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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Created Legend, by Feodor Sologub
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Created Legend
+
+Author: Feodor Sologub
+
+Translator: John Cournos
+
+
+Release Date: February, 2005 [EBook #7480]
+This file was first posted on May 8, 2003
+Last Updated: May 19, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CREATED LEGEND ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Eric Eldred, Camilla Venezuela and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE
+CREATED LEGEND
+
+
+BY FEODOR SOLOGUB
+
+
+AUTHORIZED
+TRANSLATION FROM
+THE RUSSIAN BY
+JOHN COURNOS
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+  _"For there is nothing either good or
+  bad but thinking makes it so."_
+  SHAKESPEARE
+
+  _"To the impure all things are impure."_
+  NIETZSCHE
+
+
+_In "The Little Demon" Sologub has shown us how the evil within us
+peering out through our imagination makes all the world seem evil to
+us. In "The Created Legend," feeling perhaps the need of reacting from
+his morose creation Peredonov, the author has set himself the task of
+showing the reverse of the picture: how the imagination, no longer
+warped, but sensitized with beauty, is capable of creating a world of
+its own, legendary yet none the less real for the legend._
+
+_The Russian title of the book is more descriptive of the author's
+intentions than an English translation will permit it to be.
+"Tvorimaya Legenda" actually means "The legend in the course of
+creation." The legend that Sologub has in mind is the active,
+eternally changing process of life, orderly and structural in spite of
+the external confusion. The author makes an effort to bring order out
+of apparent chaos by stripping life of its complex modern detail and
+reducing it to a few significant symbols, as in a rather more subtle
+"morality play." The modern novel is perhaps over-psychologized;
+eternal truths and eternal passions are perhaps too often lost sight
+of under the mass of unnecessary naturalistic detail._
+
+_In this novel life passes by the author as a kind of dream, a dream
+within that nightmare Reality, a legend within that amorphousness
+called Life. And the nightmare and the dream, like a sensitive
+individual's ideas of the world as it is and as it ought to be,
+alternate here like moods. The author has expressed this
+changeableness of mood curiously by alternating a crudely realistic,
+deliberately naive, sometimes journalese style with an extremely
+decorative, lyrical manner--this taxing the translator to the utmost
+in view of the urgency to translate the mood as well as the ideas._
+
+_As a background we have "the abortive revolution of_ 1905."
+_This novel is an emotional statement of those "nightmarish" days.
+Against this rather hazy, tempestuous background we have the sharply
+outlined portrait of an individual, a poet, containing a world within
+himself, a more radiant and orderly world than the one which his eyes
+look upon outwardly. It is this "inner vision" which permits him to
+see the legend in the outer chaos, and we read in this book of his
+efforts to disentangle the thread of this legend by the establishment
+of a kind of Hellenic Utopia._
+
+_It is not alone the poet who is capable of creating his legend, but
+any one who refuses to be subject to the whims of fate and to serve
+the goddess of chance and chaos, "the prodigal scatterer of episodes"
+(Aisa). The tragic thing about this philosophy, as one Russian critic
+points out, is that even the definite settling of the question does
+not assure one complete consolation, for, like Ivan Karamazov in
+Dostoyevsky's "Brothers Karamazov," one may say: "I do not accept God,
+I do not accept the world created by Him, God's world; I simply return
+Him the ticket most respectfully." Still it is with some such definite
+decision that he enters the kingdom of Ananke, the goddess of
+Necessity. Readers of "The Little Demon" have seen a practical
+illustration of the two forces in Peredonov and Liudmilla. Peredonov
+was petty and pitiful, "a little demon"--nevertheless he too "strove
+towards the truth in common with all conscious life, and this striving
+tormented him. He himself did not understand that he, like all men,
+was striving towards the truth, and that was why he had that confused
+unrest. He could not find his truth, and he became entangled, and was
+perishing." Liudmilla, however, had saved herself from the pettiness
+and provinciality of this "unclean, impotent earth" by creating a new
+world for herself. She, at any rate, had her beautiful legend, knew
+her truth.
+
+Elisaveta, of "The Created Legend," also belongs to the Kingdom of
+Ananke. She finds her salvation in "the dream of liberation," the
+dream dreamt by all good Russians and made an active creative legend
+by the efforts to realize it in life. Being an antithesis to the
+analytical novel, this novel treats of sex, not as a psychology but as
+a philosophy; nuances are avoided, the feminine figure becomes a
+symbol, drawn, not photographically but broadly, in fluent, even
+exaggerated Botticellian outlines. I might go even further and say
+that as a symbol of Russian revolution the figure of Elisaveta is
+perhaps meant to stand out with the statuesque boldness of the Victory
+of Samothrace. The feminine figure, nude or thinly draped, has been
+used as symbol for ideas in the plastic arts ever since art was born;
+our puritans have never been faced with the problem of what some of
+the mythological divinities in stone would do if they should suddenly
+come to life, become human. Yet it is a problem of this sort that
+Sologub has attempted to solve--the problem of the gods in exile. As
+for Elisaveta, Sologub goes indeed the length of describing her
+previous existence in the second of the series of novels that go under
+the general head of "The Created Legend"; she was then the Queen
+Ortruda of some beautiful isles in the Mediterranean, and she is fated
+to carry her queenliness into her later life._
+
+_"The Little Demon" is Sologub's "Inferno," "The Created Legend" his
+"Paradiso." And just as the problem there was the abuse of bodily
+beauty, so it is here the idealism of bodily beauty. It is natural
+that the over-draping of our bodies, the supposed symbol of our
+modesty, but in reality an evidence of our lust, should form part of
+his thesis. But M. Anatole France has already pointed out brilliantly
+in "Penguin Island" how immodesty originated in the invention of
+clothes._
+
+_The conclusion is quite clear: it is beauty that can save the
+world, it is our eyes and our imaginations behind our eyes that can
+remodel the world into "a chaste dream." Like Don Quixote, whom
+Sologub loves, we must see Dulcinea in our Aldonza, and our persistent
+thought of her as Dulcinea may make her Dulcinea in actuality._
+
+_Such are the thoughts behind this strange book, in which fantasy
+and reality rub unfriendly shoulders. But it would be robbing the
+reader of his prerogative to explain the various symbols the author
+employs; for this is in the full sense a Symbolist novel, and, like a
+piece of music or a picture in patterns, its charm to him who will
+like it will lie in individual interpretation. I cannot, however,
+resist the desire to speak of my own personal preference for Chapter
+XIII, in which the death of certain musty Russian institutions is
+brilliantly symbolized by the author in the passage of the risen dead
+on St. John's Eve_.
+
+_In the "quiet children" the author has resurrected, as it were, the
+child heroes in which his stories abound, and given them an existence
+on a new plane, "beyond good and evil." It is only children, beings
+chaste and impressionable, who are capable of transformation--or shall
+we say transfiguration?--and if they happen to be in this case more
+paradisian than earthly it is because truth expressed in symbols must
+of necessity appear fantastic and exaggerated. It is, for the same
+reason, that we find the worthlessness of Matov expressed in his being
+turned by Trirodov into a paper-weight. Then there is the Sun, the
+Flaming Dragon, the infuriator of men's passions, powerless, however,
+to affect the "quiet children," who, freed of all passion--"the beast
+in man"--may have their white feet covered with the light dust of the
+earth, but never scorched by the evil heat._
+
+_The various references to the art and ideas of the poet Trirodov
+and to the poet's tardy recognition are certain to be recognized as
+autobiographical._
+
+_I must add that in the original this first of "Created Legend"
+novels is called "Drops of Blood," a phrase which recurs several times
+in the course of the narrative in connexion with the problem of
+cruelty in life._
+
+JOHN COURNOS
+
+_February_ 1916
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+I take a piece of life, coarse and poor, and create from it a
+delightful legend--because I am a poet. Whether it linger in the
+darkness; whether it be dim, commonplace, or raging with a furious
+fire--life is before you; I, a poet, will erect the legend I have
+created about the enchanting and the beautiful.
+
+Chance caught in the entangling net of circumstance brings about every
+beginning. Yet it is better to begin with what is splendid in earthly
+experience, or at any rate with what is beautiful and pleasing.
+Splendid are the body, the youth, and the gaiety in man; splendid are
+the water, the light, and the summer in nature.
+
+It was a bright, hot midday in summer, and the heavy glances of the
+flaming Dragon fell on the River Skorodyen. The water, the light, and
+the summer beamed and were glad; they beamed because of the sunlight
+that filled the immense space, they were glad because of the wind that
+blew from some far land, because of the many birds, because of the two
+nude maidens.
+
+Two sisters, Elisaveta and Elena, were bathing in the River Skorodyen.
+And the sun and the water were gay, because the two maidens were
+beautiful and were naked. And the two girls felt also gay and cool,
+and they wanted to scamper and to laugh, to chatter and to jest. They
+were talking about a man who had aroused their curiosity.
+
+They were the daughters of a rich proprietor. The place where they
+bathed adjoined the spacious old garden of their estate. Perhaps they
+enjoyed their bathing because they felt themselves the mistresses of
+these fast-flowing waters and of the sand-shoals under their agile
+feet. And they swam about and laughed in this river with the assurance
+and freedom of princesses born to rule. Few know the boundaries of
+their kingdom--but fortunate are they who know what they possess and
+exercise their sway.
+
+They swam up and down and across the river, and tried to outswim and
+outdive one another. Their bodies, immersed in the water, would have
+presented an entrancing sight to any one who might have looked down
+upon them from the bench in the garden on the high bank and watched
+the exquisite play of their muscles under their thin elastic skin.
+Pink tones lost themselves in the skin-yellow pearl of their bodies.
+But pink triumphed in their faces, and in those parts of the body most
+often exposed.
+
+The river-bank opposite rose in a slope. There were bushes here;
+behind them for a great distance stretched fields of rye, while just
+over the edge, where the earth and the sky met, were visible the far
+huts of the suburban village. Peasant boys passed by on the bank. They
+did not look at the bathing women. But a schoolboy, who had come a
+long way from the other end of the town, sat on his heels behind the
+bushes. He called himself an ass because he had not brought his
+camera. But he consoled himself with the thought:
+
+"To-morrow I'll surely bring it."
+
+The schoolboy quickly looked at his watch in order to make a note of
+the time the girls went out bathing. He knew them, and often came to
+their house to see his friend, their relative. Elena, the younger, now
+appealed most to him; she was plump, cheerful, white, rosy, her hands
+and feet were small. He did not like the hands and feet of the elder
+sister, Elisaveta--they seemed to him to be too large and too red. Her
+face also was red, very sunburnt, and she was altogether quite large.
+
+"Oh well," he reflected, "she is certainly well formed, you can't deny
+her that."
+
+About a year had now passed since the retired _privat-docent_
+Giorgiy Sergeyevitch Trirodov, a doctor of chemistry, had settled in
+the town of Skorodozh.[1] From the very first he had caused much talk
+in the town, mostly unsympathetic. It was quite natural that the two
+rose-yellow, black-haired girls in the water should also talk of him.
+They splashed about gaily, and as they raised jewel-like spray with
+their feet they kept up a conversation.
+
+"How puzzling it all is!" said Elena, the younger sister. "No one
+knows where his income comes from, what he does in his house, and why
+he has this colony of children. There are all sorts of strange rumours
+about him. It's certainly a mystery."
+
+Elena's words reminded Elisaveta of an article she had read lately in
+a philosophic periodical published at Moscow. Elisaveta had a good
+memory. She recalled a phrase:
+
+"In our world reason will never dominate, and the mysterious will
+always maintain its place."
+
+She tried to recall more, but suddenly realizing that it would not
+interest Elena, she gave a sigh and grew silent. Elena gave her a
+tender, appealing look and said:
+
+"When it is so bright you want everything to be as clear as it is
+around us now."
+
+"Is everything really clear now?" exclaimed Elisaveta. "The sun blinds
+your eyes, the water flashes and dazzles, and in this ragingly bright
+world we do not even know whether there isn't some one a couple of
+paces away peeping at us."
+
+At this moment the sisters were standing breast-high in the water,
+near the overgrown bank. The schoolboy who sat on his heels behind the
+bush heard Elisaveta's words. He grew cold in his confusion, and began
+to crawl on all-fours between the bushes, away from the river. He got
+in among the rye, then perched himself on the rail-fence and pretended
+to rest, as though he were not even aware of the closeness of the
+river. But no one had noticed him, as if he were non-existent.
+
+The schoolboy sat there a little while, then went home with a vague
+feeling of disenchantment, injury, and irritation. There was something
+especially humiliating to him in the thought that to the two girl
+bathers he was merely a possibility speculated upon but actually
+non-existent.
+
+Everything in this world has an end. There was an end also to the
+sisters' bathing. They made their way silently together out of the
+pleasant, cool, deep water towards the dry ground, heaven's
+terrestrial footstool, and out into the air, where they met the hot
+kisses of the slowly, cumbrously rising Dragon. They stood a while on
+the bank, yielding themselves to the Dragon's kisses, then entered the
+protected bath-house where they had left their clothes.
+
+Elisaveta's clothes were very simple. They consisted of a greenish
+yellow, not over-long tunic-dress without sleeves, and a plain straw
+hat. Elisaveta nearly always wore yellow dresses. She loved yellow,
+she loved buttercups and gold, and though she sometimes said that she
+wore yellow in order to soften her ruddy complexion, she really loved
+it simply, sincerely, and for its own sake. Yellow delighted
+Elisaveta. There was something remote and unpremeditated in this, as
+if it were a thing remembered from another, previous life.
+
+Elisaveta's heavy black braid of hair was coiled tightly and
+attractively around her head, and as it was lifted quite high at the
+back, her neck showed--sunburnt and gracefully erect. Elisaveta's face
+had a keen, almost exaggerated, expression of the mastery of will and
+intellect over the emotions. The long and peculiarly straight parting
+of her lips was very exquisite. Her blue eyes were cheerful--even when
+her lips did not smile. Their glance was thoughtful and gentle. The
+bright ruddiness and strong tan of the face seemed strangely alien to
+it.
+
+While waiting for Elena to finish dressing Elisaveta walked slowly on
+the sandy bank and looked into the monotonous distances. The fine warm
+grains of sand gently warmed her bare feet, which had grown cold in
+the water.
+
+Elena dressed slowly. She enjoyed dressing; everything that she put on
+seemed an adornment to her. She delighted in the rosy reflections of
+her skin, in her pretty light dress of a pinkish white material, in
+her broad sash of pink silk fastened behind with a buckle of
+mother-of-pearl, in her straw hat trimmed with bright pink ribbons on
+top and yellow-pink velvet on its underbrim.
+
+At last Elena was dressed. The sisters climbed the sloping bank and
+went where their curiosity drew them. They loved to take long walks.
+They had already passed several times the house and grounds of Giorgiy
+Trirodov, whom they had not yet seen once. To-day they wished to go
+that way again and to try and see what was to be seen.
+
+The sisters walked two versts through the wood. They spoke quietly of
+various things, and felt a little agitated. Curiosity often agitates
+people.
+
+The sinuous road with two wagon-ruts revealed picturesque views at
+every turn. The path finally chosen by the sisters led to a hollow.
+Its sides, overgrown with bushes and weeds, looked wildly beautiful.
+From its depth came the sweet, warm odour of clover, and down below
+its white bosom grass was visible. A small narrow bridge, propped up
+from below with thin slender stakes, hung over the hollow. On the
+other side of the bridge a low hedge stretched right and left, and in
+this hedge, quite facing the bridge, a small gate was visible.
+
+The sisters crossed the bridge, holding on to its slender hand-rail of
+birch. They tried the gate--it was closed. They looked at one another.
+Elisaveta, growing red with vexation, said:
+
+"We'll have to go back again."
+
+"Every one says that you can't get into the place," said Elena, "that
+you've got to get over the hedge, and that even that is impossible for
+some reason or other. It's very strange. I wonder what they can be up
+to?"
+
+Suddenly there was a slight rustle in the bushes by the hedge. The
+branches parted. A pale boy ran up to them. He looked quickly at the
+sisters with his clear, intensely calm, almost dead eyes. There was
+something strange in the shape of his pale lips, thought Elisaveta. A
+motionless, sorrowful expression lurked in the corners of his mouth.
+He opened the gate; he seemed to say something, but so quietly that
+the sisters could not catch his words. Or was it the sound of the
+light breeze in the wavering foliage?
+
+The boy hid himself behind the bushes so quickly that it was hard to
+believe that he had been there at all; the sisters had no time to be
+astonished or to thank him. It was as if the gate had opened by
+itself, or had been pushed open by one of the sisters by chance.
+
+They stood there undecided. An incomprehensible unrest took possession
+of them for an instant and as quickly went from them. Curiosity again
+dominated them. The sisters entered.
+
+"How did he open it?" asked Elena.
+
+Elisaveta, without a word, went quickly forward. She was so elated at
+getting in that she had almost forgotten the pale boy. Only somewhere,
+within the domain of vague consciousness, there gleamed dimly a
+strange white face.
+
+The wood was quite like the one by which they had come to the gate,
+quite as pensive and as tall and as isolated from the sky, and as
+absorbed in its own mysteries. But here it seemed to have been
+conquered by human activity. Not far away voices, cries, laughter
+resounded. Here and there were evidences of left-off games. The narrow
+footpaths often led to wider paths of sand. The sisters quickly
+followed the winding path in the direction from which the children's
+voices sounded loudest. Afterwards all this jumble of sound seemed to
+collapse, and it renewed itself in loud, sweet singing.
+
+At last there appeared before them a small glade--oval in shape. Tall
+firs edged this open space as evenly as graceful columns in a
+magnificent _salle_. The blue of the sky above it seemed
+especially bright, pure and dominant. The glade was full of children
+of various ages. They were sitting and reclining all around in ones,
+twos, and threes. In the middle some thirty boys and girls were
+singing and dancing; their dance followed strictly the rhythm of the
+tune and interpreted the words of the song with beautiful fidelity.
+They were directed by a tall, graceful girl who had a strong, sonorous
+voice, braids of magnificent golden hair, and grey, cheerful eyes.
+
+All of them, the children as well as their instructresses--of whom
+three or four were to be seen--were dressed quite simply and alike.
+Their simple, light attire seemed beautiful. It was pleasant to look
+at them, perhaps because their dress revealed the active parts of
+their body, the arms and the legs. Dress here was made to protect, and
+not to conceal; to clothe, and not to muffle.
+
+The blue and red of the hats and of the dresses gave emphasis to the
+vivid tones of the faces and of the arms and legs. There was a spirit
+of gaiety here, a sense of holiday splendour in these naturally
+adorned bodies, boldly revealed under clear azure skies.
+
+Some of the children from among those who did not sing approached the
+sisters and looked at them in a friendly manner, smiling trustfully.
+
+"You may sit down if you like," said a boy with very blue eyes; "here
+is a bench."
+
+"Thank you, my dear," said Elisaveta.
+
+The sisters sat down. The children wished to talk to them. One little
+girl said:
+
+"I've just seen a little squirrel. It was sitting on a pine. Then I
+gave a shout--you should have seen it run!"
+
+The others also began to talk and to ask questions. The singers ended
+their song and scattered in all directions to play. The golden-haired
+instructress went up to the sisters and asked:
+
+"Have you come from town? Are you pleased with what you have seen
+here?"
+
+"Yes, it's splendid here," said Elisaveta. "Our place adjoins this. We
+are the Rameyevs. I am Elisaveta. And this is my sister Elena."
+
+The golden-haired girl suddenly blushed as if she felt ashamed that
+the wealthy young women were looking at her naked shoulders and at her
+legs naked to the knee. But seeing that they too were barefoot and
+wore short skirts, she quickly recovered and smiled at them.
+
+"My name is Nadezhda Vestchezerova," she said.
+
+She looked attentively at the sisters. Elisaveta thought that she had
+heard the name somewhere in town--perhaps a tale in connexion with it,
+she could not remember exactly what. For some reason she did not
+mention this to Nadezhda. Perhaps it was a tragic history.
+
+This fear of talking about the past occasionally came upon Elisaveta.
+Who knows what sorrow is hid behind a bright smile, and from what
+darkness has sprung the blossoming which gives sudden joy to a glance,
+elusively beautiful and born of unhappy worldly experience?
+
+"Did you find your way in easily?" asked the golden-haired Nadezhda
+with a friendly but subtle smile. "It's usually not a simple matter,"
+she explained.
+
+Elisaveta replied:
+
+"A white boy opened the gate for us. He ran off so quickly that we had
+not even the time to thank him."
