on his account I should have asked you toleave the house at once. I cannot allow any mediator between myselfand Mr. Nejdanov. Mr. Nejdanov has insulted me in a way which cannotbe forgotten. .. I am above any feelings of revenge, but I don't wishto know anything of him, nor of the girl--more depraved in mind than inheart" (Sipiagin had repeated this phrase at least thirty times sinceMariana ran away), "who could bring herself to abandon a home that hadsheltered her, to become the mistress of a nameless adventurer! It isenough for them that I am content to forget them. "

At this last word Sipiagin waved his wrist into space. 

"I forget them, my dear sir!"

"Your excellency, I have already told you that I did not come from themin particular, but I may inform your excellency that they are legallymarried. .. " ("It's all the same, " Paklin thought; "I said that I wouldlie and so here I am. Never mind!")

Sipiagin moved his head from left to right on the back of his chair. 

"It does not interest me in the least, sir. It only makes one foolishmarriage the more in the world--that's all. But what is this urgentmatter to which I am indebted for the pleasure of your visit?"

"Ugh! you cursed director of a department!" Paklin thought, "I'll soonmake you pull a different face!" "Your wife's brother, " he said aloud, "Mr. Markelov, has been seized by the peasants whom he had been incitingto rebellion, and is now under arrest in the governor's house. "

Sipiagin jumped up a second time. 

"What. .. What did you say?" he blurted out, not at all in his accustomedministerial baritones, but in an extremely undignified manner. 

"I said that your brother-in-law has been seized and is in chains. Assoon as I heard of it, I procured horses and came straight away to tellyou. I thought that I might be rendering a service to you and to theunfortunate man whom you may be able to save!"

"I am extremely grateful to you, " Sipiagin said in the same feeble toneof voice, and violently pressing a bell, shaped like a mushroom, hefilled the whole house with its clear metallic ring. "I am extremelygrateful to you, " he repeated more sharply, "but I must tell you thata man who can bring himself to trample under foot all laws, humanand divine, were he a hundred times related to me--is in my eyes notunfortunate; he is a criminal!"

A footman came in quickly. 

"Your orders, sir?

"The carriage! the carriage and four horses this minute! I am going totown. Philip and Stepan are to come with me!" The footman disappeared. "Yes, sir, my brother-in-law is a criminal! I am going to town not tosave him! Oh, no!"

"But, your excellency--"

"Such are my principles, my dear sir, and I beg you not to annoy me byyour objections!"

Sipiagin began pacing up and down the room, while Paklin stared withall his might. "Ugh! you devil!" he thought, "I heard that you were aliberal, but you're just like a hungry lion!"

The door was flung open and Valentina Mihailovna came into the room withhurried steps, followed by Kollomietzev. 

"What is the matter, Boris? Why have you ordered the carriage? Are yougoing to town? What has happened?"

Sipiagin went up to his wife and took her by the arm, between the elbowand wrist. "Il faut vous armer de courage, ma chere. Your brother hasbeen arrested. "

"My brother? Sergai? What for?"

"He has been preaching socialism to the peasants. " (Kollomietzev gavea faint little scream. ) "Yes! preaching revolutionary ideas, makingpropaganda! They seized him--and gave him up. He is now under arrest inthe town. "

"Madman! But who told you?"

"This Mr. .. Mr. .. What's his name? Mr. Konopatin brought the news. "

Valentina Mihailovna glanced at Paklin; the latter bowed dejectedly. ("What a glorious woman!" he thought. Even in such difficult moments. .. Alas! how susceptible Paklin was to feminine beauty!)

"And you want to go to town at this hour?"

"I think the governor will still be up. "

"I always said it would end like this, " Kollomietzev put in. "Itcouldn't have been otherwise! But what dears our peasants are really!Pardon, madame, c'est votre frere! Mais la verite avant tout!"

"Do you really intend going to town, Boris?" Valentina Mihailovna asked. 

"I feel absolutely certain, " Kollomietzev continued, "that that tutor, Mr. Nejdanov, is mixed up in this. J'en mettrais ma main au feu. It'sall one gang! Haven't they seized him? Don't you know?"

Sipiagin waved his wrist again. 

"I don't know--and don't want to know! By the way, " he added, turning tohis wife, "il parait qu'il sont maries. "

"Who said so? That same gentleman?" Valentina Mihailovna looked atPaklin again, this time with half-closed eyes. 

"Yes. "

"In that case, " Kollomietzev put in, "he must know where they are. Doyou know where they are? Do you know? Eh? Do you know?"

Kollomietzev took to walking up and down in front of Paklin as if tocut off his way, although the latter had not betrayed the slightestinclination of wanting to run away. "Why don't you speak? Answer me! Doyou know, eh? Do you know?"

"Even if I knew, " Paklin began, annoyed; his wrath had risen up in himat last and his eyes flashed fire: "even if I knew I would not tellyou. "

"Oh. .. Oh. .. " Kollomietzev muttered. "Do you hear? Do you hear? This onetoo--this one too is of their gang!"

"The carriage is ready!" a footman announced loudly. Sipiagin with aquick graceful movement seized his hat, but Valentina Mihailovna was soinsistent in her persuasions for him to put off the journey until themorning and brought so many convincing arguments to bear--such as: thatit was pitch dark outside, that everybody in town would be asleep, thathe would only upset his nerves and might catch cold--that Sipiagin atlength came to agree with her. 

"I obey!" he exclaimed, and with the same graceful gesture, not so rapidthis time, replaced his hat on the table. 

"I shall not want the carriage now, " he said to the footman, "but seethat it's ready at six o'clock in the morning! Do you hear? 'You cango now! But stay! See that the gentleman's carriage is sent off and thedriver paid. .. I What? Did you say anything, Mr. Konopatin? I am goingto take you to town with me tomorrow, Mr. Konopatin! What did you say? Ican't hear. .. Do you take vodka? Give Mr. Konopatin some vodka! No? Youdon't drink? In that case. .. Feodor! take the gentleman into the greenroom! Goodnight, Mr. Kono--"

Paklin lost all patience. 

"Paklin!" he shouted, "my name is Paklin!"

"Oh, yes. .. It makes no difference. A bit alike, you know. What apowerful voice you have for your spare build! Till tomorrow, Mr. Paklin. .. . Have I got it right this time? Simeon, vous viendrez avecnous?"

"Je crois bien!"

Paklin was conducted into the green room and locked in. He distinctlyheard the key turned in the English lock as he got into bed. He scoldedhimself severely for his "brilliant idea" and slept very badly. 

He was awakened early the next morning at half-past five and givencoffee. As he drank it a footman with striped shoulder-knots stood overhim with the tray in his hand, shifting from one leg to the other asthough he were saying, "Hurry up! the gentlemen are waiting!" Hewas taken downstairs. The carriage was already waiting at the door. Kollomietzev's open carriage was also there. Sipiagin appeared on thesteps in a cloak made of camel's hair with a round collar. Such cloakshad long ago ceased to be worn except by a certain important dignitarywhom Sipiagin pandered to and wished to imitate. On important officialoccasions he invariably put on this cloak. 

Sipiagin greeted Paklin affably, and with an energetic movement ofthe hand pointed to the carriage and asked him to take his seat. "Mr. Paklin, you are coming with me, Mr. Paklin! Put your bag on the box, Mr. Paklin! I am taking Mr. Paklin, " he said, emphasising the word "Paklin"with special stress on the letter a. "You have an awful name like thatand get insulted when people change it for you--so here you are then!Take your fill of it! Mr. Paklin! Paklin!" The unfortunate name rang outclearly in the cool morning air. It was so keen as to make Kollomietzev, who came out after Sipiagin, exclaim several times in French. .. 

"Brrr! brrr! brrr!" He wrapped his cloak more closely about him andseated himself in his elegant carriage with the hood thrown back. (Hadhis poor friend Michael Obrenovitch, the Servian prince, seen it, hewould certainly have bought one like it at Binder's. .. . "Vous savezBinder, le grand carrossier des Champs Elysees?")

Valentina Mihailovna, still in her night garments, peeped out frombehind the half-open shutters of her bedroom. Sipiagin waved his hand toher from the carriage. 

"Are you quite comfortable, Mr. Paklin? Go on!"

"Je vous recommande mon frere, epargnez-le!" Valentina Mihailovna said. 

"Soyez tranquille!" Kollomietzev exclaimed, glancing up at her quicklyfrom under the brim of his travelling cap--one of his own special designwith a cockade in it--"C'est surtout l'autre, qu'il faut pincer!"

"Go on!" Sipiagin exclaimed again. "You are not cold, Mr. Paklin? Goon!"

The two carriages rolled away. 