+
+Nadezhda suddenly ceased smiling.
+
+"Oh yes--he isn't one of us," she said falteringly. "They live over
+there with Trirodov. There are several of them. Wouldn't you like to
+have lunch with us?" she asked, cutting short her previous remarks.
+
+Elisaveta suspected that Nadezhda wanted to change the subject.
+
+"We live here all day long, we eat here, we learn here, and we play
+here--do everything here," said Nadezhda. "People have built cities to
+escape the wild beast, but they themselves have become like wild
+beasts, like savages."
+
+A bitter note crept into her voice--was it the echo of her past life
+or was it a thing foreign to her and grafted upon her sensitive
+nature? She continued:
+
+"We have come from the town into the woods. From the wild beast, from
+the savages of the town. The beast must be killed. The wolf and the
+fox and the hawk--all those who prey upon others--they must be
+killed."
+
+Elisaveta asked:
+
+"How is one to kill a beast who has grown iron and steel nails, and
+who has built his lair in the town? It is he who does the killing, and
+there's no end in sight to his ferocity."
+
+Nadezhda knitted her eyebrows, pressed her hands, and stubbornly
+repeated:
+
+"We shall kill him, we shall kill him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+The sisters stayed to lunch.
+
+They remained over an hour chattering cheerfully with the children and
+their instructresses. The children were sweet and confiding. The
+instructresses, no less simple and charming, seemed cheerful,
+care-free, and restful. Yet they were always busy, and nothing escaped
+them. Besides many of the children did certain things without being
+urged, this being evidently a part of a system, of which the sisters
+had as yet barely an inkling.
+
+Instruction was mixed up with play. One of the instructresses invited
+the sisters to listen to what she called her lesson. The sisters
+listened with enjoyment to an interesting discourse concerning the
+objects the children had observed that day in the wood. There were
+other instructresses who had just returned from the depths of the
+wood--some children were going into the wood, others were coming out,
+quite different ones.
+
+The instructress to whom the sisters were listening ended her
+discourse and suddenly scampered off somewhere. Through the dark
+foliage of the trees could be seen the glimmer of red caps and of
+sunburnt arms and legs. The sisters were again left alone. No one paid
+especial attention to them any longer; evidently there was no one they
+either embarrassed or hindered.
+
+"It's time to go," said Elena.
+
+Elisaveta made a move.
+
+"Yes, let's go," she agreed. "It's very interesting and delightful
+here, but we can't stay for ever."
+
+The departure of the sisters had been noticed. A few of the children
+ran up to them. The children cried gaily:
+
+"We will show you the way, or you'll get lost."
+
+When the sisters paused at the gate, Elisaveta thought that some one
+was looking at her, out of a hiding-place, with a gaze of
+astonishment. In perplexity, strange and distressing, she looked
+around her. Behind the hedge in the bushes a small boy and a small
+girl were hiding. They were like the others she had seen here, except
+that they were very white, as though the kisses of the stern Dragon
+floating in the hot sky had left no traces upon their tender skin.
+Both the little boy and the little girl were staring with a motionless
+but attentive gaze. Their chaste look seemed to penetrate into the
+very depth of one's soul; this rather disconcerted Elisaveta. She
+whispered to Elena:
+
+"Look, what strange beings!"
+
+Elena looked in the direction of Elisaveta's glance and said
+indifferently:
+
+"Monsters!"
+
+Elisaveta was astonished at her sister's observation--the faces of
+these hiding children seemed to her like the faces of praying angels.
+
+By this time the children who had escorted the sisters ran back,
+jostling each other and laughing. Only one boy remained with them. He
+opened the gate and waited for the sisters to go out so that he could
+shut it again. Elisaveta quietly asked him:
+
+"Who are these?"
+
+With a light movement of her head she indicated the bushes, where the
+boy and the girl were hiding. The cheerful urchin looked in the
+direction of her glance, then at her, and said:
+
+"There's no one there."
+
+And actually no one was now visible in the bushes. Elisaveta
+persisted:
+
+"But I did see a boy and a girl there. Both were quite white, not at
+all brown like the rest of you. They stood ever so quietly and
+looked."
+
+The cheery, dark-eyed lad looked attentively at Elisaveta, frowned
+slightly, lowered his eyes, reflected, then again eyed the sisters
+attentively and sadly, and said:
+
+"In the main building, where Giorgiy Sergeyevitch lives, there are
+more of these quiet children. They are never with us. They are quiet
+ones. They do not play. They have been ill. It's likely they haven't
+improved yet. I don't know. They are kept separately."
+
+The boy said this slowly and thoughtfully, as if he were astonished
+because there, in the house of the master, were other children, quiet
+ones, who did not join in their play. Suddenly he shook his head
+lustily, banishing, as it were, unaccustomed thoughts, then took off
+his cap and exclaimed cheerily and with some tenderness:
+
+"A happy journey, darlings! Follow this footpath."
+
+He made an obeisance and ran off. The sisters were quite alone now.
+They went on in the direction given them by the boy. A quiet vale
+opened up before them, and in the distance a white wall was visible,
+which concealed Trirodov's house. They continued their way towards the
+house. In front of them, keeping close to the bushes, walked a boy in
+a white dress; he appeared to be showing them the way.
+
+It was very quiet. High above them, protecting himself from the human
+eye by dark purple shields, the flaming Dragon rested. His look from
+behind the deceptive, vacillant shields was hot and evil; he poured
+out his dazzling light, tormented men with it, yet wished them to
+rejoice in his presence and to compose hymns to him. He wished to
+rule, and it seemed as though he were motionless, as though he would
+never decide to retire. But his livid weariness already began to
+incline him westwards. Still his passion grew, and his kisses were
+scorching, and his infuriated gaze with its livid purple dimmed the
+glances of the two girls.
+
+The girls' glances were seeking--seeking Trirodov's house.
+
+Trirodov's house stood about a verst and a half from the edge of the
+town, not at the end where the dirty and smoky factory buildings
+squatted, but quite at the other end, along the River Skorodyen, above
+the town of Skorodozh. This house and the estate attached to it
+occupied a considerable space, surrounded by a stone wall. One side of
+the place faced the river, the other the town, the rest adjoined the
+fields and woods. The house stood in the middle of an old garden. From
+behind the tall white stone wall the tops of the trees were to be
+seen, while between them, quite high, two turrets of the house, one
+somewhat higher than the other, were visible. The sisters felt as if
+some one in the high turret were looking down upon them.
+
+There were ominous rumours concerning the house even in the days when
+it belonged to the previous tenant Matov, a kinsman of the Rameyev
+sisters. It was said that the house was inhabited by ghosts, and by
+phantoms who had left their graves. There was a footpath close to the
+house which led across the northern part of the estate, through a
+wood, to the Krutitsk cemetery. In the town they called this the
+footpath of Navii,[2] and they were afraid to walk upon it even by
+day. Many legends grew up around it. The local _intelligentsia_
+tried vainly to disprove them. The whole property was sometimes called
+Navii's playground. There were some who said that they had seen with
+their own eyes this enigmatic inscription on the gates: "Three went
+in, two came out." This inscription was, of course, no longer there.
+Now only lightly cut-out figures were to be seen, one under the other:
+'3' on top, '2' lower, and '1' at the bottom.
+
+All the evil rumours and warnings did not prevent Giorgiy Sergeyevitch
+Trirodov from buying the house. He made changes in it, and then
+settled here after his comparatively brief educational career had been
+rudely cut short.
+
+It took a long time to rebuild and transform the house. The high walls
+prevented any one from seeing what was being done there. This aroused
+the curiosity of the townsfolk and caused all sorts of malicious
+gossip. The working men did not belong to the place, but were brought
+from a distance. Dark and short and rather gruff-looking, they did not
+understand the local speech, and seldom showed themselves in the
+streets.
+
+"They are wicked and dark" was said about them in the town. "They
+carry knives about with them, and dig underground passages in Navii's
+playground. He himself is clean-shaven like a German, and he's
+imported these foreign earth-diggers."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I like that red-haired instructress, Nadezhda Vestchezerova," said
+Elena.
+
+She looked searchingly at her sister.
+
+"Yes, she's very sincere," answered Elisaveta. '"A fine girl."
+
+"They are all charming," said Elena with greater assurance.
+
+"Yes," observed Elisaveta, with indecision in her voice. "But there is
+that other--the one that ran away from us--there's something I don't
+like about her. Perhaps it's a slight veneer of hypocrisy."
+
+"Why do you say so?" asked Elena.
+
+"I simply feel it. She smiles too pleasantly, too lovingly. She seems
+in every way phlegmatic, yet she tries to appear animated. Her words
+come rather easily sometimes, and she exaggerates."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was quiet in the garden behind the stone wall. This was Kirsha's
+free hour. But he could not play, though he tried to.
+
+Little Kirsha, Trirodov's son, whose mother had died not long before,
+was dark and thin. He had a very mobile face and restless dark eyes.
+He was dressed like the boys in the wood. He was quite restless
+to-day. He felt sad without knowing why. He felt as if some invisible
+being were drawing him on, calling to him in an inaudible whisper,
+demanding something--what? And who was it approaching their house?
+Why? Friend or foe? It was a stranger--yet curiously intimate.
+
+At that moment, when the sisters were taking leave of the children in
+the wood, Kirsha felt especially perturbed. In the far corner of the
+garden he saw a boy in white dress; he ran up to him. They spoke long
+and quietly. Then Kirsha ran to his father.
+
+Giorgiy Sergeyevitch Trirodov was all alone at home. He was lying on
+the sofa, reading a book by Wilde.
+
+Trirodov was forty years old. He was slender and erect. His
+short-trimmed hair and clean-shaven face made him look very young.
+Only on closer scrutiny it was possible to detect the many grey hairs,
+the wrinkles on the forehead around the eyes. His face was pale. His
+broad forehead seemed very large--it was partly due to a narrow chin,
+lean cheeks, and baldness.
+
+The room where Trirodov was reading--his study--was large, bright, and
+simple, with a white, unpainted floor as smooth as a mirror. The walls
+were lined with open bookcases. In the wall opposite the windows,
+between the bookcases, a narrow space was left, large enough for a man
+to stand in. It gave the impression of a door being there, hidden by
+hangings. In the middle of the room stood a very large table, upon
+which lay books, papers, and several strange objects--hexahedral
+prisms of an unfamiliar substance, heavy and solid in appearance, dark
+red in colour, with purple, blue, grey, and black spots, and with
+veins running across it.
+
+Kirsha knocked on the door and entered--quiet, small, troubled.
+Trirodov looked at him anxiously. Kirsha said:
+
+"There are two young women in the wood. Such an inquisitive pair. They
+have been looking over our colony. Now they'd like to come here to
+take a look round."
+
+Trirodov let the pale green ribbon with a lightly stamped pattern fall
+upon the page he was reading and laid the book on the small table at
+his side. He then took Kirsha by the hand, drew him close, and looked
+attentively at him, with a slight stir in his eyes; then said quietly:
+
+"You've been asking questions of those quiet boys again."
+
+Kirsha grew red, but stood erect and calm, Trirodov continued to
+reproach him:
+
+"How often have I told you that this is wicked. It is bad for you and
+for them."
+
+"It's all the same to them," said Kirsha quietly.
+
+"How do you know?" asked Trirodov.
+
+Kirsha shrugged his shoulders and said obstinately:
+
+"Why are they here? What are they to us?"
+
+Trirodov turned away, then rose abruptly, went to the window, and
+looked gloomily into the garden. Clearly something was agitating his
+consciousness, something that needed deciding. Kirsha quietly walked
+up to him, stepping softly upon the white, warm floor with his
+sunburnt graceful feet, high in instep, and with long, beautiful,
+well-formed toes. He touched his father on the shoulder, quietly
+rested his sunburnt hand there, and said:
+
+"You know, daddy, that I seldom do this, only when I must. I felt very
+much troubled to-day. I knew that something would happen."
+
+"What will happen?" asked his father.
+
+"I have a feeling," said Kirsha with a pleading voice, "that you must
+let them in to us--these inquisitive girls."
+
+Trirodov looked very attentively at his son and smiled. Kirsha said
+gravely:
+
+"The elder one is very charming. In some way she is like mother. But
+the other is also nice."
+
+"What brings them here?" again asked Trirodov. "They might have waited
+until their elders brought them here."
+
+Kirsha smiled, sighed lightly, and said thoughtfully, shrugging his
+small shoulders:
+
+"All women are curious. What's to be done with them?"
+
+Smiling now joyously, now gravely, Trirodov asked:
+
+"And will mother not come to us?"
+
+"Oh, if she only came, if only for one little minute!" exclaimed
+Kirsha.
+
+"What are we to do with these girls?" asked Trirodov.
+
+"Invite them in, show them the house," replied Kirsha.
+
+"And the quiet children?" quietly asked Trirodov.
+
+"The quiet children also like the elder one," answered Kirsha.
+
+"And who are they, these girls?" asked Trirodov.
+
+"They are our neighbours, the Rameyevs," said Kirsha.
+
+Trirodov smiled again and said:
+
+"Yes, one can understand why they are so curious."
+
+He frowned, went to the table, put his hand on one of the dark, heavy
+prisms and picked it up cautiously, and again carefully put it back in
+its place, saying at the same time to Kirsha:
+
+"Go, then, and meet them and bring them here."
+
+Kirsha, growing animated, asked:
+
+"By the door or through the grotto?"
+
+"Yes, bring them through the dark passage, underground."
+
+Kirsha went out. Trirodov was left alone. He opened the drawer of his
+writing-table, took out a strangely shaped flagon of green glass
+filled with a dark fluid, and looked in the direction of the secret
+door. At that instant it opened quietly and easily. A pale, quiet boy
+entered and looked at Trirodov with his dispassionate and innocent,
+but understanding eyes.
+
+Trirodov went up to him. A reproach was ripe on his tongue but he
+could not say it. Pity and tenderness clung to his lips. Silently he
+gave the strange-shaped flagon to the boy. The boy went out quietly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+The sisters entered a thicket. The path's many turnings made them
+giddy. Suddenly the turrets of the old house vanished from sight.
+Everything around them assumed an unfamiliar look.
+
+"We seem to have lost our way," said Elena cheerfully.
+
+"Never fear, we'll find our way out," replied Elisaveta. "We are bound
+to get somewhere."
+
+At that instant there came towards them from among the bushes the
+small, sunburnt, handsome Kirsha. His dark, closely grown eyebrows and
+black wavy hair, unspoiled by headgear, gave him the wild look of a
+wood-sprite.
+
+"Dear boy, where do you come from?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+Kirsha eyed the sisters with an attentive, direct, and innocent gaze.
+He said:
+
+"I am Kirsha Trirodov. Follow this path, and you'll find yourselves
+where you want to go. I'll go ahead of you."
+
+He turned and walked on. The sisters followed him upon the narrow path
+between the tall trees. Here and there flowers were visible--small,
+white, odorous flowers. They emitted a strange, pungent smell. It made
+the sisters feel both gay and languid. Kirsha walked silently before
+them.
+
+At the end of the road loomed a mound, overgrown by tangled, ugly
+grass. At the foot of the mound was a rusty door which looked as if it
+were meant to hide some treasure.
+
+Kirsha felt in his pocket, took out a key, and opened the door. It
+creaked unpleasantly and breathed out cold, dampness, and fear. A long
+dark passage became discernible. Kirsha pressed a spot near the door.
+The dark passage became lit up as though by electric light, but the
+lights themselves were not visible.
+
+The sisters entered the grotto. The light poured from everywhere. But
+the sources of light remained a mystery. The walls themselves seemed
+to radiate. The light fell evenly, and neither bright reflections nor
+shadowy places were to be seen.
+
+The sisters went on. Now they were alone. The door closed behind them
+with a grating sound. Kirsha ran on ahead. The sisters no longer saw
+him. The corridor was sinuous. It was difficult to walk fast for some
+unknown reason. A kind of weight seemed to fetter their limbs. The
+passage inclined slightly downwards. They walked on like this a long
+time. It grew hotter and damper the farther they advanced. There was
+an aroma--strange, sad, and exotic. The fragrance increased, became
+more and more languorous. It made the head dizzy and the heart ready
+to faint with a sweetness not free from pain.
+
+It seemed an incredibly long way. Their legs now moved more slowly.
+The stone floor was cruelly hard.
+
+"It's almost impossible to walk," whispered Elisaveta.
+
+Those few moments seemed like ages in that dank, sultry underground.
+There seemed to be no end to the narrow winding passage; the two
+sisters felt as though they were doomed to walk on and on, for ever
+and ever, without reaching any place.
+
+The light gradually grew dimmer, a thin mist rose before their eyes.
+Still they walked on along the cruel, endless way.
+
+Suddenly their journey was done. Before them was an open door, a shaft
+of white, exultant light came pouring in--freedom's own ecstasy.
+
+The door opened into an immense greenhouse. Strange, muscular,
+monstrously green plants grew here. The air was very humid, very
+oppressive. The glass walls intersected by iron bars let through much
+light. The light was painfully, pitilessly dazzling, so that
+everything appeared in a whirl before their eyes.
+
+Elena glanced at her dress. It struck her as being grey, worn out. But
+the bright light diverted her glances elsewhere and made her forget
+herself. The blue-green glass sky of the greenhouse flung down sparks
+and heat. The cruel Dragon rejoiced at the earthly respirations
+confined in this prison of glass. He furiously kissed his beloved
+poisonous grasses.
+
+"It is even more terrible here than in the passage," said Elisaveta.
+"Let's leave this place quickly."
+
+"No, it is pleasant here," said Elena with a happy smile. She was
+enjoying the pink and purple flowers which bloomed in a round basin.
+
+But Elisaveta walked rapidly towards the door leading to the garden.
+Elena overtook her, and grumbled:
+
+"Why are you running? Here is a bench; let's rest here."
+
+Trirodov met them in the garden just outside the greenhouse. His
+manner of addressing them was simple and direct.
+
+"I believe," he began, "that you are interested in this house and its
+owner. Well, if you like I'll show you a part of my kingdom."
+
+Elena blushed. Elisaveta calmly bowed and said:
+
+"Yes, we are an inquisitive pair. This house once belonged to a
+relative, but it was left abandoned. It is said that many changes have
+been made."
+
+"Yes, many changes have been made," said Trirodov quietly, "but the
+greater part remains as it was."
+
+"Every one was astonished," continued Elisaveta, "when you decided to
+settle here. The reputation of the house did not hinder you."
+
+Trirodov led the sisters through the house and the garden. The
+conversation ran on smoothly. The sisters' embarrassment was soon
+gone. They felt quite natural with Trirodov. His calm, friendly voice
+put them wholly at ease. They continued to walk and to observe. But
+they felt conscious that another life, intimate yet remote, hovered
+round them all the while. Sounds of music came to them at intervals;
+sometimes it was the doleful tones of a violin, sometimes the quiet
+plaint of a flute; again it was the reed-like voice of some unseen
+singer which sang a tender and restful song.
+
+Upon one small lawn, in the shade of old trees, whose foliage
+protected them from the hot glare of the Dragon, making it pleasantly
+cool and pleasantly dark there, a number of small boys and girls,
+dressed in white, had formed a ring and were dancing. As the sisters
+approached them the children dispersed. They scampered off so quietly
+that they barely made a sound even when they brushed against the
+twigs; they vanished as though they had not been there.
+
+The sisters listened to Trirodov as they walked, pausing often to
+admire the beauties of the garden--its trees, lawns, ponds, islands,
+its quietly murmuring fountains, its picturesque arbours, its
+profusely gay flower-beds. They felt a keen elation at having
+penetrated this mysterious house--they were as happy as schoolgirls at
+the thought of having infringed the commonly accepted rules of good
+society in coming here.
+
+As they entered one room of the house Elena exclaimed:
+
+"What a strange room!"
+
+"A magic room," said Trirodov with a smile.
+
+It was indeed a strange room--everything in it had an odd shape: the
+ceiling sloped, the floor was concave, the corners were round, upon
+the walls were incomprehensible pictures and unfamiliar hieroglyphics.
+In one corner was a dark, flat object in a carved frame of black wood.
+
+"It's a mirror in which it is interesting to take a look at oneself,"
+said Trirodov. "Only you have to stand in that triangle close to the
+wall, near the corner."
+
+The sisters went there and glanced in the mirror: two old wrinkled
+faces were reflected in it. Elena cried out in fright. Elisaveta,
+growing pale, turned towards her sister and smiled.