For about ten minutes neither Sipiagin nor Paklin pronounced a singleword. The unfortunate Sila, in his shabby little coat and crumpled cap, looked even more wretched than usual in contrast to the rich backgroundof dark blue silk with which the carriage was upholstered. He lookedaround in silence at the delicate pale blue blinds, which flew upinstantly at the mere press of a button, at the soft white sheep-skinrug at their feet, at the mahogany box in front with a movable desk forletters and even a shelf for books. (Boris Andraevitch never worked inhis carriage, but he liked people to think that he did, after the mannerof Thiers, who always worked when travelling. ) Paklin felt shy. Sipiaginglanced at him once or twice over his clean-shaven cheek, and with apompous deliberation pulled out of a side-pocket a silver cigar-casewith a curly monogram and a Slavonic band and offered him. .. Reallyoffered him a cigar, holding it gently between the second and thirdfingers of a hand neatly clad in an English glove of yellow dogskin. 

"I don't smoke, " Paklin muttered. 

"Really!" Sipiagin exclaimed and lighted the cigar himself, an excellentregalia. 

"I must tell you. .. My dear Mr. Paklin, " he began, puffing gracefullyat his cigar and sending out delicate rings of delicious smoke, "that Iam. .. Really. .. Very grateful to you. I might have. .. Seemed. .. Alittle severe. .. Last night. .. Which does not really. .. Do justice tomy character. .. Believe me. " (Sipiagin purposely hesitated over hisspeech. ) "But just put yourself in my place, Mr. Paklin!" (Sipiaginrolled the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. ) "Theposition I occupy places me. .. So to speak. .. Before the public eye, and suddenly, without any warning. .. My wife's brother. .. Compromiseshimself. .. And me, in this impossible way! Well, Mr. Paklin? But perhapsyou think that it's nothing?"

"I am far from thinking that, your excellency. "

"You don't happen to know exactly why. .. And where he was arrested?"

"I heard that he was arrested in T. District. "

"Who told you so?"

"A certain person. "

"Of course it could hardly have been a bird. But who was this person?"

"An assistant. .. Of the director of the governor's office--"

"What's his name?"

"The director's?"

"No, the assistant's. "

"His name is. .. Ulyashevitch. He is a very honest man, your excellency. As soon as I heard of the affair, I hastened to tell you. "

"Yes, yes. I am very grateful to you indeed. But what utter madness!downright madness! Don't you think so, Mr. Paklin?"

"Utter madness!" Paklin exclaimed, while the perspiration rolled downhis back in a hot stream, "it just shows, " he continued, "the folly ofnot understanding the peasant. Mr. Markelov, so far as I know him, hasa very kind and generous heart, but he has no conception of what theRussian peasant is really like. " (Paklin glanced at Sipiagin who satslightly turned towards him, gazing at him with a cold, though notunfriendly, light in his eyes. ) "The Russian peasant can never beinduced to revolt except by taking advantage of that devotion of histo some high authority, some tsar. Some sort of legend must beinvented--you remember Dmitrius the pretender--some sort of royal signmust be shown him, branded on the breast. "

"Just like Pugatchev, " Sipiagin interrupted him in a tone of voice whichseemed to imply that he had not yet forgotten his history and thatit was really not necessary for Paklin to go on. "What madness! whatmadness!" he added, and became wrapped in the contemplation of the ringsof smoke as they rose quickly one after another from the end of hiscigar. 

"Your excellency, " Paklin began apologetically, "I have just said that Ididn't smoke. .. But it was not true. I do smoke and your cigar smells sonice--"

"Eh? What?" Sipiagin asked as if waking up; and without giving Paklintime to repeat his request, he proved in the most unmistakable mannerthat he had heard every word, and had merely asked his questions for thesake of dignity, by offering him his cigar-case. 

Paklin took a cigar gratefully and lighted it with care. 

"Here's a good opportunity, " he thought, but Sipiagin had anticipatedhim. 

"I remember your saying. .. " he began carelessly, stopping to look at hiscigar and pulling his hat lower over his forehead, "you spoke. .. Of. .. Of that friend of yours, who married my . .. Niece. Do you ever see them?They've settled not far from here, eh?"

("Take care! be on your guard, Sila!" Paklin thought. )

"I have only seen them once, your excellency. They are living. . . Certainly. .. Not very far from here. "

"You quite understand, I hope, " Sipiagin continued in the same tone, "that I can take no further serious interest--as I explained toyou--either in that frivolous girl or in your friend. Heaven knows thatI have no prejudices, but really, you will agree with me, this is toomuch! So foolish, you know. However, I suppose they were more drawntogether by politics. . . " ("politics!" he repeated, shrugging hisshoulders) "than by any other feeling!"

"I think so too, your excellency!"

"Yes, Mr. Nejdanov was certainly revolutionary. To do him justice hemade no secret of his opinions. "

"Nejdanov, " Paklin ventured, "may have been carried away, but hisheart--"

"Is good, " Sipiagin put in; "I know, like Markelov's. They all have goodhearts. He has no doubt also been mixed up in this affair. .. And will beimplicated. .. . I suppose I shall have to intercede for him too!"

Paklin clasped his hands to his breast. 

"Oh, your excellency! Extend your protection to him! He fully. .. Deserves. .. Your sympathy. "

Sipiagin snorted. 

"You think so?"

"At any rate if not for him. .. For your niece's sake; for his wife!"("Heavens! What lies I'm telling, " Paklin thought. )

Sipiagin half-closed his eyes. 

"I see that you're a very devoted friend. That's a very good quality, very praiseworthy, young man. And so you said they lived in thisneighbourhood?"

"Yes, your excellency; in a large establishment--" Here Paklin bit histongue. 

"Why, of course, at Solomin's! that's where they are! However, I knew itall along. I've been told so; I've already been informed. " (Mr. Sipiagin did not know this in the least, and no one had told him, butrecollecting Solomin's visit and their midnight interview, he promptlythrew out this bait, which caught Paklin at once. )

"Since you know that, " he began and bit his tongue a second time . .. Butit was already too late. A single glance at Sipiagin made him realisethat he had been playing with him as a cat plays with a mouse. 

"I must say, your excellency, " the unfortunate Paklin stammered out; "Imust say, that I really know nothing--"

"But I ask you no questions! Really! What do you take me and yourselffor?" Sipiagin asked haughtily, and promptly withdrew into hisministerial heights. 

And Paklin again felt himself a mean little ensnared creature. Untilthat moment he had kept the cigar in the corner of his mouth away fromSipiagin and puffed at it quietly, blowing the smoke to one side; now hetook it out of his mouth and ceased smoking altogether. 

"My God!" he groaned inwardly, while the perspiration streamed down hisback more and more, "what have I done? I have betrayed everything andeverybody. .. I have been duped, been bought over by a good cigar!! I ama traitor! What shall I do now to help matters? Oh God!"

But there was nothing to be done. Sipiagin dozed off in a haughty, dignified, ministerial manner, enveloped in his stately cloak. 

XXXV

THE governor of S. Was one of those good-natured, happy-go-lucky, worldly generals who, endowed with wonderfully clean, snow-white bodiesand souls to match, of good breeding and education, are turned out of amill where they are never ground down to becoming the "shepherds ofthe people. " Nevertheless they prove themselves capable of a tolerableamount of administrative ability--do little work, but are foreversighing after St. Petersburg and paying court to all the pretty women ofthe place. These are men who in some unaccountable way become useful totheir province and manage to leave pleasant memories behind them. Thegovernor had only just got out of bed, and was comfortably seated beforehis dressing-table in his night-shirt and silk dressing-gown, bathinghis face and neck with eau-de-cologne after having removed a wholecollection of charms and coins dangling from it, when he was informed ofthe arrival of Sipiagin and Kollomietzev upon some urgent business. Hewas very familiar with Sipiagin, having known him from childhood andconstantly run across him in St. Petersburg drawing-rooms, and lately hehad begun to ejaculate a respectful "Ah!" every time his name occurredto him--as if he saw in him a future statesman. Kollomietzev he did notknow so well and respected less in consequence of various unpleasantcomplaints that had been made against him; however, he looked upon himas a man qui fera chemin in any case. 

He ordered his guests to be shown into his study, where he soon joinedthem, as he was, in his silk dressing-gown, and not so much as excusinghimself for receiving them in such an unofficial costume, shook handswith them heartily. Only Sipiagin and Kollomietzev appeared in thegovernor's study; Paklin remained in the drawing-room. On getting outof the carriage he had tried to slip away, muttering that he had somebusiness at home, but Sipiagin had detained him with a polite firmness(Kollomietzev had rushed up to him and whispered in his ear: "Ne lelacher pas! Tonnerre de tonnerres!") and taken him in. He had not, however, taken him to the study, but had asked him, with the same politefirmness, to wait in the drawing-room until he was wanted. Even herePaklin had hoped to escape, but a robust gendarme at Kollomietzev'sinstruction appeared in the doorway; so Paklin remained. 

"I dare say you've guessed what has brought me to you, Voldemar, "Sipiagin began. 