+
+"Don't be afraid," she said, "it's a trick of some sort."
+
+Elena looked at her and cried out in horror:
+
+"You have become quite old--grey-haired! How awful!"
+
+She ran from the mirror, crying out in her fright:
+
+"What is it? What is it?"
+
+Elisaveta followed her. She did not understand what had happened; she
+was agitated, and tried to hide her confusion. Trirodov looked at them
+in a self-possessed manner. He opened a cupboard, inset in the wall.
+
+"Be calm," he said to Elena. "I'll give you some water in a moment."
+
+He gave her a glass containing a fluid as colourless as water. Elena
+quickly drank the sour-sweet water, and suddenly felt cheerful.
+Elisaveta also drank it. Elena threw herself towards the mirror.
+
+"I'm young again," she exclaimed in a high voice.
+
+Then she ran forward, embraced Elisaveta, and said cheerfully:
+
+"And you too, Elisaveta, have grown young."
+
+An impetuous joy seized both sisters. They caught each other by the
+hands and began to dance and to twirl round the room. Then they
+suddenly felt ashamed. They stopped, and did not know which way to
+look; they laughed in their confusion. Elisaveta said:
+
+"What a stupid pair we are! You think us ridiculous, don't you?"
+
+Trirodov smiled in a friendly fashion:
+
+"That is the nature of this place," he observed. "Terror and joy live
+here together."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The sisters were shown many interesting things in the house--objects
+of art and of worship; things which told of distant lands and of hoary
+antiquity; engravings of a strange and disturbing character;
+variegated stones, turquoise, pearls; ugly, amorphous, and grotesque
+idols; representations of the god-child--there were many of these, but
+only one face profoundly stirred Elisaveta....
+
+Elena enjoyed the objects that resembled toys. There were many things
+there that one could play with, and thus indulge in a jumble of magic
+reflections of time and space.
+
+The sisters had seen so much that it seemed as if an age had passed,
+but actually they had spent only two hours here. It is impossible to
+measure time. One hour is an age, another is an instant; but humanity
+makes no distinction, levels the hours down to an average.
+
+"What, only two hours!" exclaimed Elena. "How long we've spent here.
+It's time to go home for dinner."
+
+"Do you mind being a little late?" asked Trirodov.
+
+"How can we?" said Elena.
+
+Elisaveta explained:
+
+"The hour of dinner is strictly kept in our house."
+
+"I'll have a cart ready for you."
+
+The sisters thanked him. But they must start at once. They both
+suddenly felt sad and tired. They bade their host good-bye and left
+him. The boy in white went before them in the garden and showed them
+the way.
+
+No sooner had they again entered the underground passage than they saw
+a soft couch, and a fatigue so poignant suddenly overcame them that
+they could not advance another step.
+
+"Let's sit down," said Elena.
+
+"Yes," replied Elisaveta, "I too am tired. How strange! What a
+weariness!"
+
+The sisters sat down. Elisaveta said quietly:
+
+"The light that falls upon us here from an unknown source is not a
+living light, and it is terrifying--but the stern face of the monster,
+burning yet not consuming itself, is even more terrifying."
+
+"The lovely sun," said Elena.
+
+"It will become extinguished," said Elisaveta, "extinguished--this
+unrighteous luminary, and in the depth of subterranean passages, freed
+from the scorching Dragon and from cold that kills, men will erect a
+new life full of wisdom."
+
+Elena whispered:
+
+"When the earth grows cold, men will die."
+
+"The earth will not die," answered Elisaveta no less quietly.
+
+The sisters fell into a sleep. They did not sleep long, and when both
+awakened quite suddenly, everything that had just happened seemed like
+a dream. They made haste.
+
+"We must hurry home," said Elena in an anxious voice.
+
+They ran quickly. The door of the underground passage was open. Just
+outside the door, in the road, stood a cart. Kirsha sat in it and held
+the reins. The sisters seated themselves. Elisaveta took the reins.
+Kirsha spoke a word now and then. They said little on the way, in odd,
+disjointed words.
+
+Arrived at their destination, they got out of the cart. They were in a
+half-somnolent state. Kirsha was off before they realized that they
+had not thanked him. When they looked for him they could only see a
+cloud of dust and hear the clatter of hoofs and the rattle of wheels
+on the cobblestones.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+The sisters had barely time to change for dinner. They entered the
+dining-room somewhat weary and distraught. They were awaited there by
+their father Rameyev, the two Matovs--the student Piotr Dmitrievitch
+and the schoolboy Misha, sons of Rameyev's lately deceased cousin to
+whom Trirodov's estate had previously belonged.
+
+The sisters spoke little at the table, and they said nothing of their
+day's adventure. Yet before this they used to be frank and loved to
+chat, to tell the things that had happened to them.
+
+Piotr Matov, a tall, spare, pale youth with sparkling eyes, who looked
+like a man about to enter a prophetic school, seemed worried and
+irritated. His nervousness reflected itself, in embarrassed smiles and
+awkward movements, in Misha. The latter was a well-nourished,
+rosy-cheeked lad, with a quick, merry eye, but betraying his intense
+impressionableness. His smiling mouth trembled slightly around the
+corners, apparently without cause.
+
+The old Rameyev, who was more robust than tall, and had the tranquil
+manners of a well-trained, well-balanced individual, did not betray
+his impatience at his daughters' tardy appearance, but took his place
+at the partially extended table, which seemed small in the middle of
+the immense dining-room of dark, embellished oak. Miss Harrison,
+unembarrassed, began to ladle out the soup; she was a plump, calm,
+slightly grey-haired woman, the personification of a successful
+household.
+
+Rameyev noticed that his daughters were tired. A vague alarm stirred
+within him. But he quickly extinguished this tiny spark of
+displeasure, smiled tenderly at his daughters, and said very quietly,
+as if cautiously hinting at something:
+
+"You have walked a little too far, my dears."
+
+There was a short but awkward silence; then, in order to soften the
+hidden significance of his words and to ease his daughters'
+embarrassment, he added:
+
+"I see you don't ride horseback as much as you used to."
+
+After this he turned to the eldest of the brothers:
+
+"Well, Petya, have you brought any news from town?"
+
+The sisters felt uneasy. They tried to take part in the conversation.
+
+This was in those days when the red demon of murder was prowling in
+our native land, and his terrible deeds brought discord and hate into
+the bosom of peaceful families. The young people in this house, as
+elsewhere, often talked and wrangled about what had happened and what
+was yet to be. For all their wrangling, they could not reach any
+agreement. Friendship from childhood and good breeding mitigated to
+some extent this antagonism of ideas. But more than once their
+discussions ended in bitter words.
+
+Piotr, in reply to Rameyev, began to tell about working-men's
+disturbances and projected strikes. Irritation was evident in his
+voice. He was one of those who was intensely troubled by problems of a
+religious-philosophical character. He thought that the mystical
+existence of human unities might be achieved only under the brilliant
+and alluring sway of Caesars and Popes. He imagined that he loved
+freedom--Christian freedom--yet all the turbulent movements of newly
+awakened life aroused only hate in his heart.
+
+"There's terrible news," said Piotr; "a general strike is talked of.
+It is reported that all the factories will shut down to-morrow."
+
+Misha burst into an unexpected laugh; it was loud, merry, and
+childlike; and there was almost rapture in his remark:
+
+"But you ought to see the sort of face the Headmaster makes on all
+such occasions."
+
+His voice was tender and sonorous, and it rang so softly and sweetly
+that he might have been telling about the blessed and the innocent,
+about the chaste play on the threshold of paradisian abodes. The words
+"strike" and "obstruction" came from his lips like the names of rare,
+sweet morsels. He grew cheerful and had a sudden desire to make things
+lively in schoolboy fashion. He began to sing loudly:
+
+"Awake, rise up...."
+
+But he became confused, stopped sadly, grew quiet, and blushed. The
+sisters laughed. Piotr had a surly look. Rameyev smiled benignly. Miss
+Harrison, pretending not to have noticed the discordant incident,
+calmly pressed the button of the electric bell attached on a cord to
+the hanging light to bring on the next course.
+
+The dinner proceeded slowly in the usual order. The discussion grew
+hotter, and went helter-skelter from subject to subject. Such is said
+to be the Russian manner in argument. Perhaps it is the universal
+manner of people when discussing something that touches them deeply.
+
+Piotr exclaimed hotly:
+
+"Why is the autocracy of the proletariat better than the one already
+in force? And what wild, barbarous watchwords they have! 'Who is not
+with us, he is against us!' 'Who is master, let him get down from his
+place; it's our banquet.'"
+
+"It's yet too early to speak of our banquet," said Elena in a
+restrained voice.
+
+"Do you know where we are drifting?" continued Piotr. "There will be a
+reign of terror, and a shaking up such as Russia has not yet
+experienced. The point at issue is not that there is talking or doing
+here or there by certain gentry who imagine that they are making
+history. The real issue is in the clash of two classes, two interests,
+two cultures, two conceptions of the world, two moral systems. Who is
+it that wishes to seize the crown of lordship? It is the
+_Kham_,[3] it is he who threatens to devour our culture."
+
+Elisaveta said reproachfully:
+
+"What a word--_Kham_!"
+
+Piotr smiled in a nervous and aggrieved manner, and asked:
+
+"You don't like it?"
+
+"I don't like it," said Elisaveta calmly.
+
+With her habitual subjection to the thoughts and moods of her elder
+sister, Elena said:
+
+"It is a rude word. I feel a reminiscence of a once helpless serfdom
+in it."
+
+"Nevertheless this word is now sufficiently literary," said Piotr,
+with a vague smile. "And why shouldn't one use it? It's not the word
+that matters. We have seen countless instances with our own eyes of
+the progress of the spiritual bossiak[4] who is savagely indifferent
+to everything, who is hopelessly wild, malicious, and drunken for
+generations to come. He will crush everything--science, art,
+everything! A good characteristic specimen of a _kham_ is your
+Stchemilov, with whom, Elisaveta, you sympathize so strongly. He's a
+familiar young fellow, a handsome flunkey."
+
+Piotr fixed his eyes on Elisaveta. She replied calmly:
+
+"I think you very unjust to him. He is a good man."
+
+Every one was glad when dinner was ended. It was a provoking
+conversation. Even the imperturbable Miss Harrison rose from her place
+rather sooner than usual. Rameyev went to his own room to get his
+hour's nap. The young people went into the garden. Misha and Elena ran
+downhill to the river. They had a keen desire to run one after the
+other and to laugh.
+
+"Elisaveta!" called out Piotr.
+
+His voice trembled nervously. Elisaveta paused. She now stood within
+the deep shadow of an old linden. She looked questioningly at Piotr,
+her graceful bare arms folded on her breast; suddenly her heart beat
+faster. What a power of bewitchment was in those most lovable
+arms--oh, why did not some sudden impulse of passion throw them upon
+his shoulders!
+
+"May I speak a few words to you, Elisaveta?" asked Piotr.
+
+Elisaveta flushed a little, lowered her head, and said quietly:
+
+"Let's sit down somewhere."
+
+She walked along the path towards the small summer-house which looked
+down the slope. Piotr followed her silently. In silence also they
+ascended the steep passage. Elisaveta seated herself and rested her
+arms upon the low rail of the open summer-house. The undulating
+distances lay before her in one broad panoramic sweep--a view intimate
+from childhood, and which never failed to awaken the same delightful
+emotion. She was looking no longer at the separate objects--Nature
+poured herself out like music before her, in an inexhaustible play of
+colour and of soothing sound. Piotr stood before her and looked at her
+handsome face. The setting Dragon caressed Elisaveta's face with its
+warm light; the skin thus suffused exulted in its radiance and bloom.
+
+They were silent. Both felt a painful awkwardness. Piotr was nervously
+breaking twigs from a birch near by. Elisaveta began:
+
+"What is it you wish to tell me?"
+
+A cold remoteness, almost enmity, sounded in her deeply agitated
+voice. She felt her own harshness, to soften which she smiled gently
+and timidly.
+
+"What's there to say," began Piotr quietly and irresolutely, "but one
+and the same thing. Elisaveta, I love you!"
+
+Elisaveta flushed. Her eyes gave a sudden flare, then grew dull. She
+rose from her seat and spoke in an agitated manner:
+
+"Piotr, why do you again torment yourself and me needlessly? We have
+been so intimate from childhood--yet it seems that we must part! Our
+ways are different, we think differently, and believe differently."
+
+Piotr listened to her with an expression of intense impatience and
+vexation. Elisaveta wished to continue, but he interrupted:
+
+"Ah, but what's the good of saying that? Elisaveta, do, I beg you,
+forget our differences. They are so petty! Or let us admit that they
+are significant. What I wish to say is that politics and all that
+separates us is only a light scum, a momentary froth on the broad
+surface of our life. In love there is revelation, there is eternal
+truth. He who does not love, he who does not strive towards union with
+a beloved, he is dead."
+
+"I love the people, I love freedom," said Elisaveta quietly. "My love
+is revolt."
+
+Piotr, ignoring her words, went on:
+
+"You know that I love you. I have loved you a long time. My whole soul
+is absorbed as with light with my love for you. I am jealous--and I'm
+not ashamed to tell you I am jealous of your favour to any one; I am
+even jealous of this bloused workman, whose accomplice you would be if
+he had had the sufficient boldness and the brain to be a conspirator;
+I am jealous of the half-truths which have captivated you and screen
+your love of me."
+
+Again Elisaveta spoke quietly:
+
+"You reproach me for what is dear to me, for my better part, you wish
+that I should become different. You do not love me, you are tempted by
+the beautiful Beast--my young body with its smiles and its
+caresses...."
+
+And again ignoring what she said, Piotr asserted passionately:
+
+"Elisaveta, dearest, love me! You surely do not love any one else!
+Isn't that so? You do not love any one? You have had no time to fall
+in love, to fetter your soul to any one else's. You are as free as
+man's first bride, you are as superb as his last wife. You have grown
+ripe for love--for my love--you too are thirsty for kisses and
+embraces, even as I. O Elisaveta, love me, love me!"
+
+"How can I?" said Elisaveta.
+
+"Elisaveta, if you'd only will it!" exclaimed Piotr. "One must wish to
+love. If you only understood how I love you, you would love me also.
+My love should fire in you a responsive love."
+
+"My friend, you do not love anything that is mine," answered
+Elisaveta. "You do not love me. I don't believe you--forgive me--I
+don't understand your love."
+
+Piotr frowned gloomily and said gruffly:
+
+"You have been fascinated by that false, empty word freedom. You have
+never thought over its true meaning."
+
+"I've had little time to think over anything," observed Elisaveta
+calmly, "but the feeling of freedom is the thing nearest to me. I
+cannot express it in words--I only know that we are fettered on this
+earth by iron bonds of necessity and of circumstance, but the nature
+of my soul is freedom; its fire is consuming the chains of my material
+dependence. I know that we human beings will always be frail, poor,
+lonely; but a time will surely come when we shall pass through the
+purifying flame of a great conflagration; then a new earth and a new
+heaven shall open up to us; through union we shall attain our final
+freedom. I know I am saying all this badly, incoherently--I cannot say
+clearly what I feel--but let us, please, say no more."
+
+Elisaveta strode out of the summer-house. Piotr slowly followed her.
+His face was sad and his eyes shone feverishly, but he could not utter
+a word--inertia gripped his mind. Quite suddenly he roused himself,
+raised his head, smiled, overtook Elisaveta.
+
+"You love me, Elisaveta," he said with joyous assurance. "You love me,
+though you won't admit it. You are not speaking the truth when you say
+that you don't understand my love. You do know my love, you do believe
+in it--tell me, is it possible to love so strongly and not be loved in
+return?"
+
+Elisaveta stopped. Her eyes lit up with a strange joy.
+
+"I tell you once more," she said with calm resolution, "it is not me
+you love--you love the First Bride. I am going where I must."
+
+Piotr stood there and looked after her--helpless, pale, dejected.
+Between the bushes a sun-yellow dress fluttered against the now dull
+sky of a setting sun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Piotr and Elisaveta descended towards the boat landing. Two
+rowing-boats seemed to rock on the water, though there was no breeze
+and the water was smooth like a mirror. A little farther, behind the
+bushes, the canvas roof of the bath-house stood revealed. Elena,
+Misha, and Miss Harrison were already there. They were sitting on a
+bench halfway down the slope, where the path to the landing was
+broken. The view from here, showing the bend of the river, was very
+restful. The water was growing darker, heavier, gradually assuming a
+leadlike dullness.
+
+Misha and Elena, flushed with running, could not suppress their
+smiles. The Englishwoman looked calmly at the river, and nothing
+shocked her in the evening landscape and in the peaceful water. But
+now two persons came who brought with them their poignant unrest,
+their uneasiness, their confusion--and again an endless wrangle began.
+
+They left this bench, from which one could look into such a great
+distance and see nothing but calm and peace everywhere. They descended
+below to the very bank. Even at this close range the water was still
+and smooth, and the agitated words of the restless people did not
+cause the broad sheet to stir. Misha picked up thin, flat stones and
+threw them underhand into the distance so that, touching the water,
+they skipped repeatedly on the surface. He did this habitually
+whenever the wrangling distressed him. His hands trembled, the little
+stones ricochetted badly sometimes; this annoyed him, but he tried to
+hide his annoyance and to look cheerful.
+
+Elisaveta said:
+
+"Misha, let's see who can throw the better. Let's try for pennies."
+
+They began to play. Misha was losing.
+
+At the turn of the river, from the direction of the town, a
+rowing-boat appeared. Piotr looked searchingly into the distance, and
+said in a vexed voice:
+
+"Mr. Stchemilov, our intelligent workman, the Social Democrat of the
+Russia Party, is again about to honour us."
+
+Elisaveta smiled. She asked with gentle reproof:
+
+"Why do you dislike him so?"
+
+"No, you tell me," exclaimed Piotr, "why this party calls itself the
+Russia Party, and not the Russian Party? Why this high tone?"
+
+Elisaveta answered with her usual calm:
+
+"It is called the Russia and not the Russian Party because it includes
+not only the Russian, but also the Lithuanian, the Armenian, the Jew,
+and men of other races who happen to be citizens of Russia. It seems
+to me this is quite comprehensible."
+
+"No, I do not understand," said Piotr obstinately. "I see in it only
+unnecessary pretence."
+
+In the meantime the boat drew nearer. Two men were sitting in it.
+Aleksei Makarovitch Stchemilov, a young working man, a locksmith by
+trade, sat at the oars. He was thin and of medium height; there was a
+suggestion of irony in the shape of his lips. Elisaveta had known
+Stchemilov since the past autumn, when she became acquainted with
+other labouring men and party workmen.
+
+The boat touched the landing, and Stchemilov sprang out gracefully.
+Piotr remarked derisively as he bowed with exaggerated politeness:
+
+"My homage to the proletariat of all lands."
+
+Stchemilov answered quietly:
+
+"My most humble respects to the gentleman student."
+
+He exchanged greetings with all; then, turning with special deference
+towards Elisaveta, said:
+
+"I've rowed back your property. It was almost taken from me. Our
+suburbanites have their own conceptions of the divine rights of
+ownership."
+
+Piotr boiled over with vexation--the very sight of this young
+blouse-wearer irritated him beyond bounds; he thought Stchemilov's
+manners and speech arrogant. Piotr said sharply:
+
+"As far as I understand your notion of things, it is not rights that
+are holy, but brute force."
+
+Stchemilov whistled and said:
+
+"That is the origin of all ownership. You simply took a thing--and
+that's all there was to it. 'Blessed are the strong' is a little adage
+among those who have conquered violently."
+
+"And how did you get hold of this?" asked Piotr with derision.
+
+"Crumbs of wisdom fall from the tables of the rich even to us,"
+answered Stchemilov in a no less contemptuous tone; "we nourish
+ourselves on these small trifles."
+
+The other young man, clearly a workman also, remained in the boat. He
+looked rather timid, lean, and taciturn, and had gleaming eyes.
+
+He sat holding on to the ropes of the rudder, and was looking
+cautiously towards the bank. Stchemilov looked at him with amused
+tenderness and called to him:
+
+"Come here, Kiril, don't be afraid; there are kindly people
+here--quite disposed to us, in fact."
+
+Piotr grumbled angrily under his breath. Misha smiled. He was eager to
+see the new-comer, though he hated violent discussions. Kiril got out
+of the boat awkwardly, and no less awkwardly stood up on the sand, his
+face averted; he smiled to hide his uneasiness. Piotr's irritation
+grew.