"No, my dear, no, I can't, " the amiable Epicurean replied, while a smileof welcome played about his rosy cheeks, showing a glimpse of shinyteeth, half hidden by his silky moustache. 

"What? Don't you know about Markelov?"

"What do you mean? What Markelov?" the governor repeated with the samejoyful expression on his face. He did not remember, in the first place, that the man who was arrested yesterday was called Markelov, and, inthe second, he had quite forgotten that Sipiagin's wife had a brotherof that name. "But why are you standing, Boris? Sit down. Would you likesome tea?"

Sipiagin's mind was far from tea. 

When at last he explained why they had both appeared, the governoruttered an exclamation of pain and struck himself on the forehead, whilehis face assumed a sympathetic expression. 

"Dear me! what a misfortune! And he's here now--today. .. . You know wenever keep that sort with us for more than one night at the outside, but the chief of police is out of town, so your brother-in-law has beendetained. He is to be sent on tomorrow. Dear me! what a dreadful thing!What your wife must have gone through! What would you like me to do?"

"I would like to have an interview with him here, if it is not againstthe law. "

"My dear boy! laws are not made for men like you. I do feel so sorry foryou. .. . C'est affreux, tu sais!"

He gave a peculiar ring. An adjutant appeared. 

"My dear baron, do please make some arrangement there. .. " He told himwhat he wanted and the baron vanished. "Only think, mon cher ami, thepeasants nearly killed him. They tied his hands behind him, flung himin a cart, and brought him here! And he's not in the least bit angryor indignant with them you know! He was so calm altogether that I wasamazed! But you will see for yourself. C'est un fanatique tranquille. "

"Ce sont les pires, " Kollomietzev remarked sarcastically. The governorlooked up at him from under his eyebrows. "By the way, I must have aword with you, Simion Petrovitch. "

"Yes; what about?"

"I don't like things at all--"

"What things?"

"You know that peasant who owed you money and came here to complain--"

"Well?"

"He's hanged himself. "

"When?"

"It's of no consequence when; but it's an ugly affair. "

Kollomietzev merely shrugged his shoulders and moved away to the windowwith a graceful swing of the body. At this moment the adjutant broughtin Markelov. 

The governor had been right; he was unnaturally calm. Even his habitualmoroseness had given place to an expression of weary indifference, whichdid not change when he caught sight of his brother-in-law. Only in theglance which he threw on the German adjutant, who was escorting him, there was a momentary flash of the old hatred he felt towards suchpeople. His coat had been torn in several places and hurriedly stitchedup with coarse thread; his forehead, eyebrows, and the bridge of hisnose were covered with small scars caked with clotted blood. He had notwashed, but had combed his hair. 

"Sergai Mihailovitch!" Sipiagin began excitedly, taking a step or twotowards him and extending his right hand, only so that he might touchhim or stop him if he made a movement in advance, "Sergai Mihailovitch!I am not here to tell you of our amazement, our deep distress--you canhave no doubt of that! You wanted to ruin yourself and have done so!But I've come to tell you. .. That. .. That. .. To give you the chance ofhearing sound common-sense through the voice of honour and friendship. You can still mitigate your lot and, believe me, I will do all inmy power to help you, as the honoured head of this province can bearwitness!" At this point Sipiagin raised his voice. "A real penitenceof your wrongs and a full confession without reserve which will be dulypresented in the proper quarters--"

"Your excellency, " Markelov exclaimed suddenly, turning towards thegovernor--the very sound of his voice was calm, though it was a littlehoarse; "I thought that you wanted to see me in order to cross-examineme again, but if I have been brought here solely by Mr. Sipiagin's wish, then please order me to be taken back again. We cannot understand oneanother. All he says is so much Greek to me. "

"Greek, eh!" Kollomietzev shrieked. "And to set peasants rioting, isthat Greek too? Is that Greek too, eh?

"What have you here, your excellency? A landowner of the secret police?And how zealous he is!" Markelov remarked, a faint smile of pleasureplaying about his pale lips. 

Kollomietzev stamped and raged, but the governor stopped him. 

"It serves you right, Simion Petrovitch. You shouldn't interfere in whatis not your business. "

"Not my business. .. Not my business. .. It seems to me that it's thebusiness of every nobleman--"

Markelov scanned Kollomietzev coldly and slowly, as if for the last timeand then turned to Sipiagin. 

"If you really want to know my views, my dear brother-in-law, here theyare. I admit that the peasants had a right to arrest me and give me upif they disapproved of what I preached to them. They were free todo what they wanted. I came to them, not they to me. As for thegovernment--if it does send me to Siberia, I'll go without grumbling, although I don't consider myself guilty. The government does its work, defends itself. Are you satisfied?"

Sipiagin wrung his hands in despair. 

"Satisfied!! What a word! That's not the point, and it is not for usto judge the doings of the government. The question, my dear Sergai, is whether you feel" (Sipiagin had decided to touch the tender strings)"the utter unreasonableness, senselessness, of your undertaking and areprepared to repent; and whether I can answer for you at all, my dearSergai. "

Markelov frowned. 

"I have said all I have to say and don't want to repeat it. "

"But don't you repent? Don't you repent?"

"Oh, leave me alone with your repentance! You want to steal into my verysoul? Leave that, at any rate, to me. "

Sipiagin shrugged his shoulders. 

"You were always like that; never would listen to common-sense. You havea splendid chance of getting out of this quietly, honourably. .. 

"Quietly, honourably, " Markelov repeated savagely. "We know those words. They are always flung at a man when he's wanted to do something mean!That is what these fine phrases are for!"

"We sympathise with you, " Sipiagin continued reproachfully, "and youhate us. "

"Fine sympathy! To Siberia and hard labour with us; that is yoursympathy. Oh, let me alone! let me alone! for Heaven's sake!"

Markelov lowered his head. 

He was agitated at heart, though externally calm. He was most of alltortured by the fact that he had been betrayed--and by whom? By Eremy ofGoloplok! That same Eremy whom he had trusted so much! That Mendely thesulky had not followed him, had really not surprised him. Mendely wasdrunk and was consequently afraid. But Eremy! For Markelov, Eremy stoodin some way as the personification of the whole Russian people, andEremy had deceived him! Had he been mistaken about the thing he wasstriving for? Was Kisliakov a liar? And were Vassily Nikolaevitch'sorders all stupid? And all the articles, books, works of socialists andthinkers, every letter of which had seemed to him invincible truth, werethey all nonsense too? Was it really so? And the beautiful simile ofthe abscess awaiting the prick of the lancet--was that, too, nothing morethan a phrase? "No! no!" he whispered to himself, and the colour spreadfaintly over his bronze-coloured face; "no! All these things are true, true. .. Only I am to blame. I did not know how to do things, did notput things in the right way! I ought simply to have given orders, andif anyone had tried to hinder, or object--put a bullet through his head!there is nothing else to be done! He who is against us has no right tolive. Don't they kill spies like dogs, worse than dogs?"

All the details of his capture rose up in Markelov's mind. First thesilence, the leers, then the shrieks from the back of the crowd. .. Someone coming up sideways as if bowing to him, then that sudden rush, when he was knocked down. His own cries of "What are you doing, myboys?" and their shouts, "A belt! A belt! tie him up!" Then the rattlingof his bones. .. Unspeakable rage. .. Filth in his mouth, his nostrils. .. "Shove him in the cart! shove him in the cart!" someone roared withlaughter. . 

"I didn't go about it in the right way. .. " That was the thing thatmost tormented him. That he had fallen under the wheel was his personalmisfortune and had nothing to do with the cause--it was possible to bearthat. .. But Eremy! Eremy!!

While Markelov was standing with his head sunk on his breast, Sipiagindrew the governor aside and began talking to him in undertones. Heflourished two fingers across his forehead, as though he would suggestthat the unfortunate man was not quite right in his head, in order toarouse if not sympathy, at any rate indulgence towards the madman. Thegovernor shrugged his shoulders, opened and shut his eyes, regrettedhis inability to do anything, but made some sort of promise in the end. "Tous les egards. .. Certainement, tous les egards, " the soft, pleasantwords flowed through his scented moustache. "But you know the law, myboy!"

"Of course I do!" Sipiagin responded with a sort of submissive severity. 

While they were talking in the corner, Kollomietzev could scarcely standstill in one spot. He walked up and down, hummed and hawed, showed everysign of impatience. At last he went up to Sipiagin, saying hastily, "Vous oublier l'autre!"

"Oh, yes!" Sipiagin exclaimed loudly. "Merci de me l'avoir rappele. Yourexcellency, " he said, turning to the governor (he purposely addressedhis friend Voldemar in this formal way, so as not to compromise theprestige of authority in Markelov's presence), "I must draw yourattention to the fact that my brother-in-law's mad attempt has certainramifications, and one of these branches, that is to say, one of thesuspected persons, is to be found not very far from here, in this town. I've brought another with me, " he added in a whisper, "he's in thedrawing-room. Have him brought in here. "

"What a man!" the governor thought with admiration, gazing respectfullyat Sipiagin. He gave the order and a minute later Sila Paklin stoodbefore him. 