+
+"Please be seated," he said, trying to assume a pleasant tone.
+
+"I've done a lot of sitting," answered Kiril in an artificial bass
+voice.
+
+He continued to smile, but sat down on the edge of the bench, so that
+he nearly fell over; his arms shot up into the air, and one of his
+hands brushed against Elisaveta. He felt vexed with himself, and he
+flushed. As he moved away from the edge he remarked:
+
+"I've sat two months in administrative order."[5]
+
+Every one understood these strange words. Piotr asked:
+
+"For what?"
+
+Kiril seemed embarrassed. He answered with a morose uneasiness:
+
+"It's all a very simple affair with us--you do the slightest thing,
+and they try at once the most murderous measures."
+
+At this moment Stchemilov said very quietly to Elisaveta:
+
+"Not a bad chap. He wants to become acquainted with you, comrade."
+
+Elisaveta silently inclined her head, smiled amiably at Kiril, and
+pressed his hand. His face brightened.
+
+Rameyev came up to them. He greeted his visitors pleasantly but
+coldly, giving an impression of studied correctness. The conversation
+continued somewhat awkwardly. Elisaveta's blue eyes looked gently and
+pensively at the irritated Piotr and at his deliberately inimical
+adversary Stchemilov.
+
+Piotr asked:
+
+"Mr. Stchemilov, would you care to explain to me this talk of an
+autocracy by the proletariat? You admit the need of an autocracy, but
+only wish to shift it to another centre? In what way is this an
+improvement?"
+
+Stchemilov answered quite simply:
+
+"You masters and possessors do not wish to give us anything--neither a
+fraction of an ounce of power nor of possessions; what's left for us
+to do?"
+
+"What's your immediate object?" put in Rameyev.
+
+"Immediate or ultimate--what's that!" answered Stchemilov. "We have
+only one object: the public ownership of the machinery of production."
+
+"What of the land?" cried out Piotr rather shrilly.
+
+"Yes, the land too we consider as machinery of production," answered
+Stchemilov.
+
+"You imagine that there is an infinite amount of land in Russia?"
+asked Piotr with bitter irony.
+
+"Not an infinite amount, but certainly enough to go round--and plenty
+for every one," was Stchemilov's calm reply.
+
+"Ten--or, say, a hundred--acres per soul? Is that what you mean?"
+continued Piotr in loud derision. "You've got that idea into the heads
+of the muzhiks, and now they're in revolt."
+
+Stchemilov again whistled, and said with contemptuous calm:
+
+"Fiddlesticks! The muzhik is not as stupid as all that. And in any
+case, let me ask you what hindered the opposing side from hammering
+the right ideas into the muzhik's mind?"
+
+Piotr got up angrily and strode away without saying another word.
+Rameyev looked quietly after him and said to Stchemilov:
+
+"Piotr loves culture, or, more properly speaking, civilization, too
+well to appreciate freedom. You insist too strongly on your class
+interests, and therefore freedom is no such great lure to you. But we
+Russian constitutionalists are carrying on the struggle for freedom
+almost alone."
+
+Stchemilov listened to him and made an effort to suppress an ironic
+smile.
+
+"It's true," he said, "we won't join hands with you. You wish to fly
+about in the free air; while we are still ravenously hungry and want
+to eat."
+
+Rameyev said after a brief silence:
+
+"I am appalled at this savagery. Murders every day, every day."
+
+"What's there to do?" asked Stchemilov, persisting in his ironic tone.
+"I suppose you'd like to have freedom for domestic use, the sort you
+could fold up and put in your pocket."
+
+Rameyev, making no effort to disguise his desire of closing the
+conversation, rose, smiling, and stretched out his hand to Stchemilov.
+
+"I must go now."
+
+Misha was about to follow him, but changed his mind and ran towards
+the river. He found his fishing-rod near the bath-house and entered
+the water up to his knees. He had long ago accustomed himself to go to
+the river when agitated by sadness or joy or when he had to think
+about something very seriously. He was a shy and self-sufficient boy
+and loved to be alone with his thoughts and his dreams. The coolness
+of the water running fast about his legs comforted him and banished
+evil moods. As he stood here, with his naked legs in the water, he
+became gentle and calm.
+
+Elena soon came there also. She stood silently on the bank and looked
+at the water. For some reason she felt sad and wanted to cry.
+
+The water glided past her tranquilly, almost noiselessly. Its surface
+was smooth--and thus it ran on.
+
+Elisaveta looked at Stchemilov with mild displeasure.
+
+"Why are you so sharp, Aleksei?" she asked.
+
+"You don't like it, comrade?" he asked in return.
+
+"No, I don't like it," said Elisaveta in simple, unmistakable tones.
+
+Stchemilov did not reply at once. He grew thoughtful, then said:
+
+"The abyss that separates us from your cousin is too broad. And even
+between us and your father. It is hard to come together with them.
+Their chief concern, as you very well know, is to construct a pyramid
+out of people; ours to scatter this pyramid in an even stratum over
+the earth. That's how it is, Elizaveta."
+
+Elisaveta showed her annoyance and corrected him:
+
+"_Elisaveta_. How many times have I told you?"
+
+Stchemilov smiled.
+
+"A lordly caprice, comrade Elisaveta. Well, as you like, though it is
+a trifle hard to pronounce. Now we would say Lizaveta."
+
+Kiril complained of his failures, of the police, of the detectives, of
+the patriots. His complaints were pitiful and depressing. He had been
+arrested and had lost his job. It was easy to see that he had
+suffered. The gleam of hunger trembled in his eyes.
+
+"The police treated me most horribly," complained Kiril, "and then
+there's my family...."
+
+After an awkward silence he continued:
+
+"Not a single thing escapes them at our factory, you get humiliated at
+every step. They actually search you."
+
+Again he lapsed into silence. Again he complained:
+
+"They force their way into your soul. You can't hold private
+conversations.... They stop at nothing."
+
+He told of hunger, he told of a sick old woman. All this was very
+touching, but it had lost its freshness by constant repetition--the
+pity of it had become, as it were, stamped out. Kiril, indeed, was a
+common type, whose state of mind made him valuable as material to be
+used up at an opportune moment in the interests of a political cause.
+
+Stchemilov was saying:
+
+"The Black Hundred are organizing. Zherbenev is very busy at
+this--he's one of your genuine Russians."
+
+"Kerbakh is with him--another patriot for you," observed Kiril.
+
+"The most dangerous man in our town, this Zherbenev. Vermin of the
+most foul kind," said Stchemilov contemptuously.
+
+"I am going to kill him," said Kiril hotly.
+
+To this Elisaveta said:
+
+"In order to kill a man you need to believe that one man is
+essentially better or worse than another, that he is distinct from the
+other not accidentally or socially, but in the mystic sense. That is
+to say, murder only confirms inequality."
+
+"By the way, Elisaveta," remarked Stchemilov, "we have come to talk
+business with you."
+
+"Tell me what it is," answered Elisaveta calmly.
+
+"We are expecting some comrades from Rouban within the next few days.
+They are coming to talk things over," said Stchemilov; "but of course
+you know all that."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Elisaveta.
+
+"We want to use the occasion," went on Stchemilov, "to organize a mass
+meeting not far from here for our town factory folk. So here, at last,
+is your chance to appear as an orator."
+
+"How can I be of any use?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+"You have the gift of expression, Elisaveta," said Stchemilov. "You
+have a good voice, an easy flow of language, and you have a way of
+putting the case simply and clearly. It would be a sin for you not to
+speak."
+
+"We will bring down the Cadets[6] a peg or two," said Kiril in his
+bass voice.
+
+"You'll forgive Kiril, comrade Elisaveta," said Stchemilov. "I don't
+think he knows that your father is a Cadet. Besides, he's a rather
+simple, frank fellow."
+
+Kiril grew red.
+
+"I know so little," said Elisaveta timidly. "What shall I talk about,
+and how?"
+
+"You know enough," said the other confidently; "more than myself and
+Kiril put together. You do things remarkably well. Everything you say
+is so clear and accurate."
+
+"What shall I talk about?"
+
+"You can draw a picture of the general condition of working men,"
+answered Stchemilov, "and how capital is forging a hammer against
+itself and compelling labour to organize."
+
+Elisaveta grew red and silently inclined her head.
+
+"Then it's all settled, comrade?" asked Stchemilov.
+
+Elisaveta burst into a laugh.
+
+"Yes, settled," she exclaimed cheerfully.
+
+It was good to hear this gravely and simply pronounced word "comrade."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+The sweet, quiet night came, and brought her enchantments. The weary
+din of day lost itself in oblivion. The clear, tranquil, anaemic moon
+encircled herself with her own radiance, basked in her own light. She
+looked at the earth and did not dissipate the mist--it was as if she
+had taken to herself all the brightness and translucence of the sun's
+last afterglow. A calm poured itself out upon the earth and upon the
+water, and embraced every tree, every bush, every blade of grass.
+
+A soothing mood took possession of Elisaveta. It struck her as strange
+that they should have quarrelled and stood facing one another like
+enemies. Why shouldn't she love him? Why not give herself up to him,
+submit to the will of another, make it her will? Why all this noisy
+discussion, these fine, yet remote words about a struggle, about
+ideals?
+
+Every one in the house, she thought, was tired--was it with the heat?
+With wrangling? With a secret sorrow inducing sleep, soothingness? The
+sisters went to their rooms somewhat earlier than usual. Fatigue and a
+languorous sadness oppressed them. The sisters' bedrooms were next to
+each other, one entering the other by a wide, always open door. They
+could hear one another. The even breathing of her sleeping sister gave
+a poignant reality to the terrible world of night and slumber.
+
+Elisaveta and Elena did not converse long that night. They parted
+early. Elisaveta undressed herself, lit a candle, and began to admire
+herself in the cold, dead, indifferent mirror. Pearl-like were the
+moon's reflections on the lines of her graceful body. Palpitating were
+her white girlish breasts, crowned by two rubies. The living,
+passionate form stood flaming and throbbing, strangely white in the
+tranquil rays of the moon. The gradual curves of the body and legs
+were precise and delicate. The skin stretched across the knees hinted
+at the elastic energy that it covered. And equally elastic and
+energetic were the curves of the calves and the feet.
+
+Elisaveta's body flamed all over, as though a fire had penetrated the
+whole sweet, sensitive flesh; and oh, how she wished to press, to
+cling, to embrace! If he would only come! Only by day he spoke to her
+his dead-sounding words of love, kindled by the kisses of the accursed
+Dragon. Oh, if he would only come by night to the secretly flaming
+great Fire of the blossoming Flesh!
+
+Did he love her? Was his a final and a single-souled love conquering
+by the eternal spirit of the divine Aphrodite? Where love is there
+daring should be also. Is love, then, gentle, meek, obedient? Is it
+not a flame, decreed to take what is its own without waiting?
+
+Her eager, impatient fancies seethed. If he only had come he would
+have been a young god. But he was only a human being who bowed down
+before his idol; he was a small slave of a small demon. He did not
+come, he had not dared, he had not guessed: a dark grief came over
+Elisaveta from the secret seething of her passion.
+
+As she looked at her wonderful image in the mirror, Elisaveta thought:
+
+"Perhaps he is praying. The weak and the haughty--why do they pray?
+They should be taught to be joyous, to remake their religion and be
+the first in the new sect."
+
+Elisaveta could not sleep. Desire tormented her; she did not know what
+she wanted--was it to go?--to wait? She walked out on the balcony. The
+nocturnal coolness caressed her naked body. She stood there long; the
+contact of her naked feet with the warm, moist boards was pleasant.
+She looked into the pale light of the mist-wrapt garden dreaming there
+under the moon. She recalled at this moment the details of the day's
+walk, and all that they had seen in Trirodov's house; she recalled it
+all so clearly, with almost the vividness of a hallucination. Then a
+drowsiness crept up, seized her. And Elisaveta could not recall later
+how she found herself in her bed. It was almost as if an invisible
+being had carried her, tucked her in, and rocked her to sleep.
+
+It was a restless, tormenting sleep. She saw horrible visions,
+nightmares. They were remarkably clear and real.
+
+She was in a very dusty room. The air in it was stifling, it oppressed
+her breast. The walls were covered with bookcases filled with books.
+The tables were also covered with books--all new, slender, with bright
+covers. The title-pages were for some reason ponderous, terrible to
+look at. A tall, gaunt, long-haired student entered; his hair was very
+straight, his face morose and grey, he wore spectacles. He whispered:
+
+"Hide them."
+
+And he placed on the table a bundle of books and pamphlets. Some one
+behind Elisaveta stretched out a hand, took the books, and thrust them
+under the table. Then came a woman student, strangely resembling the
+man student yet quite different; she was short, thick, red-cheeked,
+short-haired, cheerful, and wore pince-nez. She also brought a bundle
+of books, and said quietly:
+
+"Hide them."
+
+Elisaveta hid the books in the bookcase and was afraid of something.
+
+Then came more students, working men, young women, schoolboys,
+military men, officials, and clerks; each, placing a packet of books
+on the table, whispered:
+
+"Hide them."
+
+Each one slipped away. And Elisaveta went to work to hide the books.
+She put them in the table drawer, in the cupboard, under the sofas,
+behind the doors, and in the fireplace. But the pile of books on the
+table grew and grew; more and more persistent became the whisper:
+
+"Hide them."
+
+There was no hiding-place left, and yet the books were still being
+brought in--there was no end to them. Everywhere books--they were
+pressing on her breast....
+
+Elisaveta awakened. Some one's face was bending over her. The bedcover
+slipped from her handsome body. Elena was whispering something.
+Elisaveta asked her in a drowsy voice:
+
+"Did I wake you?"
+
+"You cried out so," said Elena.
+
+"I've had such a stupid dream," whispered Elisaveta.
+
+She went to sleep again, and again the same hoard of books. There were
+so many books that even the window-sills were piled up with them, and
+a dim and dusty gleam of light barely penetrated. An ominous silence
+tormented her. Behind the counter at her side stood a student and two
+boys, strangely erect; they were pale, and seemed to wait for
+something. All at once the door opened noiselessly. Many men entered,
+making a loud noise with their boots--first a police official, then
+another, then a detective in gold-rimmed spectacles, a house-porter,
+another house-porter, a muzhik, a policeman, another muzhik, another
+house-porter. More and more came; they filled the room, and still they
+came--huge, moody, silent fellows. Elisaveta felt it stifling; she
+awoke.
+
+Again she dropped into sleep, again she was tormented by horrible
+visions oppressing the breast.
+
+She dreamt that the house was being searched.
+
+"An illegal book!" exclaimed a detective, looking ominously at her as
+he put a book on the table.
+
+The pile of the illegal books on the table began to grow. They were
+examined and shaken. A police official sat down to make out a list.
+The pen ran on, but there was not enough paper.
+
+"More paper!" cried the official.
+
+Page was filled after page. The official mocked at her, threatened her
+with a revolver.
+
+Once more she awoke, once more she fell asleep. And still another
+dream.
+
+A small, frail schoolmaster with a squeaky voice came. Then another, a
+third, and still others--an endless flock of peaceful men with wails
+of revolt.
+
+And yet another dream.
+
+The city square was bathed in the bright sunlight. A muzhik appeared
+and shouted at the top of his voice:
+
+"Hey there! Stand up for your gov'r-ment, and for holy Russia!"
+
+Another muzhik came in answer to his shout, then a third and a fourth.
+Slowly and steadily the crowd grew, the turmoil increased. A muzhik in
+a white apron wearing a conspicuous emblem[7] made his way through the
+crowd and, screwing up his mouth, cried like a madman:
+
+"For Rush-ya, I say, fel-lows, kill 'em!"
+
+He threw himself on Elisaveta and began to strangle her.
+
+She awoke.
+
+Again there was a dark, terrible dream. Nothing as yet was to be seen,
+it was hard to tell what was happening. But fear filled the intense
+darkness. Dark figures seemed to throng in it. The darkness cleared a
+little, the atmosphere became ominously grey. A narrow courtyard
+slowly outlined itself, flanked by high walls with windows closely
+intersected by bars. Her heart whispered audibly:
+
+"A prison. A prison courtyard."
+
+Out of a narrow door prisoners were being conducted into the still
+dark courtyard on a cold early morning in winter. They walked in
+single file--a soldier, a prisoner, a soldier, a prisoner, a
+soldier--there seemed to be no end to it; there was a steady shuffling
+of feet across the courtyard. A small gate opened in the wall with a
+creaking sound. All walked through it. And beyond the wall Elisaveta
+already caught a glimpse of a flat, endless field of snow, and of a
+whole row of gallows that stretched into the invisible distance. They
+were approaching these nearer and nearer--to meet their fate.
+
+She could not remember how it happened, but she also walked with them.
+A soldier strode in front of her and in front of the soldier was a
+boy. Though the boy had his back to her she recognized him--it was
+Misha. Terror paralysed her tongue--when she tried to cry out she
+could not find her voice. Terror fettered her feet--when she tried to
+run she remained rooted to the spot. Terror gripped her arms--when she
+tried to lift them they hung helplessly at her sides.
+
+People were being hanged at the nearest gallows and the prisoners had
+to walk past the hanged ones to the gallows beyond. Misha was being
+hanged, but he broke loose. He was hanged again, and again he broke
+loose. This happened an endless number of times, and each time he
+broke loose.
+
+She could see a furious face and the grey bristles of trimmed
+moustaches. She could hear the malignant cry:
+
+"We must finish him off!"
+
+A shot was fired; there was a low, dull discharge: the boy fell and
+began to toss on the ground. Another shot--the boy kept on tossing.
+The shots came faster--but the boy was still alive.
+
+Elisaveta awoke; this time she did not go to sleep again. Her heart
+beat half with pain, half with joy, because it was but a dream--but a
+dream! Her heart was bright with exultant joy.
+
+The golden arrows of the yet quiet and gentle Dragon fell softly with
+sidelong glances. Evidently it was still early. In the distance
+Elisaveta could hear the sound of a horn and the lowing of cows. The
+bedroom walls were tinged with rose light. The early light stole in
+through the windows and messaged an altogether new, better day. A
+refreshing breeze blew in through the open window, the twitter of
+birds also entered, the air resounded with early morning joy.
+
+Elisaveta was soon aware that Elena was also awake.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Both sisters had slept badly that night. Elisaveta was worn out by
+nightmares, while Elena woke several times and went to her. Both felt
+the sweet after-dizziness of sleep suddenly cut short by the Dragon's
+sickles. Their memories pursued one another in a confused, vivid
+flock. They began to recall the circumstances of yesterday's visit. A
+secret agitation, akin to shame, stole over them. Little by little
+they conquered this feeling during the day. Alone again, they
+discussed what they had seen at Trirodov's. A strange forgetfulness
+came upon them. The details of the visit grew more vague the more they
+tried to recall them. They found themselves in constant disagreement,
+and corrected one another. It might have been a dream. Now it seemed
+one, now the other. Was it reality or a dream? Where is the
+border-line? Whether life be a sweet or a bitter dream, it passes by
+like a swift vision!
+
+Three days passed by. Again the day was quiet and clear, again the
+high Dragon smiled his malignant, excessively bright smile. He
+counted, as he rose, his livid seconds, his flaming minutes; and he
+let fall upon the earth, with a scarcely perceptible echo, his
+lead-heavy but transparent hours. It was three o'clock in the
+afternoon; they had just finished luncheon. The Rameyevs and the
+Matovs were at home. Again Elisaveta wrangled with Piotr and, as
+before, the discussion was long, heated and discordant--every one left
+the table flustered and depressed; the hopeless confusion of it all
+deeply affected even the usually composed Miss Harrison.
+
+The sisters were left by themselves. They went out on the lower
+balcony and pretended to read. They appeared to be waiting for
+something. This waiting made their hearts beat fast under their
+heaving breasts.
+
+Elisaveta, letting the book fall upon her knees, was the first to
+break the heavy silence.
+
+"I think he is coming to-day."
+
+The breeze blew at that moment, there was a rustle in the foliage and
+a little bird suddenly began to chirp away somewhere--and it seemed as
+if the depressed garden were glad because of these lively, resonant,
+quickly uttered words.
+
+"Who?" asked Elena.
+
+The insincerity of her question made her flush quite suddenly. She
+knew very well whom Elisaveta meant. The latter glanced at her and
+said:
+
+"Trirodov, of course. It is strange that we should be waiting for
+him."
+
+"I think he promised to come," said Elena indecisively.
+
+"Yes," answered Elisaveta, "I think he said something at that strange
+mirror."
+
+"It was earlier," observed Elena.
+
+"Yes, I am mixing it all up," said Elisaveta. "I don't understand how
+I could forget so quickly."
+
+"I too am tangling things up badly," confessed Elena, astonished at
+herself. "I feel very tired, I don't know why."
+
+The soft noise of wheels over a sandy road grew closer and closer. At
+last a light trap, drawn by a horse in English harness, could be seen
+turning into the alley of birches and stopping before the house. The
+sisters rose nervously. Their faces wore their habitually pleasant
+smiles and their hands did not tremble.
+
+Trirodov gave the reins to Kirsha, who drove away.
+
+The meeting proved an embarrassing one. The sisters' agitation was
+evident in their polite, empty phrases. They entered the drawing-room.
+Presently Rameyev, accompanied by the Matov brothers, came in to
+welcome the guest. There was the usual exchange of compliments, of
+meaningless phrases--as everywhere, as always.
+
+Piotr was uneasy and hostile. He spoke abruptly and with evident
+unwillingness. Misha looked on with curiosity. He liked Trirodov--he
+had already heard something about him which assured pleasant relations
+between them.
+
+The conversation developed rapidly and politely. Not a word was said
+about the sisters' visit to Trirodov.
+
+"We've heard a great deal about you," began Rameyev, "I'm glad to know
+you."
+
+Trirodov smiled, and his smile seemed slightly derisive. Elisaveta
+remarked:
+
+"I suppose you think our being glad to see you merely a polite
+phrase."
+
+There was sharpness in her voice. Elisaveta, realizing this, suddenly
+flushed. Rameyev looked at her in astonishment.
+
+"No, I don't think that," put in Trirodov. "There's real pleasure in
+meeting."
+
+"That's the usual thing to say in polite society," said Piotr quietly.
+
+Trirodov glanced at him with a smile and turned to Rameyev.
+
+"I say it in all sincerity, I am glad to have made your acquaintance.
+I live very much alone and so am all the more glad of the fortunate
+circumstance that has brought me here on a matter of business."
+
+"Business?" asked Rameyev in astonishment.
+
+"I can put the matter in a few words," said Trirodov. "I wish to
+extend my estate."
+
+There was a tinge of sadness in Rameyev's answer:
+
+"You have bought the better part of the Prosianiya Meadows."
+
+Trirodov said:
+
+"It's not quite large enough. I should like to acquire the rest of
+it--for my colony."
+
+"I shouldn't like to let the rest go," remarked Rameyev. "It belongs
+to Piotr and Misha."
+
+"As far as it concerns me," put in Piotr, "I'd sell my share with the
+greatest pleasure before those 'comrade' fellows take it from me for
+nothing."
+
+Misha was silent, but it was evident that the thought of selling his
+native soil was distasteful to him. He seemed on the point of bursting
+into tears.
+
+"In my opinion," observed Rameyev, "the land needn't be sold. I
+shouldn't advise it. I wouldn't think of selling Misha's share until
+he came of age--and I shouldn't advise you to sell yours either,
+Piotr."
+
+Misha, gladdened, glanced gratefully at Rameyev, who continued:
+
+"I can direct you to another plot of land which happens to be on sale.
+I hope it will suit your needs."
+
+Trirodov thanked him.
+
+His educational institution now became the topic of conversation.
+
+"Your school, of course, brings you into contact with the Headmaster
+of the National Schools. How do you manage to get along with him?"
+asked Rameyev.
+
+Trirodov smiled contemptuously.
+
+"Not at all," he said.
+
+"A clumsy person, this fellow with his feminine voice," went on
+Rameyev. "He's an ambitious, cold-blooded man. He's likely to do you
+an injury."
+
+"I'm used to it," answered Trirodov calmly. "We are all used to it."
+
+"They might close your school," suggested Piotr in a tone of sharp
+derision.
+
+"And again they might not," asserted Trirodov.
+
+"But if they should?" persisted Piotr.
+
+"Let us hope for the best," said Rameyev.
+
+Elisaveta looked affectionately at her father. But Trirodov said
+quietly in his own defence:
+
+"The school might be closed, but it is hard to prevent any one from
+living on the soil and running a farm. If the school should cease
+being a mere school and become an educational farm, it would succeed
+in replacing the large farms as they are now run by their
+proprietors."
+
+"But that is Utopia," said Piotr in some irritation.
+
+"Very well, then, we'll establish Utopia," said Trirodov, unruffled.
+
+"But as a beginning you hope to destroy what exists?" asked Piotr.
+
+"Why?" exclaimed Trirodov, astonished.
+
+Strangely agitated, Piotr said:
+
+"The comrades' proposed division of land, if carried into force, would
+lead to a crushing of culture and science."
+
+"I don't understand this alarm for science and culture," replied
+Trirodov. "Both one and the other are sufficiently strong to stand up
+for themselves."
+
+"Nevertheless," argued Piotr, "monuments of civilization are being
+demolished by this _Kham_[8] who is trying to replace us."
+
+"It is not our monuments of civilization alone that are being
+destroyed," retorted Trirodov patiently. "This is very sad, of course,
+and proper measures should be taken. But the sufferings of the people
+are so great.... The value of human life is, after all, greater than
+the value of such monuments."
+
+In this peculiarly Russian manner the conversation quickly passed on
+to general themes. Trirodov, who took a large share in it, spoke with
+a calm assurance. They listened to him with deep attention.
+
+Of his five auditors only Piotr was not captivated. He was tormented
+by a feeling of hostility to Trirodov. He glanced at Trirodov with
+suspicion and hate. He was exasperated by Trirodov's confident tone
+and facile speech. Piotr's remarks addressed to the visitor were often
+caustic, even coarse. Rameyev looked vexed at Piotr now and then, but
+Trirodov appeared not to notice his sallies, and was simple, tranquil,
+and courteous. In the end Piotr was compelled to restrain himself and
+abandon his sharp manner. Then he grew silent altogether. After
+Trirodov's departure Piotr left the room. It was evident that he did
+not wish to join in any discussion about the visitor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+The day was hot, sultry, windless--helplessly prostrate before the
+arrowed glances of the infuriated Dragon. A number of city folk sought
+coolness on the float, as the buffet at the steamboat-landing was
+called in Skorodozh. It was less oppressive under the canvas roof of
+the float, where at intervals gusts of breeze came from the river.
+
+Piotr and Misha were in town to do some shopping. They stopped on the
+float to get a glass of lemonade. A steamboat had just come in below
+them. It began to unload the passengers and wares it brought from
+neighbouring manufacturing towns. It was the boat's last
+stopping-point, the river higher up being too shallow. For a while
+there was much bustle and noise on the float. The little tables were
+soon occupied by townsfolk and new arrivals, chiefly officials and
+landlords. They drank wine and talked loudly, though peacefully; they
+shouted in the provincial manner, and it was easy to hear that many of
+the conversations touched more or less on political themes.
+
+Two men who sat at one table were in evident agreement, yet spoke in
+tones of anger. They were the retired District Attorney Kerbakh and
+the retired Colonel Zherbenev, both large land-proprietors and
+patriots--members of the Union of Russian People.[9] Their speech was
+loud and vehement, and interpolated with such strange words and
+phrases as "treachery," "sedition," "hang them," "wipe them out,"
+"give it to them."
+
+Nikolai Ilyitch Kerbakh was a small, thin, puny-looking man. The long,
+drooping moustache on his otherwise clean-shaven face seemed to be
+there merely to add to its already savage appearance. He rocked in his
+chair as he lazily stretched himself. His large coat hung about his
+shoulders like a bag, his highly coloured waistcoat was unbuttoned,
+his string necktie hung loose, half undone. Altogether he had the look
+of a man who would not let such small trifles stand in the way of his
+comfort. Near him, fidgeting restlessly in his chair, was his son, a
+slobbering, black-toothed youngster of eight, with a flagging,
+carmine-red under-lip.
+
+Andrey Lavrentyevitch Zherbenev, a tall, lank man with an important
+air, sat motionless and erect as though he were nailed to his chair,
+and surveyed those round him with a stern glance. His white linen
+coat, with all its buttons fastened, sat on him as on a bronze idol.
+
+"In everything, I say, the parents are to blame," continued Kerbakh in
+the same savage voice as before. "It is necessary to instil the right
+ideas from very childhood. Now look at my children...."
+
+And he shouted at his son with unnecessary loudness, though the two
+sat almost nudging each other:
+
+"Sergey!"
+
+"Yeth?" lisped the slobbering boy.
+
+"Stand up before me and answer."
+
+The youngster slipped off his chair, stretched himself smartly to his
+full height in front of his father, and lisped again:
+
+"Yeth, father?"
+
+And he surveyed those sitting at the other tables with a quick, sly
+look.
+
+"What should be done with the enemies of the Tsar and the Fatherland?"
+asked Kerbakh.
+
+"They should be destroyed!" answered the boy alertly.
+
+"And afterwards?" continued his father.
+
+The boy quickly repeated the words he had studied:
+
+"And afterwards the foul corpses of the vile enemies of the Fatherland
+should be thrown on the dunghill."
+
+Kerbakh and Zherbenev laughed gleefully.
+
+"That describes them--foul carrion, that's what they are!" said
+Zherbenev in a hoarse voice.
+
+A new-comer at the next table, a stranger apparently to those present,
+was giving an order for a bottle of beer. Of middle age and medium
+height, he was stout, or rather flabby; he had small glittering eyes;
+and his dress had seen much wear. Kerbakh and Zherbenev gave him an
+occasional passing glance, not of a very friendly nature. As though
+they took it for granted that the stranger held antagonistic views,
+they increased the vehemence of their speeches and spoke more and more
+furiously of agitators and of Little Mother Russia, and mentioned, by
+the way, a number of local undesirables, Trirodov among them.
+
+The new-comer scrutinized the two speakers for a long time. It was
+evident that the name of Trirodov, often repeated in Kerbakh's
+remarks, aroused an intense interest, even agitation, in the stranger.
+His fixed scrutiny of his two neighbours at last attracted their
+attention and they exchanged annoyed glances.
+
+Then the stranger ventured to join in their conversation.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, "unless I am mistaken, you were speaking
+of Mr. Trirodov--am I right?"
+
+"My dear sir, you...." began Kerbakh.
+
+The new-comer immediately jumped to his feet and began to apologize
+profusely.
+
+"May I impose upon your good nature to forgive my impertinent
+curiosity. I am Ostrov, the actor--tragedian. You may have heard of
+me?"
+
+"For the first time," said Kerbakh surlily.
+
+"I've never heard the name," said Zherbenev.
+
+The stranger smiled pleasantly, as if he had been commended, and
+continued to speak without showing the slightest embarrassment:
+
+"Well--er--I've played in many cities. I'm just passing through here.
+I'm on my way to attend to some personal business in the Rouban
+Government. And you just happened to mention a name very familiar to
+me."
+
+Kerbakh and Zherbenev exchanged glances. Malignant thoughts about
+Trirodov again took possession of their minds. Ostrov continued:
+
+"I had no suspicion that Trirodov lived here. He is a very old and
+intimate acquaintance of mine. I might say we are friends."
+
+"So-o," said Zherbenev severely, glancing at Ostrov with disapproval.
+
+Something in Ostrov's voice and manner aroused their antagonism. His
+glance was certainly impudent. Indeed his words and his whole
+demeanour were provokingly arrogant. But it was impossible to be rude
+with him. His words were proper enough in themselves.
+
+"We haven't met for some years," Ostrov went on. "How does he manage
+to get on?"
+
+"Mr. Trirodov is to all appearances a rich man," said Kerbakh
+unwillingly.
+
+"A rich man? That's agreeable news. In fact, this wealth of Mr.
+Trirodov's is of comparatively recent origin. I'm quite sure of that.
+Of recent origin, I assure you," repeated Ostrov, giving a sly wink.
+
+"And not of the cleanest?" asked Kerbakh.
+
+He winked at Zherbenev. The latter made a grimace and chuckled. Ostrov
+looked cautiously at Kerbakh.
+
+"Why do you assume so?" he asked. "No-o, I shouldn't say that. Quite
+clean. Indeed, I can assure you of its clean origin," he repeated with
+peculiar emphasis.
+
+Misha looked with curiosity at the speakers. He wished to hear
+something about Trirodov. But Piotr quickly paid his bill and rose to
+go. Kerbakh tried to hold him.
+
+"Here's a friend of your friend Trirodov," he said.
+
+"I haven't yet had time to become a friend of Trirodov's," Piotr
+answered sharply, "and I don't intend to. As for his friends, nearly
+every one has his more or less strange acquaintance."
+
+And he quickly left with Misha. Ostrov glanced after him with a smile
+and said:
+
+"A grave young man."
+
+"Mr. Trirodov has bought some land belonging to him and his brother,"
+explained Kerbakh.
+
+Piotr Matov's hostility to Trirodov evidently had its roots in the
+chance circumstance that Trirodov had bought the house and part of the
+estate, the Prosianiya Meadows, which formerly belonged to the
+paternal Matov.
+
+Many in the town of Skorodozh remembered very well Dmitry
+Alexandrovitch Matov, the father of Piotr and Mikhail Matov. He had
+been a member of the local District Council for a single term, and was
+not chosen again. He could not hide his connexions and his affairs,
+and lost his reputation, though the scandal was hushed up. This
+happened when times were still quiet. During his term of office he
+paid visits to the governor more often than necessary.
+
+About the same time, in response to some one's complaint, the
+President of the District Council had been dispatched "in
+administrative order" to the Olonetsk Government. There were dark
+rumours about Matov. At the next election a few votes were given in
+his favour, but not enough. He ceased to have any connexion with the
+District Council.
+
+Matov's money affairs were in a bad state. He led a heedless life,
+dissipated, and roamed from place to place. Bold, headstrong,
+unrestrained, he lived only for his own pleasure. More than once he
+squandered all--to the last farthing. But invariably he found sudden
+means again, no one knew how, and again he would lead a dissipated,
+gay, profligate life. His estate was mortgaged and re-mortgaged. His
+relations with the peasants began to be unbearable. Their own
+difficulties and his temper led to constant disputes. A reign of spite
+began: the cattle were driven into the corn, some of the buildings
+were set afire, some of the peasants were gaoled.
+
+The Prosianiya Meadows more than once passed from a period of lavish
+prosperity to a state of complete and hopeless poverty. This was
+because Matov was lucky enough to fall heir to several inheritances.
+Not only did people say that luck was on his side, but they also
+hinted at forged wills, strangled aunts, and poisoned children. Dark
+adventures of some sort enriched and ruined Matov by turns. It was all
+like some dubious, fantastic game of chance....
+
+During the lean days the ingeniously constructed buildings on his
+estate were in a state of disrepair, the live stock showed decrease,
+the wheat was got rid of quickly and cheaply, the wood was sold for a
+trifling sum for lumber, the labourers were not paid for the work they
+had done. On the other hand, during prosperous days, following the
+death of some relative, things used to pick up in a marvellous way.
+Companies of carpenters, masons, roofers, and painters would make
+their appearance. The owner's fancies were swiftly and energetically
+carried out. Money was spent lavishly, without reckoning the cost.
+
+Dmitry Alexandrovitch Matov was already forty years old, and many
+dark, mad misdeeds weighed on his shoulders, when, quite unexpectedly
+to all and possibly to himself, he married a young girl with excellent
+means and a dark past. There was a report that she had been the
+mistress of a dignitary, who had begun to grow weary of her. She
+managed, none the less, to keep up her connexions and to collect
+capital. She would have been very beautiful but for a strange
+stain--as from fire--on her left cheek, which disfigured her. This
+spot was very conspicuous and completely marred the beauty of her
+face.
+
+Very shortly a fierce hatred arose between husband and wife, no one
+knew why. The gossips said he was disappointed in his expectations,
+while she had found out about his mistresses and revels and had got
+wind of the dark rumours about his inheritances. The quarrels grew
+more frequent. Quite often he left his home, and always suddenly. Once
+he took all valuables with him and decamped, leaving with his wife
+only his mortgaged estate, his debts, and their two sons. A short time
+afterwards all sorts of reports came in about him. Some had seen him
+in Odessa, others in Manchuria. Later even rumours ceased.
+
+Then came the unexpected news of his death in a remote southern town.
+Its cause remained unknown. Even his body had not been found. It was
+only certain that he had been lured into an empty, uninhabited
+house--there all trace of him was lost.
+
+Matov's widow soon died from a sudden, sharp illness. Her sons
+remained in the house of Rameyev. He became their guardian.
+
+"He's an agitator and a conspirator," said Zherbenev sharply.
+
+Ostrov smiled.
+
+"All the same, I must stand up for my friend. Pardon me if I ask the
+question: are these calumnies against my friend actuated by patriotic
+reasons? Of course, from the most honourable impulses!"
+
+"I do not take up my time with calumnies," said Zherbenev dryly.
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. But I'll not intrude upon you any longer. I'm
+very grateful for the pleasant conversation and for the interesting
+information."
+
+Ostrov left them. Kerbakh and Zherbenev quietly discussed him.
+
+"What a strange-looking man! Quite a beast!"
+
+"Yes, what a character! I shouldn't like to meet him alone in the
+woods."
+
+"Our poet and doctor of chemistry has fine friends, I must say!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Elisaveta and Elena were walking again on a path close to the road
+that connected the Prosianiya Meadows and the Rameyev estate. The
+sisters were glad that it was so still and deserted around them and
+that the turmoil of life seemed so remote from them. Life with all its
+bustling movement seemed indeed distant, and it was a joy to dismiss
+all its conditions and proprieties from their minds and to walk with
+bare feet upon the soft ground, the sand, the clay, and the grass; it
+filled their hearts with a simple, childlike, and chaste delight.
+
+Both were dressed alike, in short frocks; there was a sash raised
+rather high at the waist, two other bands crossed each other at the
+breast, the sleeves were cut quite short at the shoulders.
+
+They walked on farther, and their eyes contemplated gaily and
+affectionately the half-hidden depths of the valleys, the woods, and
+the thickets. A simple-hearted devotion to this lovable nature
+possessed them--it was a sweet and tender devotion. It struck a deep
+note in Elisaveta, who was in a mood of expectancy. If only she could
+have met some one deserving of her love whom she might place at the
+crossings of all earthly and heavenly roads, and to whom she might do
+obeisance!
+
+This tender devotion aroused young virginal intoxication in Elena
+also. She felt herself in love--not with any one in particular, but
+with everything: as the air loves in the springtime, kissing all in
+its gladness; as a stream's currents love when they brush caressingly
+past boys' and girls' pink knees--such were the currents of the stream
+that suddenly became visible, winding its way among the green in the
+direction of the River Skorodyen, into which it emptied itself.
+
+The bridge was some way off, and so the sisters waded the stream.
+There was the delicious coolness of the water round their knees. They
+remained standing on the bank and admired the porcupines of sand,
+studded sparsely with tall blades of grass as with spines; also the
+round pebbles made smooth by the water. Their cooled legs felt for
+some time afterwards the sensation of the water's loving caresses.
+
+Just as the running water falls in love with all beauty that is
+immersed in it, so Elena fell in love with all that her vision evoked
+for her.
+
+Most of all her love was directed towards Piotr. His love for
+Elisaveta wounded her with a sweet pain.
+
+The sisters descended into the hollow near Trirodov's colony, ascended
+it again to the other side, walked along the already familiar path,
+and opened the gate--this time it yielded without effort. They
+entered. Soon they saw a lake before them. The children and their
+instructresses were bathing. There was a spirit of buoyancy in the
+brown nakedness disporting itself in the buoyant waters--buoyant were
+the splashes, the laughter, and the outcries!
+
+The children and the instructresses walked out of the water upon the
+dry ground and ran naked upon the sand. Their legs, bare and sunburnt,
+seemed white in the green grass, like young birch-saplings growing out
+of the earth.
+
+They suddenly caught sight of the sisters, formed a ring of beautiful
+wet bodies around them, and twirled in a circle at a fast, furious
+pace. The discarded clothes that lay there close by seemed unnecessary
+to the sisters at that moment. What, after all, was more beautiful and
+lovely than the nude, eternal body?
+
+The sisters learnt afterwards that they more often walked about naked
+here than in their clothes.
+
+The radiantly sad Nadezhda said to them:
+
+"To lull the beast to sleep and to awaken the human being--that is the
+reason of our nakedness."