Paklin bowed very low to the governor as he came in, but catching sightof Markelov before he had time to raise himself, remained as hewas, half bent down, fidgetting with his cap. Markelov looked at himvacantly, but could hardly have recognised him, as he withdrew into hisown thoughts. 

"Is this the branch?" the governor asked, pointing to Paklin with a longwhite finger adorned with a turquoise ring. 

"Oh, no!" Sipiagin exclaimed with a slight smile. "However, who knows!"he added after a moment's thought. "Your excellency, " he said aloud, "the gentleman before you is Mr. Paklin. He comes from St. Petersburgand is a close friend of a certain person who for a time held theposition of tutor in my house and who ran away, taking with him acertain young girl who, I blush to say, is my niece. 

"Ah! oui, oui, " the governor mumbled, shaking his head, "I heard thestory. .. The princess told me--"

Sipiagin raised his voice. 

"That person is a certain Mr. Nejdanov, whom I strongly suspect ofdangerous ideas and theories--"

"Un rouge a tous crins, " Kollomietzev put in. 

"Yes, dangerous ideas and theories, " Sipiagin repeated moreemphatically. "He must certainly know something about this propaganda. He is. .. In hiding, as I have been informed by Mr. Paklin, in themerchant Falyaeva's factory--"

At these words Markelov threw another glance at Paklin and gave a slow, indifferent smile. 

"Excuse me, excuse me, your excellency, " Paklin cried, "and you, Mr. Sipiagin, I never. .. Never--"

"Did you say the merchant Falyaeva?" the governor asked, turning toSipiagin and merely shaking his fingers in Paklin's direction, as muchas to say, "Gently, my good man, gently. " "What is coming over ourrespectable, bearded merchants? Only yesterday one was arrested inconnection with this affair. You may have heard of him--Golushkin, avery rich man. But he's harmless enough. He won't make revolutions; he'sgrovelling on his knees already. "

"The merchant Falyaeva has nothing whatever to do with it, " Sipiaginbegan; "I know nothing of his ideas; I was only talking of his factorywhere Mr. Nejdanov is to be found at this very moment, as Mr. Paklinsays--"

"I said nothing of the kind!" Paklin cried; "you said it yourself!"

"Excuse me, Mr. Paklin, " Sipiagin pronounced with the same relentlessprecision, "I admire that feeling of friendship which prompts you todeny it. " ("A regular Guizot, upon my word!" the governor thought tohimself. ) "But take example by me. Do you suppose that the feeling ofkinship is less strong in me than your feeling of friendship? But thereis another feeling, my dear sir, yet stronger still, which guides allour deeds and actions, and that is duty!"

"Le sentiment du devoir, " Kollomietzev explained. 

Markelov took both the speakers in at a glance. 

"Your excellency!" he exclaimed, "I ask you a second time; please haveme removed out of sight of these babblers. "

But there the governor lost patience a little. 

"Mr. Markelov!" he pronounced severely, "I would advise you, in yourpresent position, to be a little more careful of your tongue, and toshow a little more respect to your elders, especially when they giveexpression to such patriotic sentiments as those you have just heardfrom the lips of your beau-frere! I shall be delighted, my dear Boris, "he added, turning to Sipiagin, "to tell the minister of your nobleaction. But with whom is this Nejdanov staying at the factory?"

Sipiagin frowned. 

"With a certain Mr. Solomin, the chief engineer there, Mr. Paklin says. "

It seemed to afford Sipiagin some peculiar pleasure in tormenting poorSila. He made him pay dearly for the cigar he had given him and theplayful familiarity of his behaviour. 

"This Solomin, " Kollomietzev put in, "is an out-and-out radical andrepublican. It would be a good thing if your excellency were to turnyour attention to him too. "

"Do you know these gentlemen. .. Solomin, and what's his name. . . Nejdanov?" the governor asked Markelov, somewhat authoritatively. 

Markelov distended his nostrils malignantly. 

"Do you know Confucius and Titus Livius, your excellency?"

The governor turned away. 

"Il n'y a pas moyen de causer avec cette homme, " he said, shrugging hisshoulders. "Baron, come here, please. "

The adjutant went up to him quickly and Paklin seized the opportunity oflimping over to Sipiagin. 

"What are you doing?" he asked in a whisper. "Why do you want to ruinyour niece? Why, she's with him, with Nejdanov!"

"I am not ruining any one, my dear sir, " Sipiagin said loudly, "I amonly doing what my conscience bids me do, and--"

"And what your wife, my sister, bids you do; you dare not stand upagainst her!" Markelov exclaimed just as loudly. 

Sipiagin took no notice of the remark; it was too much beneath him!

"Listen, " Paklin continued, trembling all over with agitation, or maybe from timidity; there was a malignant light in his eyes and the tearswere nearly choking him--tears of pity for them and rage at himself;"listen, I told you she was married--it wasn't true, I lied! but theymust get married--and if you prevent it, if the police get there--therewill be a stain on your conscience which you'll never be able to wipeout--and you--"

"If what you have just told me be true, " Sipiagin interrupted himstill more loudly, "then it can only hasten the measures which Ithink necessary to take in this matter; and as for the purity of myconscience, I beg you not to trouble about that, my dear sir. 

"It's been polished, " Markelov put in again; "there is a coat of St. Petersburg varnish upon it; no amount of washing will make it comeclean. You may whisper as much as you like, Mr. Paklin, but you won'tget anything out of it!"

At this point the governor considered it necessary to interfere. 

"I think that you have said enough, gentlemen, " he began, "and I'll askyou, my dear baron, to take Mr. Markelov away. N'est ce pas, Boris, youdon't want him any further--"

Sipiagin made a gesture with his hands. 

"I said everything I could think of!"

"Very well, baron!"

The adjutant came up to Markelov, clinked his spurs, made a horizontalmovement of the hand, as if to request Markelov to make a move; thelatter turned and walked out. Paklin, only in imagination it is true, but with bitter sympathy and pity, shook him by the hand. 

"We'll send some of our men to the factory, " the governor continued;"but you know, Boris, I thought this gentleman" (he moved his chin inPaklin's direction) "told you something about your niece. .. I understoodthat she was there at the factory. Then how. .. "

"It's impossible to arrest her in any case, " Sipiagin remarkedthoughtfully; "perhaps she will think better of it and return. I'llwrite her a note, if I may. "

"Do please. You may be quite sure. .. Nous offrerons le quidam . .. Maisnous sommes galants avec les dames et avec celle-la donc!"

"But you've made no arrangements about this Solomin, " Kollomietzevexclaimed plaintively. He had been on the alert all the while, trying tocatch what the governor and Sipiagin were saying. "I assure you he's theprincipal ringleader! I have a wonderful instinct about these things!"

"Pas trop de zele, my dear Simion Petrovitch, " the governor remarkedwith a smile. "You remember Talleyrand! If it is really as you say thefellow won't escape us. You had better think of your--" the governor puthis hand to his throat significantly. "By the way, " he said, turning toSipiagin, "et ce gaillard-la" (he moved his chin in Paklin's direction). "Qu'enferons nous? He does not appear very dangerous. "

"Let him go, " Sipiagin said in an undertone, and added in German, "Lass'den Lumpen laufen!"

He imagined for some reason that he was quoting from Goethe's Gotz vonBerlichingen. 

"You can go, sir!" the governor said aloud. "We do not require you anylonger. Good day. "

Paklin bowed to the company in general and went out into the streetcompletely crushed and humiliated. Heavens! this contempt had utterlybroken him. 

"Good God! What am I? A coward, a traitor?" he thought, in unutterabledespair. "Oh, no, no! I am an honest man, gentlemen! I have still somemanhood left!"

But who was this familiar figure sitting on the governor's step andlooking at him with a dejected, reproachful glance? It was Markelov'sold servant. He had evidently come to town for his master, and wouldnot for a moment leave the door of his prison. But why did he look soreproachfully at Paklin? He had not betrayed Markelov!

"And why did I go poking my nose into things that did not concern me?Why could I not sit quietly at home? And now it will be said and writtenthat Paklin betrayed them--betrayed his friends to the enemy!" Herecalled the look Markelov had given him and his last words, "Whisper asmuch as you like, Mr. Paklin, but you won't get anything out of it!" andthen these sad, aged, dejected eyes! he thought in desperation. And asit says in the scriptures, he "wept bitterly" as he turned his stepstowards the oasis, to Fomishka and Fimishka and Snandulia. 

XXXVI

WHEN Mariana came out of her room that morning she noticed Nejdanovsitting on the couch fully dressed. His head was resting against onearm, while the other lay weak and helpless on his knee. She went up tohim. 

"Goodmorning, Alexai. Why, you haven't undressed? Haven't you slept? Howpale you are!"

His heavy eyelids rose slowly. 