+
+The dark, black-haired Maria said with ecstasy:
+
+"We have bared our feet in order to come in closer contact with the
+earth; we have become simple and happy, like people in the first
+garden. We have discarded our clothes in order to come closer to the
+elements. Caressed by these, clothed by the fire of the sun's rays, we
+have discovered the human being in us. This being is not the uncouth
+beast thirsting for blood, or the townsman counting his profits--it is
+the human being, clean in body and alive with love."
+
+So natural, indispensable, and inevitable seemed the nakedness of
+these young, beautiful bodies that it appeared rather stupid to put on
+one's clothes afterwards. The sisters joined in with the naked
+dancers, and went into the water and lay on the grass under the trees.
+It was pleasant to feel the beauty, the grace, and the agility of
+their bodies among these other twirling, beautiful, strong bodies.
+
+Elisaveta's observant glance detected two types among the girl
+instructresses. There were the rapturous ones and the dissembling
+ones.
+
+The rapturous ones gave themselves up with a bacchic joy to a life
+lived in the embrace of chaste nature: they fervently carried out all
+the rites of the colony, joyously divested themselves of all fear and
+shame, made great efforts and self-denials; and they laughed and they
+flamed, overcome by a passionate thirst of noble actions and of
+love--a thirst which not all the waters of this poor earth can quench.
+Among this number were the sad Nadezhda and the ecstatic Maria.
+
+The others, the dissembling ones, were those who had sold their time
+and had parted with all their habits, inclinations, and proprieties
+for money. They pretended that they loved children, simple life, and
+bodily beauty. They did not find it hard to dissemble, for the others
+served them as excellent models.
+
+This time the sisters were shown the buildings of the colony, or at
+least as much of them as they could see in an hour, and all sorts of
+things made by the children--books and pictures--things that belonged
+to this or that child. They were shown the fruit-orchard and the
+garden-beds, above which the bees buzzed; and the air was fresh with
+the honeyed aroma of flowers half lost in the tender softness of
+profuse grasses.
+
+But the sisters soon left.
+
+They had intended to go home, but somehow they lost their way among
+the paths and found themselves in sight of Trirodov's house. Elisaveta
+espied the high turrets rising above the white wall and recalled
+Trirodov's neither young nor handsome face: she became suffused with a
+sweet passion, as with a rich wine--but it was an emotion not free
+from pain.
+
+Before they realized it they were quite close to the white wall, near
+the ponderous closed gates. The small gate was open. A quiet, white
+boy was looking at the sisters through the crevice with an inviting
+glance. The sisters exchanged irresolute glances.
+
+"Shall we go in, Vetochka[10]?" asked Elena.
+
+"Yes, let's go in," said Elisaveta.
+
+The sisters entered and found themselves in the garden. They found old
+Elikonida at the entrance. She was sitting on the bench near the small
+gate and was mumbling something slowly and indistinctly. Evidently no
+one was there to listen to her. Perhaps the old woman was talking to
+herself.
+
+Old Elikonida was first engaged to nurse Kirsha; now she carried out
+the duties of a housekeeper. She had always been austere and never
+wasted a word in speaking with people. The sisters tried to draw her
+into conversation; they wanted to ask her things, about the ways of
+the house, the habits of Trirodov--they were such inquisitive girls!
+Elena asked many questions, although Elisaveta tried to restrain her;
+but they found out nothing. The old woman looked past the sisters and
+mumbled in answer to all questions:
+
+"I know what I know. I have seen what I have seen."
+
+The quiet children approached them. They stood motionless and
+inanimate in the shade of the old trees, and looked at the sisters
+with a fixed, expressionless stare. The sisters felt uncomfortable and
+made haste to depart. They could hear behind them the austere mumbling
+of Elikonida:
+
+"I've seen what I've seen."
+
+And the quiet children laughed their quiet, quiet laughter, which was
+truly like the sudden rustle of autumn leaves all aflutter in the air.
+
+The sisters walked home silently. They found the right path and walked
+without blundering. The evening darkness was coming on. They made
+haste. The warm, damp earth clung to their feet and seemed to hinder
+their movements.
+
+They were not far from their own house when they suddenly came upon
+Ostrov in the woods. He seemed to be on the look-out for something as
+he walked. When he saw the sisters he turned aside and stood behind
+the trees; then he strode forward quickly and faced them with an
+unexpected suddenness that made Elena shudder and Elisaveta frown.
+Ostrov bowed to them with derisive politeness and said:
+
+"May I ask you something, fair ladies?"
+
+Elisaveta surveyed him calmly and said without haste:
+
+"What is it?"
+
+Elena was silent with fear.
+
+"Are you taking a walk?" asked Ostrov.
+
+"Yes," answered Elisaveta briefly.
+
+"Mr. Trirodov's house is somewhere hereabouts, unless I'm mistaken,"
+said Ostrov, half questioningly.
+
+"Yes, you'll find it by following the direction from which we came,"
+replied Elena.
+
+She wanted to conquer her fear. Ostrov winked at her insolently and
+said:
+
+"Thank you most humbly. And who may you be?"
+
+"Perhaps it is not necessary that you should know," replied Elisaveta
+with a half-question.
+
+Ostrov burst into laughter and said with unpleasant familiarity:
+
+"It may not be necessary, but it would be interesting."
+
+The sisters walked on rapidly, but he did not desist. They thought him
+repulsive. There was something alarming in his obtrusiveness.
+
+"You evidently live hereabouts, fair ladies," continued Ostrov; "I
+will therefore venture to ask you what you know about Mr. Trirodov,
+who interests me immensely."
+
+Elena laughed, perhaps somewhat dissemblingly, in order to hide her
+agitation and fear.
+
+"Perhaps we don't live hereabouts," she said.
+
+Ostrov whistled.
+
+"Very likely, isn't it, that you've come all the way from Moscow with
+your bare little feet," he shouted angrily.
+
+"We cannot tell you anything that can interest you," said Elena
+coldly. "You had better apply to him personally. It would be more
+proper."
+
+Ostrov again burst into a sarcastic laugh and exclaimed:
+
+"I can't deny that that would be proper, my handsome barefoot one. But
+suppose he's very busy, eh? How, then, would you advise me to get this
+interesting information I want?"
+
+The sisters were silent and walked on rapidly. Ostrov persisted:
+
+"You are of his colony? Unless I'm mistaken you are instructresses
+there. As far as one could judge from your light dresses and your
+contempt of footwear, I think I'm not mistaken, eh? Tell me, it's an
+amusing life there, isn't it?"
+
+"No," said Elisaveta, "we are not instructresses and we do not live
+there."
+
+"What a pity!" said Ostrov incredulously. "I might have told you
+something about Mr. Trirodov."
+
+He looked at the sisters attentively. They were silent.
+
+"I've got together all sorts of information here and elsewhere," he
+went on. "Curious things they tell about him, very curious indeed. And
+where did he get his money? In general there are many suspicious
+circumstances about his life."
+
+"Suspicious for whom?" asked Elena. "And what affair is it of ours?"
+
+"What affair is it of yours, my charming maidens?" repeated Ostrov
+after her. "I have a well-founded suspicion that you are acquainted
+with Mr. Trirodov, and I therefore hope that you'll tell me something
+about him."
+
+"You had better not hope," said Elisaveta.
+
+"And why not?" observed Ostrov in a familiar tone. "He's an old
+acquaintance of mine. In years gone by we lived, drank, and roamed
+together. And quite suddenly I lost sight of him, and now quite as
+suddenly I've found him again. Naturally, I'm interested. As an old
+friend, you see!"
+
+"Now, look here," said Elisaveta, "we do not wish to converse with
+you. You had better go where you were going. We know nothing that
+would interest you and we have nothing to say to you."
+
+"So that's it!" said Ostrov, with an insolent smile. "And now, my
+beauty, I'd better tell you that you're expressing yourself a little
+carelessly. Suppose I whistled suddenly, eh?"
+
+"What for?" asked Elisaveta, astonished.
+
+"What for-r? Well, some one may come out to my whistle."
+
+"What then?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+After a short silence Ostrov resumed his threatening tone:
+
+"You may be asked to give a few details about what Mr. Trirodov is
+doing behind his walls."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Elisaveta in vexation.
+
+"In any case, I'm only joking," said Ostrov, suddenly changing his
+tone.
+
+He was listening intently. Some one was coming towards them. The
+sisters recognized Piotr and walked quickly to meet him. From their
+haste and flustered manner Piotr understood that the man was
+distasteful to them. He eyed him fixedly and recalled where he had met
+him, whereupon he frowned and asked the sisters:
+
+"Who is this?"
+
+"A very inquisitive person who somehow has got an idea that we have
+many interesting things to tell him about Trirodov," said Elisaveta
+with a smile.
+
+Ostrov raised his hat and said:
+
+"I've had the honour to see you on the float."
+
+"Well, what of it?" asked Piotr sharply.
+
+"Well--er, I have the honour to remind you," said Ostrov with
+exaggerated politeness.
+
+"What are you doing here?" asked Piotr.
+
+"I've had the pleasure of meeting these charming young ladies," Ostrov
+began to explain.
+
+Piotr interrupted him sharply:
+
+"And now you let the young ladies alone and go away from here."
+
+"Why shouldn't I have turned to these young ladies with a polite
+question and an interesting tale?" asked Ostrov.
+
+Piotr, without replying, turned to the sisters:
+
+"You little girls are ready to enter into conversation with every
+vagrant."
+
+An expression of bitterness crept into Ostrov's face. Possibly this
+was only a game, but it was certainly well played. It made Piotr feel
+uncomfortable.
+
+"A vagrant? And what is a vagrant?" asked Ostrov.
+
+"What is a vagrant?" repeated Piotr in confusion. "What a question!"
+
+"Well, sir, you have permitted yourself to use the word, and I'm
+rather interested to know in what sense you've used it in its
+application to me."
+
+Piotr, annoyed at being disconcerted by the stranger's question, said
+sharply:
+
+"A vagrant is one who roams about without shelter and without money
+and obtrudes upon others instead of attending to his own business."
+
+"Thank you for the definition," said Ostrov with a bow. "It is true
+that I have but little money and that I'm compelled to roam
+about--such is the nature of my profession."
+
+"What is your profession?" asked Piotr.
+
+Ostrov bowed with dignity and said:
+
+"I'm an actor!"
+
+"I doubt it," said Piotr once more sharply, "you look more like a
+detective."
+
+"You are mistaken," said Ostrov in a flustered way.
+
+Piotr turned away from him.
+
+"Let us go home at once," he said to the sisters.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+It was growing dark. Ostrov was approaching Trirodov's gates. His face
+betrayed agitation. It was even more clear now than by daylight that
+life had used him hardly. He felt painfully timid in going to
+Trirodov, in whom he evidently had certain hopes. Before Ostrov could
+make up his mind to ring the bell at the gates he walked the entire
+length of the stone wall that surrounded Trirodov's house and garden
+and examined it attentively, without learning anything. Only the
+entire length of the tall wall was before his eyes.
+
+It was already quite dark when Ostrov stopped at last at the main
+gate. The half-effaced figures and old heraldic emblems held his
+attention for a moment only. He had already taken hold of the brass
+bell-handle and paused cautiously, as if it were his habit to
+reconsider at the last moment; he gave a sudden shiver. A clear,
+childish voice behind his back uttered quietly:
+
+"Not here."
+
+Ostrov looked on both sides timidly, half stealthily, bending his head
+low and letting it sink between his shoulders. Quite close by a pale,
+blue-eyed boy dressed in white was standing and eyeing him with intent
+scrutiny.
+
+"They won't hear you here. Every one has left," he said.
+
+"Where is one to ring?" Ostrov asked harshly.
+
+The boy pointed his finger to the left; it was a slow, graceful
+gesture.
+
+"Ring at the small gate there."
+
+He ran off so quickly and quietly it seemed as if he had not been
+there. Ostrov went in the direction indicated. He came to a high,
+narrow gate. A white electric bell-button shone in a round wooden
+recess. Ostrov rang and listened. He could hear somewhere the rapid
+shivering tones of a tiny bell. Ostrov waited. The door did not open.
+Ostrov rang once more. It was quiet behind the door.
+
+"I wonder how long there's to wait?" he grumbled, then gave a shout:
+"Hey, you in there!"
+
+A faint, muffled sound vibrated in the damp air, as if some one had
+tittered lightly. Ostrov caught hold of the brass handle of the gate.
+The gate opened towards him easily and without a sound. Ostrov looked
+round cautiously as he entered, and purposely left the gate open.
+
+He found himself in a small court on either side of which was a low
+wall. The gate swung to behind him with a metallic click. Had he
+himself pulled it to rather quickly? He could not recall now. He
+walked forward about ten paces, when he came upon a wall twice as high
+as the side walls. It had a massive oak door; an electric bell-button
+shone very white on one side. Ostrov rang once more. The bell-button
+was very cold, almost icy, to the touch. A sensation of chill passed
+down his whole body.
+
+A round window, like a dim, motionless, observing eye, was visible
+high above the door.
+
+Ostrov could not say whether he waited there a long or a short time.
+He experienced a strange feeling of having become congealed and of
+having lost all sense of time. Whole days seemed to pass before him
+like a single minute. Rays of bright light fell on his face and
+disappeared. Ostrov thought that some one flashed this light on his
+face by means of a lantern from the window over the door--a light so
+intense that his eyes felt uncomfortable. He turned his face aside in
+vexation. He did not wish to be recognized before he entered. That was
+why he came in the dark of the evening.
+
+But evidently he had been recognized. This door swung open as
+soundlessly as the first. He entered a short, dark corridor in the
+thick wall; then another court. No one was there. The door closed
+noiselessly behind him.
+
+"How many courts are there in this devilish hole?" growled Ostrov.
+
+A narrow path paved with stone stretched before him. It was lit up by
+a lamp from a distance, the reflection of which was directed straight
+towards Ostrov, so that he could see only the smooth grey slabs of
+stone under his feet. It was altogether dark on either side of the
+path, and it was impossible to know whether a wall was there or trees.
+There was nothing for him to do but to walk straight on. Nevertheless
+he occasionally thrust his foot out to either side of him and felt
+there; he was convinced that thickly planted, prickly bushes grew
+there. He thought there was another hedge beyond that.
+
+"Tricks!" he grumbled.
+
+As he slowly moved forward he experienced a vague and growing fear. So
+as not to be caught off his guard, he put his left hand into the
+pocket of his dusty and greasy trousers and felt there the hard body
+of a revolver, which he then transferred to his right-hand pocket.
+
+On the threshold of the house he was met by Trirodov. Trirodov's face
+expressed nothing except an apparent effort to suppress his feelings.
+There was no warmth or welcome in his voice:
+
+"I did not expect to see you."
+
+"I've come, all the same," said Ostrov. "Whether you like it or not,
+you've got to receive your dear guest."
+
+There was contemptuous defiance in his voice. His eyes looked more
+insolent than ever. Trirodov frowned lightly and looked straight into
+Ostrov's eyes, which were compelled to turn aside.
+
+"Come in," said Trirodov. "Why didn't you write and tell me that you
+wished to see me?"
+
+"How should I know that you were here?" growled Ostrov surlily.
+
+"Nevertheless, you found out," said Trirodov, with a vexed smile.
+
+"Found out quite by accident on the float," replied Ostrov. "Heard you
+mentioned in conversation. I don't think you'll care to know what they
+said."
+
+He gave an insinuating smile. Trirodov merely said: "Come in. Follow
+me."
+
+They ascended a narrow, very steep staircase with low, wide stairs;
+there were frequent turnings in various directions round all sorts of
+odd corners, interrupted by long landings between the climbs; each
+landing revealed a tightly shut door. The light was clear and
+unwavering. A cold gaiety and malice, a half-hidden, motionless irony,
+were in the gleam of the incandescent wires bent inside the glass
+pears.
+
+Some one walked behind with a light, cautious step. There were the
+clicking sounds of lights being extinguished; the passages they had
+just passed through were plunged in darkness.
+
+At last they reached the top of the stairway. They walked through a
+long corridor and found themselves in a large gloomy room. There was a
+sideboard against one of the walls and a table in the middle;
+cut-glass dishes rested along shelves around the room. It was to all
+appearances a dining-room.
+
+"It's quite the proper thing to do," grumbled Ostrov. "A meal would do
+me no harm."
+
+The light was strangely distributed. Half of the room and half of the
+table were in the shadow. Two boys dressed in white waited at the
+table. Ostrov winked at them insolently.
+
+But they looked on calmly and departed quite simply. Trirodov settled
+himself in the dark part of the room. Ostrov sat down at the table.
+Trirodov began:
+
+"Well, what do you want of me?"
+
+"Now that's a businesslike question," answered Ostrov, with a hoarse
+laugh, "very much a business question, not so much a gracious as a
+businesslike question. What do I want? In the first place, I am
+delighted to see you. There is a certain bond between us--our
+childhood and all the rest of it."
+
+"I'm very glad," said Trirodov dryly.
+
+"I doubt it," responded Ostrov impudently. "Then again, my dear chap,
+I've come for something else. In fact, you've guessed what I've come
+for. You've been a psychologist ever since I can remember."
+
+"What is it you want?" asked Trirodov.
+
+"Can't you guess?" said Ostrov, winking his eye.
+
+"No," replied Trirodov dryly.
+
+"In that case there's nothing left for me to do but to tell you
+straight: I need money."
+
+He laughed hoarsely, unnaturally; then, pouring out a glass of wine,
+mumbled as he gulped it down:
+
+"Good wine."
+
+"Every one needs money," answered Trirodov coldly. "Where do you
+intend to get it?"
+
+Ostrov turned in his chair. He chuckled nervously and said:
+
+"I've come to you, as you see. You evidently have lots of money, and I
+have little. Comment is needless, as the newspapers would say."
+
+"So that's it! And suppose I refuse?" asked Trirodov.
+
+Ostrov whistled sharply and looked insolently at Trirodov.
+
+"Well, old chap," he said rudely, "I don't count on your permitting
+yourself such a stupid mistake."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why not?" repeated Ostrov after him. "I think the facts must be as
+clear to you as to me, if not more so--and there's nothing to be
+gained by the world getting wind of them."
+
+"I owe you nothing," said Trirodov quietly. "I don't understand why I
+should give you money. You'd only spend it recklessly--squander it
+most likely."
+
+"And do you spend it any more sensibly?" asked Ostrov with a malicious
+smile.
+
+"If not more sensibly, at least with more reckoning," retorted
+Trirodov. "In any case, I'm prepared to help you. Only I may as well
+tell you that I have little spare cash and that even if I had it I'd
+not give you much."
+
+Ostrov gave a short, abrupt laugh and said with decision:
+
+"A little is of no use to me. I need a lot of money. But perhaps
+you'll not think it much."
+
+"How much do you want?" asked Trirodov abruptly.
+
+"Twenty thousand roubles," replied Ostrov, making a determined effort
+to brazen it out.
+
+"I'll not give you so much," said Trirodov, "and I couldn't even if I
+wished to."
+
+Ostrov drew nearer to Trirodov and whispered:
+
+"I'll inform against you."
+
+"What then?" asked Trirodov, untouched by the threat.
+
+"It will be bad for you. It's a capital crime, as you know, my dear
+chap, and of a no mean order," said Ostrov in a menacing tone.
+
+"Yours, my good fellow," said Trirodov in his usual calm voice.
+
+"I'll manage to wriggle out of it somehow, but will see that you get
+your due," said Ostrov with a laugh.
+
+"You're making a sad mistake if you think that I have anything to
+fear," observed Trirodov, with a shrug of his shoulders.
+
+Ostrov seemed to grow more insolent every minute. He whistled and said
+banteringly:
+
+"Tell me now, if you please! Didn't you kill him?"
+
+"I? No, I didn't kill him," answered Trirodov.
+
+"Who then?" asked Ostrov in his derisive voice.
+
+"He's alive," said Trirodov.
+
+"Fiddlesticks!" exclaimed Ostrov.
+
+And he burst out into a loud, insolent, hoarse laugh, though he seemed
+panic-stricken at the same time. He asked:
+
+"What of those little prisms which you've manufactured? I've heard
+that even now they are lying on the table in your study."
+
+"That's true," said Trirodov dryly.
+
+"And I'm told that your present is not absolutely clean either,"
+observed Ostrov.
+
+"Yes?" asked--Trirodov derisively.
+
+"Yes-s," continued Ostrov jeeringly. "The first business in your
+colony is conspiracy, the second corruption, the third cruelty."
+
+Trirodov gave a stern frown and asked scornfully:
+
+"You've had enough time to gather a bouquet of slanders."
+
+"Yes-s, I've managed, as you see. Whether they are slanders is quite
+another matter. I can only say that they fit you somehow. Take, for
+instance, those perverse habits of yours; need I recall them to you? I
+could remind you, if I wished, of certain facts from your early life."
+
+"You know you are talking nonsense," said Trirodov.
+
+"It is reported," went on Ostrov, "that all this is being repeated in
+the quiet of your asylum."
+
+"Even if it were all true," said Trirodov, "I do not see that you have
+anything to gain by it."
+
+Trirodov's eyes had a tranquil look. He seemed remote. His voice had a
+calm, hollow sound. Ostrov exclaimed vehemently:
+
+"Don't imagine for a moment that I have fallen into a trap. If I don't
+leave this place, I have prepared something that will send you to
+gaol."
+
+"Nonsense," said Trirodov as quietly as before. "I'm not afraid. In
+the last resort I can emigrate."
+
+"I suppose you'll put on the mantle of a political exile," laughed
+Ostrov. "It's useless! Our police, they'll keep a sharp look-out for
+you, clever fellows that they are. Never fear, they'll get you.
+They'll get you anywhere. You may be sure of that."
+
+"They'll not give me up where I'm going," said Trirodov. "It's a safe
+place, and you'll not be able to reach me there."
+
+"What sort of place have you prepared for yourself?" asked Ostrov,
+smiling malignantly. "Or is it a secret?"
+
+"It is the moon," was Trirodov's simple and tranquil answer.
+
+Ostrov laughed boisterously. Trirodov added:
+
+"Moreover, the moon has been created by me. She is before my window,
+ready to take me."
+
+Ostrov jumped up in great rage from his place, stamped violently with
+his feet, and shouted:
+
+"You are laughing at me! It is useless. You can't fool me with those
+stupid fairy-tales of yours. Tell those sweet little stories to the
+silly little girls of the provinces. I'm an old sparrow. You can't
+feed me on chaff."
+
+Trirodov remained unruffled.
+
+"You're fuming all for nothing. I'll help you with money on a
+condition."
+
+"What sort of condition?" asked Ostrov with restrained anger.
+
+"You'll have to go from here--very far--for always," answered
+Trirodov.
+
+"I'll have to think that over," said Ostrov.
+
+"I give you a week. Come to me exactly within a week, and you'll
+receive the money."
+
+Ostrov suddenly felt an incomprehensible fear. He experienced the
+feeling of having passed into another's power. He felt oppressed. A
+stern smile marked Trirodov's face. He said quietly:
+
+"You are of such little value that I could kill you without
+scruple--like a snake. But I am tired even of other people's murders."
+
+"My value?" Ostrov muttered hoarsely and absurdly.
+
+"What is your value?" went on Trirodov. "You are a hired murderer, a
+spy, a traitor."
+
+Ostrov said in a meek voice:
+
+"Nevertheless, I've not betrayed you so far."
+
+"Because it wouldn't pay, that's why you've not betrayed me. Again,
+you dare not."
+
+"What do you want me to do?" asked Ostrov humbly. "What is your
+condition? Where do you want me to go?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Trirodov left a pleasant impression on Rameyev. Rameyev made haste to
+return his visit: he went together with Piotr. Piotr did not wish to
+go to Trirodov's, but could not make up his mind to refuse. He kept
+frowning on the way, but once in Trirodov's house he tried to be
+courteous. This he did constrainedly.
+
+Misha soon made friends with Kirsha and with some of the boys. An
+intimacy sprang up between the Rameyevs and Trirodov--that is, to the
+extent that Trirodov's unsociableness and love of a solitary life
+permitted him to become intimate.
+
+It once happened that Trirodov took Kirsha with him to the Rameyevs
+and remained to dinner. Several other close acquaintances of the
+Rameyevs came to dinner. The older of the visitors were the Cadets,
+the younger were the Es-Deks[11] and the Es-Ers.[12]
+
+At the beginning there was a long agitated discussion in connexion
+with the news brought by one of the younger guests, a public school
+instructor named Voronok, an Es-Er. The Chief of Police had been
+killed that day near his house. The culprits managed to escape.
+
+Trirodov took almost no part in the conversation. Elisaveta looked at
+him with anxious eyes, and the yellow of her dress appeared like the
+colour of sadness. It had been remarked by all that Trirodov was
+thoughtful and gloomy; he seemed to be tormented by some secret
+agitation, which he made obvious efforts to control. At last the
+attention of all was turned upon him. This happened after he had
+answered one of the girls' questions.
+
+Trirodov noticed that they were looking at him. He felt uneasy and
+vexed with himself. This vexation, however, helped him to control his
+agitation. He became more animated, threw off, as it were, some
+weight, and began to talk. The glance of Elisaveta's deep blue eyes
+grew joyous at this.
+
+Piotr put in a remark just then, in his usual parochial,
+self-confident manner:
+
+"If it were not for the wild changes in Peter's time, everything would
+have gone differently."
+
+There was a tinge of derision in Trirodov's smile.
+
+"A mistake, wasn't it?" he observed. "But if you are going to look for
+mistakes in Russian history, why not start earlier?"
+
+"You mean at the beginning of creation?" said Piotr.
+
+"Precisely then. But without going so far back, let us pause at the
+Mongolian period," replied Trirodov. "The historical error was that
+Russia did not amalgamate with the Tartars."
+
+"As if there were not enough Tartars in Russia now!" said Piotr,
+provoked.
+
+"That's precisely why there are many--because they didn't amalgamate,"
+observed Trirodov. "They should have had the sense to establish a
+Russo-Mongolian empire."
+
+"And become Mohammedans?" asked Dr. Svetilovitch, a very agreeable
+person but very confident of all that was obvious.
+
+"Not at all!" answered Trirodov. "Wasn't Boris Godunov a Christian?
+That's not the point at issue. All the same, we and the Catholics of
+Western Europe have regarded each other as heretics; and our empire
+might have become a universal one. Even if they had counted us among
+the yellow race, it should be remembered that the yellow race might
+have been considered under the circumstances quite noble and the
+yellow skin a very elegant thing."
+
+"You are developing a strange Mongolian paradox," said Piotr
+contemptuously.
+
+"Even now," retorted Trirodov, "we are looked upon by the rest of
+Europe as almost Mongols, as a race mixed with Mongolian elements. You
+know the saying: 'Scratch a Russian and you will find a Tartar.'"
+
+A discussion arose which continued until they left the table.
+
+Piotr Matov was very much out of sorts during the entire dinner. He
+found almost nothing to say to his neighbour, a young girl, a
+dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty, an Es-Dek. And the handsome Es-Dek
+began to turn more and more towards the diner on the other side of
+her, the priest Zakrasin. He belonged to the Cadets, but was nearer to
+her in his convictions than the Octobrist[13] Matov.
+
+Piotr was displeased because Elisaveta paid no attention to him and
+appeared to be absorbed in Trirodov and in what he was saying; and it
+vexed him because Elena also now and then let her softened gaze rest
+upon Trirodov. He felt he wanted to say provoking things to Trirodov.
+
+"Yet he is a guest," reflected Piotr to himself, but at last he could
+hold out no longer; he felt that he must in one way or another shake
+Trirodov's self-assurance. Piotr walked up to him and, swaying before
+him on his long thin legs, remarked, without almost the slightest
+effort to conceal his animosity:
+
+"Some days ago on the pier a stranger made inquiries about you.
+Kerbakh and Zherbenev were talking nonsense, and he sat down near them
+and seemed very interested in you."
+
+"Rather flattering," said Trirodov unwillingly.
+
+"I cannot say to what an extent it is flattering," said Piotr
+maliciously. "In my opinion there was little to recommend him. His
+appearance was rather suspicious--that of a ragamuffin, in fact.
+Though he insists he's an actor, I have my doubts. He says you are old
+friends. A most insolent fellow."
+
+Trirodov smiled. Elisaveta remarked with some agitation:
+
+"We met him some days ago not far from your house."
+
+"It's quite a lonely place," observed Trirodov in an uncertain voice.
+
+Piotr went on to describe him.
+
+"Yes, that's the actor Ostrov," assented Trirodov.
+
+Elisaveta, feeling a strange unrest, put in:
+
+"He seemed to have gone around the neighbourhood looking about and
+asking questions. I wonder what he can be up to."
+
+"Evidently a spy," said the young Es-Dek contemptuously.
+
+Trirodov, without expressing the slightest astonishment, remarked:
+
+"Do you think so? It's possible. I really don't know. I haven't seen
+him for five years now."
+
+The young Es-Dek, thinking that Trirodov felt offended at her
+reference to his acquaintance, added affectedly:
+
+"You know him well; then please pardon me."
+
+"I don't know his present condition," put in Trirodov. "Everything is
+possible."
+
+"It's impossible to be responsible for all chance acquaintances!"
+interpolated Rameyev.
+
+Trirodov turned to Piotr:
+
+"And what did he say about me?"
+
+But his voice did not express any especial curiosity. Piotr replied
+with a sarcastic smile:
+
+"He said very little, but asked a great deal. He said that you knew
+him very well. In any case, I soon left."
+
+"Yes, I have known him a long time," was Trirodov's calm answer.
+"Perhaps not too well, yet I know him. I had some dealings with him."
+
+"I think he paid you a visit yesterday?"
+
+"Yes," said Trirodov in reply to Elisaveta's question, "he came to see
+me last evening, quite late. I don't know why he chose such a late
+hour. He asked assistance. His demands were large. I will give him
+what I can. He's going away from here."
+
+All this was said in jerks, unwillingly. No one seemed to care to
+continue the subject further, but at this moment, quite unexpectedly
+to all, Kirsha entered into the conversation. He went up to his father
+and said in a quiet but audible voice:
+
+"He purposely came late, while I slept, so that I shouldn't see him.
+But I remember him. When I was very little he used to show me dreadful
+tricks. I don't remember them now. I can only remember that I used to
+get frightened and that I cried."
+
+All looked in astonishment at Kirsha, exchanged glances and smiled.
+
+"You must have, seen it in a dream, Kirsha," said Trirodov--quietly.
+Then, turning to the older people: "Boys of his age love fantastic
+tales. Even we love Utopia and read Wells. The very life which we are
+now creating is a joining, as it were, of real existence with
+fantastic and Utopian elements. Take, for example, this affair of...."
+
+In this manner Trirodov interrupted the conversation about Ostrov and
+changed it to another subject that was agitating all circles at the
+time. He left very soon after that. The others also stayed but a short
+time.
+
+There was an atmosphere of irritation and hostility after the guests
+had gone. Rameyev reproached Piotr.
+
+"My dear Petya, you shouldn't have done that. It isn't hospitable. You
+were looking all the time at Trirodov as if you were getting ready to
+send him to all the devils."
+
+Piotr replied with a controlled gruffness:
+
+"Yes, precisely, to all the devils. You have guessed my feelings,
+uncle."
+
+Rameyev eyed him incredulously and said:
+
+"Why, my dear fellow?"
+
+"Why?" repeated Piotr, giving free rein to his irritation. "What is
+he? A charlatan? A visionary? A magician? Is he in partnership with
+some unclean power? What do you think of it? Or is it the devil
+himself come in a human shape--a little grey, cloven-hoofed demon?"
+
+"That's enough, Petya; what are you saying?" said Rameyev with
+annoyance.
+
+Elisaveta smiled an incredulous smile, full of gentle irony; a golden,
+saddened smile, set off by the melancholy yellow rose in her black
+hair. And Elena's astonished eyes dilated widely.
+
+"Think it over yourself, uncle," went on Piotr, "and look around you.
+He has bewitched our little girls completely!"
+
+"Well, if he has," said Elena with a gay smile, "it's only just a
+little as far as I am concerned."
+
+Elisaveta flushed but said with composure:
+
+"Yes, he's interesting to listen to; and it's no use stuffing one's
+ears."
+
+"There, she admits it!" exclaimed Piotr angrily.
+
+"Admits what?" asked Elisaveta in astonishment.
+
+"That for the sake of this cold, vain egoist you are ready to forget
+every one."
+
+"I've not noticed either his vanity or his egoism," said Elisaveta
+coldly. "I wonder how you've managed to know him so well--or so ill."
+
+"All this is pitiful and absurd nonsense, only an excuse for starting
+a quarrel," said Piotr angrily.
+
+"Petya, you envy him," retorted Elisaveta with unaccustomed sharpness.
+Then, feeling that she had overstepped the mark, she added:
+
+"Do forgive me, Petya, but really you are exasperating sometimes with
+your personal attacks."
+
+"Envy him? Why should I?" he said hotly. "Tell me, what useful thing
+has he done? To be sure, he has published a few tales, a volume of
+verses--but name me even a single work of his prose or verse that
+contains the slightest sense or beauty."
+
+"His verses...." began Elisaveta.
+
+But Piotr would not let her continue.
+
+"Tell me, where is his talent? What is he famous for? All that he
+writes only seems like poetry. If you look at it closely you will see
+that it is bookish, forced, dry--it is diabolically suggestive without
+being talented."
+
+Rameyev interrupted in a conciliatory tone:
+
+"You're unjust. You can't deny him everything."
+
+"Let us admit, then, that there's something in his work not altogether
+bad," continued Piotr. "Who is there nowadays who cannot put together
+some nice-sounding versicles! Yet what is there really I should
+respect in him? He's nothing but a corrupt, bald-headed, ridiculous,
+and dull-sighted person--yet Elisaveta considers him a handsome man!"
+
+"I never said anything about his being handsome," protested Elisaveta.
+"As for his corruption, isn't it purely town tattle?"
+
+She frowned and grew red. Her blue eyes flared up with small greenish
+flames. Piotr walked angrily out of the room.
+
+"Why is he so annoyed?" asked Rameyev in astonishment.
+
+Elisaveta lowered her head and said with childish bashfulness:
+
+"I don't know."
+
+She could not repress an ashamed smile at her timid words, because she
+felt like a little girl who was concealing something. At last she
+overcame her shame and said:
+
+"He's jealous!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Trirodov loved to be alone. Solitude and silence were a holiday to
+him. How significant seemed his lonely experiences to him, how
+delicious his devotion to his visions. Some one came to him, something
+appeared before him, wonderful apparitions visited him, now in dream,
+now in his waking hours, and they consumed his sadness.
+
+Sadness was Trirodov's habitual state. Only while writing his poems
+and his prose did he find self-oblivion--an astonishing state, in
+which time is shrivelled up and consumed, in which great inspiration
+consoles her chosen ones with divine exultation for all burdens, for
+all annoyances in life.
+
+He wrote much, published little. His fame was very limited--there were
+few who read his verses and prose, and even among these but a few who
+acknowledged his talent. His stories and lyrical poems were not
+distinguished by any especial obscurity or any especial decadent
+mannerisms. They bore the imprint of something strange and exquisite.
+It needed an especial kind of soul to appreciate this poetry which
+seemed so simple at the first glance, yet actually so out of the
+ordinary.
+
+To others, from among those who knew him, the public's ignorance of
+him appeared inexplicable. His capabilities seemed sufficiently great
+to awaken the attention and admiration of the crowd. But he, to some
+extent, detested people--perhaps because he was too confident of his
+own genius--and he never made a definite effort to gratify them. And
+that was why his works were only rarely published.
+
+In general, Trirodov did not encourage intimacies with people. He
+found it painful to look with involuntary penetration into the
+confusion of their dark, foggy souls.
+
+He found himself at ease only in the company of his wife. Love makes
+kin of souls. But his wife had died a few years ago, when Kirsha was
+six years old. Kirsha remembered her; he could not forget her, and
+kept on recalling her. Trirodov for some reason associated his wife's
+death with the birth of his son, though there was no obvious
+connexion: his wife died from a casual, sharp illness. Trirodov
+thought:
+
+"She bore, and therefore had to die. Life is only for the innocent."
+
+After her death he always awaited her; there was for him the consoling
+thought:
+
+"She will come. She will not deceive me. She will give a sign. She
+will take me with her."
+
+And life became as easy to bear as a vacillant vision seen in dream.
+
+He loved to look at his wife's portrait. It was painted by a
+celebrated English artist and hung in his study. There were also many
+photographic reproductions of her. It was his joy to muse of her and,
+musing, to delight in images of her handsome face and her lovely body.
+
+Sometimes his solitude was broken by the intrusion of external life
+and external, unemotional love. A woman used to come in to him
+sometimes--a strange, undemanding woman who seemed to come from
+nowhere and to lead to nowhere. Trirodov had had relations with her
+for several months. She was an instructress in the local girls'
+school, Ekaterina Nikolayevna Alkina--a quiet, tranquil, cold creature
+with dark red hair and a thin face, the dull pallor of which
+emphasized the impressively vivid lips of her large mouth; it seemed
+as if all the sensuality and colour of the face had poured themselves
+into the lips and made them startlingly and painfully vivid and
+suggestive of sin. She had married and had parted from her husband.
+She had a son, who lived with her. She was an S.D.[14] and worked in
+the organization, but all this was merely incidental in her life. She
+met Trirodov in party work. Her comrades understood as by some
+intuition that in order to carry on negotiations with Trirodov, who
+did not permit himself any intimacy with them, it was necessary to
+choose this woman.
+
+And now Alkina had come again, and began as always:
+
+"I've come on business."
+
+Trirodov regarded her with a deep, tranquil glance and answered her
+with the usual commonplaces of welcome.
+
+Slightly agitated by hidden desires, Alkina spoke of the "business" in
+hand.
+
+It had already been decided that the party orator who was to come to
+speak at the projected mass meeting would be quartered at Trirodov's:
+this was thought to be the least dangerous place. Alkina came to say
+that the orator was expected that evening. It was necessary to bring
+him to Trirodov's house in such a way that the town should not know
+anything about it. As soon as they had decided at what entrance he
+should be received Trirodov went out of the room to make the necessary
+arrangements. The agreeable consciousness of creative mystery filled
+him with joy.
+
+When Trirodov returned Alkina was standing at the table and turning
+over the pages of a new book. Her hands trembled slightly. She glanced
+expectantly at Trirodov. She appeared to wish to say something
+meaningful and tender--but instead she resumed her remarks on
+business. She told him what was new in town, in her school, in the
+organization--about the confiscation of the local newspaper, about
+personalities ordered to leave town by the police, about the factory
+ferment.
+
+"Who will be our own speakers at the mass meeting?" asked Trirodov.
+
+"Bodeyev, from the school, for one."
+
+"I do not like his manner of speaking,", said Trirodov.
+
+"He's a good party workman," observed Alkina with a timid smile. "He's
+to be valued for that."
+
+"You know, of course, that I am not much of a party man," said
+Trirodov.
+
+Alkina was silent. She trembled lightly as she rose from her seat,
+then suddenly ceased to be agitated. Only her vivid lips, speaking
+slowly, seemed to be alive in her pale face.
+
+"Giorgiy Sergeyevitch, will you love me a little?"
+
+Trirodov smiled. He sat quietly in his chair and looked at her simply
+and dispassionately. He did not answer at once. Alkina asked again
+with her sad and gentle humility:
+
+"Perhaps you haven't the time, nor the desire?"
+
+"No, Katya, I shall be glad," answered Trirodov calmly. "You'll find
+it convenient in there," and he signified with his eyes the little
+neighbouring room which had no other exit.
+
+Alkina flushed lightly and said:
+
+"If you will permit me, I'd rather undress here. It would give me joy
+to have you look at me a long time."
+
+Trirodov helped her to undo the clasps of her skirt. Alkina sat down
+on a chair, bent over, and began to undo the buttons of her boots.
+Then, with evident enjoyment at having freed her feet, she walked
+slowly across the floor towards the door and turned the key in the
+lock.
+
+"As you know, I have but one joy," she said.
+
+She gracefully threw off her clothes and stood before Trirodov with
+uplifted arms. She was sinuously slender, like a white serpent.
+Crossing the fingers of her upraised hands, she bent her whole body
+forward, so that she appeared more sinuously slender than ever, and
+the curve of her body almost resembled a white ring. Then she relaxed
+her arms, stood up erect, all tranquil and self-possessed, and said:
+
+"I want you to take a good look at me. I haven't grown old yet, have
+I? And not altogether faded?"
+
+Trirodov surveyed her with admiration and said quietly:
+
+"Katya, you are as handsome as always."
+
+Alkina was mistrustful.
+
+"It's true, isn't it, that clothes have too long cramped my body and
+injured the skin. How can my body be handsome?"