"No, I haven't. "

"Aren't you well, or is it the after-effects of yesterday?"

Nejdanov shook his head. 

"I couldn't sleep after Solomin went into your room. "

"When?"

"Last night. "

"Alexai! are you jealous? A new idea! What a time to be jealous in! Why, he was only with me a quarter of an hour. We talked about his cousin, the priest, and discussed arrangements for our marriage. "

"I know that he was only with you a short time. I saw him come out. AndI'm not jealous, oh no! But still I couldn't fall asleep after that. "

"But why?"

Nejdanov was silent. 

"I kept thinking. .. Thinking. .. Thinking!"

"Of what?"

"Oh, of you. .. Of him. .. And of myself. "

"And what came of all your thinking?"

"Shall I tell you?"

"Yes, tell me. "

"It seemed to me that I stood in your way--in his. .. And in my own. "

"Mine? His? It's easy to see what you mean by that, though you declareyou're not jealous, but your own?"

"Mariana, there are two men in me and one doesn't let the other live. SoI thought it might be better if both ceased to live. "

"Please don't, Alexai. Why do you want to torment yourself and me? Weought to be considering ways and means of getting away. They won't leaveus in peace you know. "

Nejdanov took her hand caressingly. 

"Sit down beside me, Mariana, and let us talk things over like comradeswhile there is still time. Give me your hand. It would be a good thingfor us to have an explanation, though they say that all explanationsonly lead to further muddle. But you are kind and intelligent and aresure to understand, even the things that I am unable to express. Come, sit down. "

Nejdanov's voice was soft, and a peculiarly affectionate tendernessshone in his eyes as he looked entreatingly at Mariana. 

She sat down beside him readily and took his hand. 

"Thanks, dearest. I won't keep you long. I thought out all the thingsI wanted to say to you last night. Don't think I was too much upset byyesterday's occurrence. I was no doubt extremely ridiculous and ratherdisgusting, but I know you didn't think anything bad of me--you know me. I am not telling the truth exactly when I say that I wasn't upset--I washorribly upset, not because I was brought home drunk, but because I wasconvinced of my utter inefficiency. Not because I could not drink likea real Russian--but in everything! everything! Mariana, I must tell youthat I no longer believe in the cause that united us and on the strengthof which we ran away together. To tell the truth, I had already lostfaith when your enthusiasm set me on fire again. I don't believe in it!I can't believe in it!"

He put his disengaged hand over his eyes and ceased for awhile. Marianadid not utter a single word and sat looking downwards. She felt that hehad told her nothing new. 

"I always thought, " Nejdanov continued, taking his hand away from hiseyes, but not looking at Mariana again, "that I believed in thecause itself, but had no faith in myself, in my own strength, my owncapacities. I used to think that my abilities did not come up to myconvictions. .. But you can't separate these things. And what's the useof deceiving oneself? No--I don't believe in the cause itself. And you, Mariana, do you believe in it?"

Mariana sat up straight and raised her head. 

"Yes, I do, Alexai. I believe in it with all the strength of my soul, and will devote my whole life to it, to the last breath!"

Nejdanov turned towards her and looked at her enviously, with a tenderlight in his eyes. 

"I knew you would answer like that. So you see there is nothing for usto do together; you have severed our tie with one blow. "

Mariana was silent. 

"Take Solomin, for instance, " Nejdanov began again, "though he does notbelieve--"

"What do you mean?"

"It's quite true. He does not believe. .. But that is not necessary forhim; he is moving steadily onwards. A man walking along a road in a towndoes not question the existence of the town--he just goes his way. Thatis Solomin. That is all that's needed. But I. .. I can't go ahead, don'twant to turn back, and am sick of staying where I am. How dare I askanyone to be my companion? You know the old proverb, 'With two peopleto carry the pole, the burden will be easier. ' But if you let go yourend--what becomes of the other?"

"Alexai, " Mariana began irresolutely, "I think you exaggerate. Do we notlove each other?"

Nejdanov gave a deep sigh. 

"Mariana. .. I bow down before you. .. You pity me, and each of us hasimplicit faith in the other's honesty--that is our position. But thereis no love between us. "

"Stop, Alexai! what are you saying? The police may come for us today. .. We must go away together and not part--"

"And get Father Zosim to marry us at Solomin's suggestion. I know thatyou merely look upon our marriage as a kind of passport--a means ofavoiding any difficulties with the police. .. But still it will bind usto some extent; necessitate our living together and all that. Besides italways presupposes a desire to live together. "

"What do you mean, Alexai? You don't intend staying here?"

Nejdanov said hesitatingly. The word "yes" nearly escaped his lips, buthe recollected himself in time. 

"Then you are going to a different place--not where I am going?"

Nejdanov pressed her hand which still lay in his own. 

"It would indeed be vile to leave you without a supporter, without aprotector, but I won't do that, as bad as I may be. You shall have aprotector--rest assured. "

Mariana bent down towards him and, putting her face close against his, looked anxiously into his eyes, as though trying to penetrate to hisvery soul. 

"What is the matter, Alexai? What have you on your mind? Tell me . .. You frighten me. Your words are so strange and enigmatical . .. And yourface! I have never seen your face like that!"

Nejdanov put her from him gently and kissed her hand tenderly. This timeshe made no resistance and did not laugh, but sat still looking at himanxiously. 

"Don't be alarmed, dear. There is nothing strange in it. They sayMarkelov was beaten by the peasants; he felt their blows--they crushedhis ribs. They did not beat me, they even drank with me--drankmy health--but they crushed my soul more completely than they didMarkelov's ribs. I was born out of joint, wanted to set myself right, and have made matters worse. That is what you notice in my face. "

"Alexai, " Mariana said slowly, "it would be very wrong of you not to befrank with me. "

He clenched his hands. 

"Mariana, my whole being is laid bare before you, and whatever I mightdo, I tell you beforehand, nothing will really surprise you; nothingwhatever!"

Mariana wanted to ask him what he meant, but at that moment Solominentered the room. 

His movements were sharper and more rapid than usual. His eyes were halfclosed, his lips compressed, the whole of his face wore a drier, harder, somewhat rougher expression. 

"My dear friends, " he began, "I must ask you not to waste time, butprepare yourselves as soon as possible. You must be ready in an hour. You have to go through the marriage ceremony. There is no news ofPaklin. His horses were detained for a time at Arjanov and then sentback. He has been kept there. They've no doubt brought him to town bythis time. I don't think he would betray us, but he might let things outunwittingly. Besides, they might have guessed from the horses. My cousinhas been informed of your coming. Pavel will go with you. He will be awitness. "

"And you. .. And you?" Nejdanov asked. "Aren't you going? I see you'redressed for the road, " he added, indicating Solomin's high boots withhis eyes. 

"Oh, I only put them on. .. Because it's rather muddy outside. "

"But you won't be held responsible for us, will you?"

"I hardly think so. .. In any case. .. That's my affair. So you'll beready in an hour. Mariana, I believe Tatiana wants to see you. She hassomething prepared for you. "

"Oh, yes! I wanted to see her too. .. " Mariana turned to the door. 

A peculiar expression of fear, despair, spread itself over Nejdanov'sface. 

"Mariana, you're not going?" he asked in a frightened tone of voice. 

She stood still. 

"I'll be back in half an hour. It won't take me long to pack. "

"Come here, close to me, Mariana. "

"Certainly, but what for?"

"I wanted to have one more look at you. " He looked at her intently. "Goodbye, goodbye, Mariana!"

She seemed bewildered. 

"Why. .. What nonsense I'm talking! You'll be back in half an hour, won'tyou, eh?"

"Of course--"

"Never mind; forgive me, dear. My brain is in a whirl from lack ofsleep. I must begin. .. Packing, too. "

Mariana went out of the room and Solomin was about to follow her whenNejdanov stopped him. 

"Solomin!"

"What is it?"

"Give me your hand. I must thank you for your kindness and hospitality. "

Solomin smiled. 

"What an idea!" He extended his hand. 

"There's another thing I wished to say, " Nejdanov continued. "Supposinganything were to happen to me, may I hope that you won't abandonMariana?"

"Your future wife?

"Yes. .. Mariana!"

"I don't think anything is likely to happen to you, but you may set yourmind at rest. Mariana is just as dear to me as she is to you. "

"Oh, I knew it. .. Knew it, knew it! I'm so glad! thanks. So in an hour?"

"In an hour. "

"I shall be ready. Goodbye, my friend!"

Solomin went out and caught Mariana up on the staircase. He had intendedsaying something to her about Nejdanov, but refrained from doing so. AndMariana guessed that he wished to say something about him and that hecould not. She, too, was silent. 

XXXVII

DIRECTLY Solomin had gone, Nejdanov jumped up from the couch, walkedup and down the room several times, then stood still in the middle ina sort of stony indecision. Suddenly he threw off his "masquerade"costume, kicked it into a corner of the room, and put on his ownclothes. He then went up to the little three-legged table, pulled out ofa drawer two sealed letters and some other object which he thrust intohis pocket; the letters he left on the table. Then he crouched downbefore the stove and opened the little door. A whole heap of ashes layinside. This was all that remained of Nejdanov's papers, of his sacredbook of verses . .. He had burned them all in the night. Leaning againstone side of the stove was Mariana's portrait that Markelov had givenhim. He had evidently not had the heart to burn that too! He took it outcarefully and put in on the table beside the two letters. 

Then, with a quick resolute movement, he put on his cap and walkedtowards the door. But suddenly he stopped, turned back, and went intoMariana's room. There, he stood still for a moment, gazed round, thenapproaching her narrow little bed, bent down and with one stifled sobpressed his lips to the foot of the bed. He then jumped up, thrust hiscap over his forehead, and rushed out. Without meeting anyone in thecorridor, on the stairs, or down below, he darted out into the garden. It was a grey day, with a low-hanging sky and a damp breeze that blew inwaves over the tops of the grass and made the trees rustle. A whiff ofcoal, tar, and tallow was borne along from the yard, but the noise andrattling in the factory was fainter than usual at that time of day. Nejdanov looked round sharply to see if anyone was about and madestraight for the old apple tree that had first attracted his attentionwhen he had looked out of the little window of his room on the day ofhis arrival. The whole of its trunk was evergrown with dry moss, itsbare, rugged branches, sparsely covered with reddish leaves, rosecrookedly, like some old arms held up in supplication. Nejdanov steppedfirmly on to the dark soil beneath the tree and pulled out the object hehad taken from the table drawer. He looked up intently at the windows ofthe little house. "If somebody were to see me now, perhaps I wouldn'tdo it, " he thought. But no human being was to be seen anywhere--everyoneseemed dead or turned away from him, leaving him to the mercy of fate. Only the muffled hum and roar of the factory betrayed any signs of life;and overhead a fine, keen, chilly rain began falling. 

Nejdanov gazed up through the crooked branches of the tree underwhich he was standing at the grey, cloudy sky looking down upon him sounfeelingly. He yawned and lay down. "There's nothing else to be done. I can't go back to St. Petersburg, to prison, " he thought. A kind ofpleasant heaviness spread all over his body. . . He threw away his cap, took up the revolver, and pulled the trigger. 

Something struck him instantly, but with no very great violence. . . Hewas lying on his back trying to make out what had happened to him andhow it was that he had just seen Tatiana. He tried to call her. .. Buta peculiar numbness had taken possession of him and curious dark greenspots were whirling about all over him--in his eyes, over his head, inhis brain--and some frightfully heavy, dull weight seemed to press himto the earth forever. 

Nejdanov did really get a glimpse of Tatiana. At the moment when hepulled the trigger she had looked out of a window and caught sight ofhim standing under the tree. She had hardly time to ask herself what hewas doing there in the rain without a hat, when he rolled to the groundlike a sheaf of corn. She did not hear the shot--it was very faint--butinstantly felt that something was amiss and rushed out into the garden. She came up to Nejdanov, breathless. 

"Alexai Dmitritch! What is the matter with you?"

But a darkness had already descended upon him. Tatiana bent over andnoticed blood. .. 

"Pavel!" she shouted at the top of her voice, "Pavel!"

A minute or two later, Mariana, Solomin, Pavel, and two workmen were inthe garden. They lifted him instantly, carried him into the house, andlaid him on the same couch on which he had passed his last night. 

He lay on his back with half-closed eyes, his face blue all over. Therewas a rattling in his throat, and every now and again he gave a chokingsob. Life had not yet left him. Mariana and Solomin were standing oneither side of him, almost as pale as he was himself. They both feltcrushed, stunned, especially Mariana--but they were not surprised. "Howdid we not foresee this?" they asked themselves, but it seemed to themthat they had foreseen it all along. When he said to Mariana, "WhateverI do, I tell you beforehand, nothing will really surprise you, " and whenhe had spoken of the two men in him that would not let each other live, had she not felt a kind of vague presentiment? Then why had she ignoredit? Why was it she did not now dare to look at Solomin, as though hewere her accomplice. .. As though he, too, were conscience-stricken? Whywas it that her unutterable, despairing pity for Nejdanov was mixed witha feeling of horror, dread, and shame? Perhaps she could have saved him?Why are they both standing there, not daring to pronounce a word, hardlydaring to breathe-waiting. .. For what? "Oh, God!"

Solomin sent for a doctor, though there was no hope. Tatiana bathedNejdanov's head with cold water and vinegar and laid a cold sponge onthe small, dark wound, now free from blood. Suddenly the rattling inNejdanov's throat ceased and he stirred a little. 

"He is coming to himself, " Solomin whispered. Mariana dropped down onher knees before him. Nejdanov glanced at her. . Up until then his eyeshad borne that fixed, far-away look of the dying. 

"I am. .. Still alive, " he pronounced scarcely audible. "I couldn't evendo this properly. .. I am detaining you. "

"Aliosha!" Mariana sobbed out. 

"It won't. .. Be long. .. . Do you. .. Remember. .. Mariana . .. My poem?. .. Surround me with flowers. .. But where. .. Are the. .. Flowers? Nevermind. .. So long as you. .. Are here. .. There in. .. My letter. .. "

He suddenly shuddered. 

"Ah! here it comes. .. Take. .. Each other's hands. .. Before me. .. Quickly. .. Take. .. "

Solomin seized Mariana's hand. Her head lay on the couch, facedownwards, close to the wound. Solomin, dark as night, held himselfseverely erect. 

"That's right. .. That's. .. "

Nejdanov broke out into sobs again--strange unusual sobs. .. His breastrose, his sides heaved. 

He tried to lay his hand on their united ones, but it fell back dead. 

"He is passing away, " Tatiana whispered as she stood at the door, andbegan crossing herself. 

His sobs grew briefer, fewer. .. He still searched around for Marianawith his eyes, but a menacing white film was spreading over them. 

"That's right, " were his last words. 

He had breathed his last. .. And the clasped hands of Mariana and Solominstill lay upon his breast. 

The following are the contents of the two letters he had left. Oneconsisting only of a few lines, was addressed to Silin:

"Goodbye, my dear friend, goodbye! When this reaches you, I shall be nomore. Don't ask why or wherefore, and don't grieve; be sure that Iam better off now. Take up our immortal Pushkin and read over thedescription of the death of Lensky in 'Yevgenia Onegin. ' Do youremember? The windows are white-washed. The mistress has gone--that'sall. There is nothing more for me to say. Were I to say all I wanted to, it would take up too much time. But I could not leave this world withouttelling you, or you might have gone on thinking of me as living and Ishould have put a stain upon our friendship. Goodbye; live well. --Yourfriend, A. N. "

The other letter, somewhat longer, was addressed to Solomin and Mariana. It began thus:

"MY DEAR CHILDREN" (immediately after these words there was a break, asif something had been scratched or smeared out, as if tears had fallenupon it), --"It may seem strange to you that I should address you in thisway--I am almost a child myself and you, Solomin, are older than I am. But I am about to die--and standing as I do at the end of my life, Ilook upon myself as an old man. I have wronged you both, especially you, Mariana, by causing you so much grief and pain (I know you will grieve, Mariana) and giving you so much anxiety. But what could I do? I couldthink of no other way out. I could not simplify myself, so the onlything left for me to do was to blot myself out altogether. 

"Mariana, I would have been a burden to you and to myself. You aregenerous, you would have borne the burden gladly, as a new sacrifice, but I have no right to demand such a sacrifice of you--you have a higherand better work before you. My children, let me unite you as it werefrom the grave. You will live happily together. Mariana, I know you willcome to love Solomin--and he. . . He loved you from the moment he firstsaw you at the Sipiagins. It was no secret to me, although we ran awaya few days later. Ah! that glorious morning! how exquisite and fresh andyoung it was! It comes back to me now as a token, a symbol of your lifetogether--your life and his--and I by the merest chance happened tobe in his place. But enough! I don't want to complain, I only wantto justify myself. Some very sorrowful moments are in store for youtomorrow. But what could I do? There was no other alternative. Goodbye, Mariana, my dear good girl! Goodbye, Solomin! I leave her in yourcharge. Be happy together; live for the sake of others. And you, Mariana, think of me only when you are happy. Think of me as a man whohad also some good in him, but for whom it was better to die than tolive. Did I really love you? I don't know, dear friend. But I do knowthat I never loved anyone more than you, and that it would have beenmore terrible for me to die had I not that feeling for you to carryaway with me to the grave. Mariana, if you ever come across a MissMashurina--Solomin knows her, and by the way, I think you've met hertoo--tell her that I thought of her with gratitude just before the end. She will understand. But I must tear myself away at last. I looked outof the window just now and saw a lovely star amidst the swiftly movingclouds. No matter how quickly they chased one another, they could nothide it from view. That star reminded me of you, Mariana. At this momentyou are asleep in the next room, unsuspecting. .. I went to your door, listened, and fancied I heard your pure, calm breathing. . . Goodbye!goodbye! goodbye, my children, my friends!--Yours, A. 

"Dear me! how is it that in my final letter I made no mention of ourgreat cause? I suppose lying is of no use when you're on the point ofdeath. Forgive this postscript, Mariana. .. The falsehood lies in me, notin the thing in which you believe! One more word. You might have thoughtperhaps, Mariana, that I put an end to myself merely because I wasafraid of going to prison, but believe me that is not true. There isnothing terrible about going to prison in itself, but being shut upthere for a cause in which you have no faith is unthinkable. It wasnot fear of prison that drove me to this, Mariana. Goodbye! goodbye! mydear, pure girl. "

Mariana and Solomin each read the letter in turn. She then put herown portrait and the two letters into her pocket and remained standingmotionless. 

"Let us go, Mariana; everything is ready. We must fulfil his wish, "Solomin said to her. 

Mariana drew near to Nejdanov and pressed her lips against his foreheadwhich was already turning cold. 

"Come, " she said, turning to Solomin. They went out, hand in hand. 

When the police arrived at the factory a few hours later, they foundNejdanov's corpse. Tatiana had laid out the body, put a white pillowunder his head, crossed his arms, and even placed a bunch of flowerson a little table beside him. Pavel, who had been given all the needfulinstructions, received the police officers with the greatest respect andas great a contempt, so that those worthies were not quite sure whetherto thank or arrest him. He gave them all the details of the suicide, regaled them with Swiss cheese and Madeira, but as for the whereaboutsof Vassily Fedotitch and the young lady, he knew nothing of that. He wasmost effusive in his assurances that Vassily Fedotitch was never awayfor long at a time on account of his work, that he was sure to be backeither today or tomorrow, and that he would let them know as soon as hearrived. They might depend on him!

So the officers went away no wiser than they had come, leaving a guardin charge of the body and promising to send a coroner. 

XXXVIII

Two days after these events, a cart drove up the courtyard of the worthyFather Zosim, containing a man and woman who are already known to thereader. The following day they were legally married. Soon afterwardsthey disappeared, and the good father never regretted what he had done. Solomin had left a letter in Pavel's charge, addressed to the proprietorof the factory, giving a full statement of the condition of the business(it turned out most flourishing) and asking for three months' leave. Theletter was dated two days before Nejdanov's death, from which might begathered that Solomin had considered it necessary even then to go awaywith him and Mariana and hide for a time. Nothing was revealed by theinquiry held over the suicide. The body was buried. Sipiagin gave upsearching for his niece. 

Nine months later Markelov was tried. At the trial he was just as calmas he had been at the governor's. He carried himself with dignity, butwas rather depressed. His habitual hardness had toned down somewhat, notfrom any cowardice; a nobler element had been at work. He did not defendhimself, did not regret what he had done, blamed no one, and mentionedno names. His emaciated face with the lustreless eyes retained but oneexpression: submission to his fate and firmness. His brief, direct, truthful answers aroused in his very judges a feeling akin to pity. Eventhe peasants who had seized him and were giving evidence againsthim shared this feeling and spoke of him as a good, simple-heartedgentleman. But his guilt could not possibly be passed over; he could notescape punishment, and he himself seemed to look upon it as his due. Ofhis few accomplices, Mashurina disappeared for a time. Ostrodumov waskilled by a shopkeeper he was inciting to revolt, who had struck himan "awkward" blow. Golushkin, in consideration of his penitence (he wasnearly frightened out of his wits), was let off lightly. Kisliakov waskept under arrest for about a month, after which he was released andeven allowed to continue "galloping" from province of province. Nejdanovdied, Solomin was under suspicion, but for lack of sufficient evidencewas left in peace. (He did not, however, avoid trial and appeared whenwanted. ) Mariana was not even mentioned; Paklin came off splendidly;indeed no notice was taken of him. 

A year and a half had gone by--it was the winter of 1870. In St. Petersburg--the very same St. Petersburg where the chamberlain Sipiagin, now a privy councillor, was beginning to play such an important part;where his wife patronised the arts, gave musical evenings, and foundedcharitable cook-shops; where Kollomietzev was considered one of the mosthopeful members of the ministerial department--a little man was limpingalong one of the streets of the Vassily island, attired in a shabby coatwith a catskin collar. This was no other than our old friend Paklin. He had changed a great deal since we last saw him. On his temples a fewstrands of silvery hair peeped out from under his fur cap. A tall, stoutwoman, closely muffled in a dark cloth coat, was coming towards him onthe pavement. Paklin looked at her indifferently and passed on. Suddenlyhe stopped, threw up his arms as though struck by something, turned backquickly, and overtaking her peeped under her hat. 

"Mashurina!" he exclaimed in an undertone. 

The lady looked at him haughtily and walked on without saying a word. 

"Dear Mashurina, I recognised you at once, " Paklin continued, hobblingalong beside her; "don't be afraid, I won't give you away! I am so gladto see you! I'm Paklin, Sila Paklin, you know, Nejdanov's friend. Docome home with me. I live quite near here. Do come!"

"Io sono contessa Rocca di Santo Fiume!" the lady said softly, but in awonderfully pure Russian accent. 

"Contessa! nonsense! Do come in and let us talk about old times--"

"Where do you live?" the Italian countess asked suddenly in Russian. "I'm in a hurry. "

"In this very street; in that grey three-storied house over there. It'sso nice of you not to have snubbed me! Give me your hand, come on. Haveyou been here long? How do you come to be a countess? Have you marriedan Italian count?"

Mashurina had not married an Italian count. She had been provided witha passport made out in the name of a certain Countess Rocca di SantoFiume, who had died a short time ago, and had come quite calmly toRussia, though she did not know a single word of Italian and had themost typical of Russian faces. 

Paklin brought her to his humble little lodging. His humpbacked sisterwho shared it with him came out to greet them from behind the partitiondividing the kitchen from the passage. 

"Here, Snapotchka, " he said, "let me introduce you to a great friend ofmine. We should like some tea as soon as you can get it. "

Mashurina, who would on no account have come had not Paklin mentionedNejdanov, bowed, then taking off her hat and passing her masculine handthrough her closely cropped hair, sat down in silence. She had scarcelychanged at all; even her dress was the same she had worn two years ago;only her eyes wore a fixed, sad expression, giving a pathetic look toher usually hard face. Snandulia went out for the samovar, while Paklinsat down opposite Mashurina and stroked her knee sympathetically. Hishead dropped on his breast, he could not speak from choking, and thetears glistened in his eyes. Mashurina sat erect and motionless, gazingseverely to one side. 

"Those were times!" Paklin began at last. "As I look at you everythingcomes back to me, the living and the dead. Even my little poll-parrotsare no more. .. I don't think you knew them, by the way. They both diedon the same day, as I always predicted they would. And Nejdanov. .. PoorNejdanov! I suppose you know--"

"Yes, I know, " Mashurina interrupted him, still looking away. 

"And do you know about Ostrodumov too?"

Mashurina merely nodded her head. She wanted him to go on talking aboutNejdanov, but could not bring herself to ask him. He understood her, however. 

"I was told that he mentioned you in the letter he left. Was it true?

"Yes, " Mashurina replied after a pause. 

"What a splendid chap he was! He didn't fall into the right rut somehow. He was about as fitted to be a revolutionist as I am! Do you know whathe really was? The idealist of realism. Do you understand me?"

Mashurina flung him a rapid glance. She did not understand him and didnot want to understand him. It seemed to her impertinent that he shouldcompare himself to Nejdanov. "Let him brag!" she thought, though he wasnot bragging at all, but rather depreciating himself, according to hisown ideas. 

"Some fellow called Silin sought me out; Nejdanov, it seems, had lefta letter for him too. Well, he wanted to know if Alexai had left anypapers, but we hunted through all his things and found nothing. Hemust have burned everything, even his poems. Did you know that he wroteverses? I'm sorry they were destroyed; there must have been some goodthings among them. They all vanished with him--became lost in thegeneral whirl, dead and gone for ever. Nothing was left except thememories of his friends--until they, too, vanish in their turn!"

Paklin ceased. 

"Do you remember the Sipiagins?" he began again; "those respectable, patronising, loathsome swells are now at the very height of power andglory. " Mashurina, of course, did not remember the Sipiagins, but Paklinhated them so much that he could not keep from abusing them on everypossible occasion. "They say there's such a high tone in their house!they're always talking about virtue! It's a bad sign, I think. Remindsme rather of an over-scented sick room. There must be some bad smell toconceal. Poor Alexai! It was they who ruined him!"

"And what is Solomin doing?" Mashurina asked. She had suddenly ceasedwishing to hear Paklin talk about him. 

"Solomin!" Paklin exclaimed. "He's a clever chap! turned out well too. He's left the old factory and taken all the best men with him. There wasone fellow there called Pavel--could do anything; he's taken him alongtoo. They say he has a small factory of his own now, somewhere nearPerm, run on cooperative lines. He's all right! he'll stick to anythinghe undertakes. Got some grit in him! His strength lies in the fact thathe doesn't attempt to cure all the social ills with one blow. What arum set we are to be sure, we Russians! We sit down quietly and wait forsomething or someone to come along and cure us all at once; heal all ourwounds, pull out all our diseases, like a bad tooth. But who or whatis to work this magic spell, Darwinism, the land, the ArchbishopPerepentiev, a foreign war, we don't know and don't care, but we musthave our tooth pulled out for us! It's nothing but mere idleness, sluggishness, want of thinking. Solomin, on the other hand, isdifferent; he doesn't go in for pulling teeth--he knows what he'sabout!"

Mashurina gave an impatient wave of the hand, as though she wished todismiss the subject. 

"And that girl, " she began, "I forget her name. .. The one who ran awaywith Nejdanov--what became of her?"

"Mariana? She's Solomin's wife now. They married over a year ago. It wasmerely for the sake of formality at first, but now they say she reallyis his wife. "

Mashurina gave another impatient gesture. There was a time when she wasjealous of Mariana, but now she was indignant with her for having beenfalse to Nejdanov's memory. 

"I suppose they have a baby by now, " she said in an offhanded tone. 

"I really don't know. But where are you off to?" Paklin asked, seeingthat she had taken up her hat. "Do stay a little longer; my sister willbring us some tea directly. "

It was not so much that he wanted Mashurina to stay, as that hecould not let an opportunity slip by of giving utterance to what hadaccumulated and was boiling over in his breast. Since his return to St. Petersburg he had seen very little of people, especially of the youngergeneration. The Nejdanov affair had scared him; he grew more cautious, avoided society, and the young generation on their side looked upon himwith suspicion. Once someone had even called him a traitor to his face. 

As he was not fond of associating with the elder generation, itsometimes fell to his lot to be silent for weeks. To his sister hecould not speak out freely, not because he considered her too stupidto understand him--oh, no! he had the highest opinion of herintelligence--but as soon as he began letting off some of his petfireworks she would look at him with those sad reproachful eyes of hers, making him feel quite ashamed. And really, how is a man to go throughlife without letting off just a few squibs every now and again? So lifein St. Petersburg became insupportable to Paklin and he longed to removeto Moscow. Speculations of all sorts--ideas, fancies, and sarcasms--werestored up in him like water in a closed mill. The floodgates could notbe opened and the water grew stagnant. With the appearance of Mashurinathe gates opened wide, and all his pent-up ideas came pouring out with arush. He talked about St. Petersburg, St. Petersburg life, the whole ofRussia. No one was spared! Mashurina was very little interested inall this, but she did not contradict or interrupt, and that was all hewanted of her. 

"Yes, " he began, "a fine time we are living in, I can assure you!Society in a state of absolute stagnation; everyone bored to death! Asfor literature, it's been reduced to a complete vacuum swept clean! Takecriticism for example. If a promising young critic has to say, 'It'snatural for a hen to lay eggs, ' it takes him at least twenty whole pagesto expound this mighty truth, and even then he doesn't quite manageit! They're as puffed up as feather-beds, these fine gentlemen, assoft-soapy as can be, and are always in raptures over the merestcommonplaces! As for science, ha, ha, ha! we too have our learned Kant![The word kant in Russian means a kind of braid or piping. ] on thecollars of our engineers! And it's no better in art! You go to a concertand listen to our national singer Agremantsky. Everyone is raving abouthim. But he has no more voice than a cat! Even Skoropikin, you know, our immortal Aristarchus, rings his praises. 'Here is something, 'he declares, 'quite unlike Western art!' Then he raves about ourinsignificant painters too! 'At one time, I bowed down before Europeand the Italians, ' he says, 'but I've heard Rossini and seen Raphaeland confess I was not at all impressed. ' And our young men just go aboutrepeating what he says and feel quite satisfied with themselves. Andmeanwhile the people are dying of hunger, crushed down by taxes. Theonly reform that has been accomplished is that the men have taken towearing caps and the women have left off their head-dresses! And thepoverty! the drunkenness! the usury!"

But at this point Mashurina yawned and Paklin saw that he must changethe subject. 

"You haven't told me yet, " he said, turning to her, "where you'vebeen these two years; when you came back, what you've been doing withyourself, and how you managed to turn into an Italian countess--"

"There is no need for you to know all that, " she put in. "It can hardlyhave any interest for you now. You see, you are no longer of our camp. "

Paklin felt a pang and gave a forced laugh to hide his confusion. 

"As you please, " he said; "I know I'm regarded as out-of-date by thepresent generation, and really I can hardly count myself. . . Of thoseranks--" He did not finish the sentence. "Here comes Snapotchka with thetea. Take a cup with us and stay a little longer. Perhaps I may tell yousomething of interest to you. "

Mashurina took a cup of tea and began sipping it with a lump of sugar inher mouth. 

Paklin laughed heartily. 

"It's a good thing the police are not here to see an Italian countess--"

"Rocca di Santo Fiume, " Mashurina put in solemnly, sipping the hot tea. 

"Contessa Rocca di Santo Fiume!" Paklin repeated after her; "anddrinking her tea in the typical Russian way! That's rather suspicious, you know! The police would be on the alert in an instant. "

"Some fellow in uniform bothered me when I was abroad, " Mashurinaremarked. "He kept on asking so many questions until I couldn't stand itany longer. 'Leave me alone, for heaven's sake!' I said to him at last. "

"In Italian?

"Oh no, in Russian. "

"And what did he do?"

"Went away, of course. "

"Bravo!" Paklin exclaimed. "Well, countess, have another cup. There isjust one other thing I wanted to say to you. It seemed to me that youexpressed yourself rather contemptuously of Solomin. But I tell you thatpeople like him are the real men! It's difficult to understand them atfirst, but, believe me, they're the real men. The future is in theirhands. They are not heroes, not even 'heroes of labour' as some crankof an American, or Englishman, called them in a book he wrote for theedification of us heathens, but they are robust, strong, dull men of thepeople. They are exactly what we want just now. You have only to look atSolomin. A head as clear as the day and a body as strong as an ox. Isn'tthat a wonder in itself? Why, any man with us in Russia who has had anybrains, or feelings, or a conscience, has always been a physical wreck. Solomin's heart aches just as ours does; he hates the same things thatwe hate, but his nerves are of iron and his body is under his fullcontrol. He's a splendid man, I tell you! Why, think of it! here isa man with ideals, and no nonsense about him; educated and from thepeople, simple, yet all there. .. What more do you want?

"It's of no consequence, " Paklin continued, working himself up more andmore, without noticing that Mashurina had long ago ceased listening tohim and was looking away somewhere, "it's of no consequence that Russiais now full of all sorts of queer people, fanatics, officials, generalsplain and decorated, Epicureans, imitators, all manner of cranks. I onceknew a lady, a certain Havrona Prishtekov, who, one fine day, suddenlyturned a legitimist and assured everybody that when she died they hadonly to open her body and the name of Henry V. Would be found engravenon her heart! All these people do not count, my dear lady; our truesalvation lies with the Solomins, the dull, plain, but wise Solomins!Remember that I say this to you in the winter of 1870, when Germany ispreparing to crush France--"

"Silishka, " Snandulia's soft voice was heard from behind Paklin, "Ithink in your speculations about the future you have quite forgottenour religion and its influence. And besides, " she added hastily, "MissMashurina is not listening to you. You had much better offer her somemore tea. "

Paklin pulled himself up. 

"Why, of course. .. Do have some more tea. "

But Mashurina fixed her dark eyes upon him and said pensively:

"You don't happen to have any letter of Nejdanov s. .. Or hisphotograph?"

"I have a photograph and quite a good one too. I believe it's in thetable drawer. I'll get it in a minute. "

He began rummaging about in the drawer, while Snandulia went up toMashurina and with a long, intent look full of sympathy, clasped herhand like a comrade. 

"Here it is!" Paklin exclaimed and handed her the photograph. 

Mashurina thrust it into her pocket quickly, scarcely glancing at it, and without a word of thanks, flushing bright red, she put on her hatand made for the door. 

"Are you going?" Paklin asked. "Where do you live? You might tell methat at any rate. "

"Wherever I happen to be. "

"I understand. You don't want me to know. Tell me at least, are youstill working under Vassily Nikolaevitch?"

"What does it matter to you? Or someone else, perhaps Sidor Sidoritch?"Mashurina did not reply. 

"Or is your director some anonymous person?" Mashurina had alreadystepped across the threshold. "Perhaps it is someone anonymous!"

She slammed the door. 

Paklin stood for a long time motionless before this closed door. 

"Anonymous Russia!" he said at last.