+
+"You are graceful and flexible," answered Trirodov. "The lines of your
+body are somewhat elongated but wholly elastic. If any one were to
+measure your body he would find no error in its proportions."
+
+Alkina scrutinized herself attentively and went on incredulously:
+
+"The lines are good--but the colour? I believe you once said that
+Russians often have unpleasant complexions. When I look on the
+whiteness of my body I am reminded of plaster of paris, and I begin to
+weep because I am so ugly."
+
+"No, Katya," asserted Trirodov. "The whiteness of your body is not
+like plaster of paris. It is marble, slightly rose-tinged. It is milk
+poured into a pink crystal vase. It is mountain snow lit up with the
+last glow of sunset. It is a white reverie suffused with rose desire."
+
+Alkina smiled joyously and flushed lightly as she asked him:
+
+"Will you take a few snapshots of me to-day? Otherwise I shall weep,
+because I am so ugly and so meagre that you do not wish to recall
+sometimes my face and my body."
+
+"Yes," answered Trirodov, "I have a few films ready."
+
+Alkina laughed gleefully and said:
+
+"Now kiss me."
+
+She bent over Trirodov and almost fell into his arms. The kisses
+seemed tranquil and innocent; it might have been a sister kissing a
+brother. How gentle and elastic her skin was under his hands! Alkina
+pressed against him with a submissive, yielding movement. Trirodov
+carried her to the wide, soft couch. She lay in his arms timidly and
+quietly and looked straight into his eyes with a simple, innocent
+look.
+
+When the sweet and deep minutes passed, followed by fatigue and shame,
+Alkina lay there motionlessly with half-closed eyes--and then said
+suddenly:
+
+"I've been wanting to ask you, and somehow couldn't decide to. Do you
+detest me? Perhaps you think me very shameless?"
+
+She turned her face towards him and looked at him with frightened,
+ashamed eyes. And he answered her with his usual resolution:
+
+"No, Katya. Shame is often needed, in order that we may gain control
+over it."
+
+Alkina once more lay back calmly, basking naked under his glances, as
+under the rays of the high Dragon. Trirodov was silent. Alkina laughed
+quietly and said:
+
+"My husband used to be so respectable, mean and polite. He never beat
+me--he was not a cultured man for nothing--and he never even used
+coarse words. If he had but called me a fool! I sometimes think that I
+wouldn't have left him if our quarrels hadn't passed so quietly, if he
+had but beat me, pulled me by my hair, lashed me with something."
+
+"Sweet?" asked Trirodov.
+
+"Life is so dull," continued Alkina. "One struggles in the nets of
+petty annoyances. If one could but cry out, but give wail to one's
+yearning, one's woe, one's unendurable pain!"
+
+She said this with a passion unusual to her and grew silent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+It was drawing towards evening, and once more Trirodov was alone,
+tormented by his unceasing sadness. His mind was in a whirl. He was in
+a half-somnolent state, which was like the foreboding of a nightmare.
+His half-dreams and half-illusions were full of the day's impressions,
+full of burning, cruel reveries.
+
+It had just grown dark. A fire was visible on a height near the town.
+The town boys were making merry. They had lit a bonfire, and were
+throwing the brands into the air; as they rose swiftly, the burning
+brands appeared like skyrockets against the blue sky. And these
+beautiful flights of fire in the darkness gave joy and sadness.
+
+Kirsha, silent as always, came to his father. He placed himself at the
+window and looked out with his dark, sad eyes upon the distant fires
+of St. John's Eve. Trirodov went up to him. Kirsha turned quietly
+towards his father:
+
+"This will be a terrible night."
+
+Trirodov answered as quietly:
+
+"There will be nothing terrible. Don't be afraid, Kirsha. You had
+better go to sleep, my boy, it is time."
+
+As if he had not heard his father, Kirsha went on:
+
+"The dead will soon rise from their graves."
+
+"The dead are already rising from their graves," replied Trirodov.
+
+A strange feeling of astonishment stirred within him, why did he speak
+of this? Or was it due to the urgency of the questioner's desire?
+Quietly, ever so quietly, half questioning, half relating, Kirsha
+persisted:
+
+"The dead will walk on the Navii[15] footpath, the dead will speak
+Navii words."
+
+And again, as though submitting to a strange will, not his own,
+Trirodov replied:
+
+"The dead have already risen, they are already walking upon the Navii
+footpath, towards the Navii town, they are already speaking Navii
+words about Navii affairs."
+
+And Kirsha asked:
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"I am going," said Trirodov after a brief silence.
+
+"I am going with you," said Kirsha resolutely.
+
+"You had better not go, dear Kirsha," said his father tenderly.
+
+But Kirsha persistently repeated:
+
+"I will spend this night with you there, at the Navii footpath. I will
+see and I will hear. I will look into dead eyes."
+
+Trirodov said sternly:
+
+"I do not wish to take you with me--you ought to remain here."
+
+There was entreaty in Kirsha's voice:
+
+"Perhaps mother will come by."
+
+Trirodov, falling into deep thought, said finally:
+
+"Very well, come with me."
+
+The evening dragged on slowly and sadly. The father and son waited. It
+grew quite dark by the time they went.
+
+They walked through the garden, past the closed greenhouse with its
+mysteriously glittering window-panes. The quiet children were not yet
+asleep. Quietly they swung in the garden upon their swings. Quietly
+clinked the swing rings, quietly creaked the wooden seats. Upon the
+swings sat the quiet children, lit up by the dead moon and cooled by
+the night breeze, and they swung softly and sang their songs. The
+night listened to their quiet songs, and the full, clear, dead moon
+also. Kirsha, lowering his voice so that the quiet children might not
+hear, asked:
+
+"Why don't they sleep? They swing on their swings neither upward nor
+downward, but evenly. Why do they do this?"
+
+"They must not sleep to-night," answered Trirodov, also in a whisper.
+"They cannot sleep until the dawn grows rosy, until the dawn begins to
+laugh. There is really no reason why they should sleep. They can sleep
+as well by day."
+
+Again Kirsha asked:
+
+"Will they go with us? They want to go."
+
+"No, Kirsha, they don't want anything."
+
+"Don't want anything?" repeated Kirsha sadly.
+
+"They ought not to go with us unless we call them."
+
+"Shall we call them?" asked Kirsha joyously.
+
+"We shall call one. Which one would you like?"
+
+Kirsha, after some thought, said:
+
+"Grisha."
+
+"Very well, we'll call Grisha," said Trirodov.
+
+He turned in the direction of the swings, and called out:
+
+"Grisha!"
+
+A boy, who resembled the sad-faced Nadezhda, quietly jumped down from
+his swing, and walked behind them, without approaching too closely.
+The other quiet children looked tranquilly after him, and continued to
+swing and to sing as before.
+
+Trirodov opened the gate, and was followed by Kirsha and Grisha. The
+night hovered all around them, and the forgotten Navii footpath
+stretched in a black strip through the darkness.
+
+Kirsha shivered--he felt the cold, heavy earth under his bare feet;
+the cold air pressed against his bare knees, the cold moist freshness
+of the night blew against his half-bared breast. He heard his father
+ask in a low voice:
+
+"Kirsha, are you not afraid?"
+
+"No," whispered Kirsha, as he breathed in the fresh aroma of the dew
+and the light mist.
+
+The light of the moon was seductive with mystery. She smiled with her
+lifeless, tranquil face, and appeared to be saying:
+
+"What was will be again. What was will happen more than once."
+
+The night was peaceful and clear. They walked a long time--Trirodov
+and Kirsha, and some distance behind them the quiet Grisha followed.
+At last there appeared, quite near, peering through the mist, the low
+white cemetery wall. Another road cut across theirs. Quite narrow, its
+worn cobblestones gleamed dimly in the moonlight. The road of the
+living and the road of the dead crossed each other at the entrance of
+the cemetery. In the field near the crossing several mounds were
+visible--they were the unmarked graves of suicides and convicts.
+
+The whole neighbourhood, bewitched with mystery and fear, seemed
+oppressed. The flat field stretched far--all enveloped in a light
+mist. Far to the left, the town fires showed their vague glimmers
+through the mist--and marked off by the wall of mist, the town seemed
+to be very distant, and to be guarding jealously from the fields of
+night the tumultuous voices of life.
+
+An old witch, grey, and all bent, appeared from somewhere; she swung a
+crutch and stumbled on in haste. She was mumbling angrily:
+
+"It doesn't smell of our spirit. Strangers have come! Why have they
+come? What can strangers want here? What are they seeking? They'll
+find what they don't want to find. Ours will see them, and will tear
+them to pieces, and will scatter the pieces before all the winds."
+
+Suddenly there was a weird rustle, there rose all about them the
+squeak of piping little voices, and the sounds of a confused
+scampering. At the crosspaths there darted in all directions, as thick
+as dust, countless hordes of grey sprites and evil spirits. Their
+running was so impetuous that they could have borne along with them
+every living, weak-willed soul. And it could already be seen that
+running in their midst were the pitiful souls of little people. Kirsha
+whispered in a voice full of fear:
+
+"Quicker, quicker into the ring! They will bear us away if we don't
+mark ourselves in."
+
+Trirodov called quietly:
+
+"Come here, come here, quiet boy, draw a circle around us with your
+nocturnal little stick."
+
+They no sooner had succeeded in marking themselves in with the magic
+line than the dead began to pass down the Navii path. The throng of
+the dead, submitting to some evil malediction, walked towards the
+town. The spectres walked in the nocturnal silence and the traces they
+left behind them were light, curious, and hardly distinguishable.
+Whispered conversations were heard--lifeless words. The dead walked at
+random, without any denned order. At the beginning the voices merged
+into a general drone, and only afterwards, by straining one's ears, it
+was possible to distinguish separate words and whole phrases.
+
+"Be good yourself, that's the chief thing."
+
+"For mercy's sake--what perversion, what immorality!"
+
+"Plenty of food and plenty of clothes--what more can one want?"
+
+"I haven't sinned much."
+
+"That's what they deserve. Kisses are not for them."
+
+In the beginning all the dead fused into one dark, grey mass. But
+gradually, if one looked intently one could distinguish the separate
+corpses.
+
+One nobleman who passed by had a cap with a red band on his head; he
+was saying with calm and deliberation:
+
+"The divine right of ownership should be inviolable. We and our
+ancestors have built up the Russian land."
+
+Another of the same class, who walked beside him, remarked:
+
+"My motto--autocracy, orthodoxy, and nationality. My credo--a strong
+redeeming power."
+
+A priest in a black vestment swung a censer, and cried in a tenor
+voice:
+
+"Every soul should submit to sovereign dominion. The hand that gives
+will not grow poorer."
+
+A wise muzhik passed by muttering:
+
+"We know everything, but are not saying anything just yet. When you
+don't know anything they leave you alone. Only you can't cover up your
+mouth with a handkerchief."
+
+Several soldiers walked past together. They bawled their indecorous
+songs. Their faces were grey-red in colour. They stank of sweat,
+putrescence, bad tobacco, and vodka.
+
+"I have laid down my stomach for my faith, my Tsar, and my
+Fatherland," a smart young colonel was saying.
+
+After him came a thin man with the face of a Jesuit and cried out
+loudly:
+
+"Russia for the Russians!"
+
+A stout merchant kept on repeating:
+
+"If you don't cheat you can't sell your goods. Even a fur coat might
+be turned inside out. Your penny makes you well thought of anywhere."
+
+An austere, freckled woman was saying:
+
+"Beat me, seeing that I'm your woman, but there's no law that'll let
+you tie up with a girl so long as you've got a wife living."
+
+A muzhik walked at her side, a dirty, ill-smelling fellow, who said
+nothing and hiccuped.
+
+Once more there was a nobleman, large, stout, bristling,
+savage-looking. He ranted:
+
+"Hang them! Flog them!"
+
+Trirodov turned to Kirsha:
+
+"Don't be afraid, Kirsha--these are dead words."
+
+Kirsha silently nodded his head.
+
+A mistress and her servant-maid walked together and exchanged
+quarrelsome words.
+
+"God didn't make all the trees in the forest alike. I am a white bone,
+you are a black bone. I am a gentlewoman, you are a peasant-woman."
+
+"You may be a gentlewoman, yet trash."
+
+"Maybe trash, but still from the gentry."
+
+Quite close to the magic line there was an apparent effort on the part
+of an elegantly dressed woman and a young man of the breed of dandies
+to emerge from the general throng. They had been only recently buried,
+and they exhaled the odour of fresh corpses. The woman coquettishly
+moved her half-putrefied lips and complained in a hoarse, creaking
+voice:
+
+"They've forced us to walk with all these _Khams_.[16] They might
+have let us walk separately from all this common folk."
+
+The dandy suddenly complained in a squeaking voice:
+
+"Be careful, there, muzhik, don't nudge. What a dirty fellow!"
+
+The muzhik had evidently only just jumped out of his grave; he was
+barely awake, and he had not yet realized himself or understood his
+condition. He was all dishevelled and in rags. His eyes were turbid.
+Curses and indecent words issued from his dead lips. He was angry
+because he had been disturbed, and he bawled:
+
+"By what right? You are lying there and not doing any one any harm,
+and are roused and made to walk along. What new rules have they got
+for us--disturbing the dead! You've only just found your earth--when
+up you must be and moving."
+
+Unsteady on his feet, the muzhik continued to pour out his coarse
+abuse; when he saw Trirodov he opened his eyes wide and went straight
+to him. He was blindly conscious of being in the presence of a
+stranger and an enemy and he wished to destroy him. Kirsha trembled
+and grew pale. He clung to his father in fear. The quiet boy,
+retaining his tranquil sadness, stood at their side, like an angel on
+guard.
+
+The muzhik touched the enchanted line. Pain and terror transpierced
+him. He stared with his dead eyes, but quickly lowered them; as he was
+unable to withstand the look of the living, he fell with his forehead
+to the ground just beyond the line and begged for mercy.
+
+"Go!" said Trirodov.
+
+The muzhik rose to his feet and scampered away. But he soon paused,
+and again burst out into abuse; then ran farther.
+
+Two lean, poorly dressed boys, with green faces, walked by. The rags
+which bound their feet hung loosely. One of them said:
+
+"Do you understand? They tormented me, tyrannized over me. I ran away
+and they caught me again--I had no strength left. I went to the garret
+and strangled myself. I don't know what I shall get for it now."
+
+The other green boy replied:
+
+"As for me, I was beaten with salted rods. My hands are quite clean."
+
+"Yes, you are lucky," said the first boy enviously. "You will get a
+little golden wreath, but what will happen to me?"
+
+"I will entreat the angels, the archangels, the cherubim and the
+seraphim for you--give me but your full name and address."
+
+"My sin is quite a big one, and my name is Mitka Sosipatrov, from
+Nizhniya Kolotilovka."
+
+"Don't be afraid," said the birched boy. "As soon as they let me in to
+the upper chambers, I will at once fall at the feet of the Virgin Mary
+until you are forgiven."
+
+"Yes, do me this great favour."
+
+Kirsha stood pale. His eyes sparkled. He trembled from head to foot
+and kept on repeating:
+
+"Mamma, come to me! Mamma, come to me!"
+
+A radiant apparition suddenly appeared in the throng, and Kirsha
+throbbed with joy. Kirsha's mother passed by--all white, all lovely,
+all gentle. She turned her tranquil eyes upon her dear ones and
+whispered:
+
+"I will come."
+
+Kirsha, transported with a quiet joy, stood motionless. His eyes
+gleamed like the eyes of the quiet angel who stood there on guard.
+
+Again the dead throng moved on. A governor passed by. All his figure
+breathed might and majesty. Yet hardly awake, he grumbled:
+
+"Make way for the Russian Governor! I'll have no patience with you. I
+will not permit it! You cannot frighten me. What! Feed the hungry, you
+say?"
+
+He appeared, as it were, to awaken at these words; he looked around
+him and said in great astonishment, as he shrugged his shoulders:
+
+"What a strange disorder! How did I get into this crowd? Where is the
+police?"
+
+Then he suddenly bawled out:
+
+"Let the Cossacks come!"
+
+In response to the Governor's cry a detachment of Cossacks came
+flying. Without noticing Trirodov and the children, they swept along
+past them and savagely flourished their _nagaikas_.[17] The dead,
+pressed from behind by the Cossacks' horses, became a confused,
+wavering mass, and answered with malignant laughter to the blows of
+the _nagaikas_ upon their lifeless bodies.
+
+The grey witch sat down on a near-by stone and shook with her hideous,
+creaking laughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Elisaveta dressed herself up as a boy. She loved to do this and she
+did it quite often; so tedious is the monotony of our lives that even
+a change of dress furnishes a diversion!
+
+Elisaveta put on a white sailor-jacket with a blue collar, and blue
+knee-breeches which revealed the beauty and grace of her sunburnt
+lower limbs; she put on a cap, took a fishing-rod and went to the
+river. Elisaveta looked like a rather tall stripling of fourteen in
+this dress.
+
+It was quiet and bright on the river's bank. Elisaveta sat down on a
+stone at the edge, lowered her feet into the water, and watched the
+float. A rowing-boat appeared. Elisaveta looked intently and saw that
+it contained Stchemilov. The latter called out:
+
+"I say, my lad, if you belong here, can you tell me if...."
+
+Then he paused because Elisaveta was laughing.
+
+"Well, who would have thought it--comrade Elisaveta?"
+
+"You didn't recognize me, comrade?" asked Elisaveta with a merry
+laugh, as she approached the landing-place where Stchemilov was
+already fastening his boat.
+
+"I must confess that I didn't know you at once," he replied, as he
+pressed her hand warmly. "I have come for you. To-night we are to hold
+our mass meeting."
+
+"Is it really to-night?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+She grew cold from agitation and confusion as she recalled that she
+had promised to speak that evening.
+
+"Yes, to-night," said Stchemilov; "I hope you haven't changed your
+mind. You will speak, eh?"
+
+"I thought it was to be to-morrow," she replied. "Just wait a moment.
+I'll get a small bundle of clothes. I will change at your place."
+
+She quickly and gaily tripped up the bank. Stchemilov whistled as he
+sat waiting in the boat. Elisaveta soon reappeared, and deftly jumped
+into the boat.
+
+It was necessary to row past the whole length of the town. No one on
+either bank recognized Elisaveta in her boy's attire. Stchemilov's
+house, a cabin in the middle of a vegetable garden, stood on a steep
+bank of the river, just along the edge of the town.
+
+No one had yet arrived at the house. Elisaveta picked up a periodical
+which lay on the table and asked:
+
+"Tell me, comrade, how do you like these verses?"
+
+Stchemilov looked at the periodical, open at a page which contained
+Trirodov's verses. He smiled and said:
+
+"What shall I say? His revolutionary poems are not bad. Nowadays,
+however, everybody writes them. As for his other works, they are not
+written about us. Noblemen's delights are not for us."
+
+"It's a long time since I've been here," said Elisaveta. "What a mess
+you've got here."
+
+"A house without a mistress," answered Stchemilov, rather confused.
+
+Elisaveta began to put things in order and to clean and to scrub. She
+moved about with agile grace. Stchemilov admired her graceful limbs;
+it was fascinating to watch the play of the muscles under the brown
+skin of her calves. He exclaimed in a clear, almost ecstatic voice:
+
+"How graceful you are, Elisaveta! Like a statue! I never saw such arms
+and legs."
+
+"I feel embarrassed, comrade Aleksei. You praise me to my eyes as if I
+were a charming piece of property."
+
+Stchemilov suddenly flushed with embarrassment; his habitual
+self-assurance appeared to have left him unexpectedly. He breathed
+heavily and stammered out in confusion:
+
+"Comrade Elisaveta, you are a fine person. Don't be offended at my
+words. I love you. I know that for you social inequality is a silly
+thing; and you know that for me your money is of no account. Now if I
+am not repugnant to you...."
+
+Elisaveta stood before him calm and yet sad, and as she dried her
+hands, grown red from the cold water, with a towel, she said quietly:
+
+"Forgive me, comrade Aleksei--you are right about my views, but I love
+another."
+
+She herself did not know how these words came to be spoken. Love
+another! So unexpectedly the secret of her heart revealed itself in
+superficial words. But did he love her, that other one?
+
+They were both flustered. Stchemilov strove heroically to control his
+agitation. As he looked with his confused eyes into her clear blue
+ones he said:
+
+"Forgive me, Elisaveta, and forget what I have said. I didn't guess
+right that time and did the wrong thing. I didn't think that you'd
+love him. Don't be angry at me and don't despise me."
+
+"Enough, Aleksei," said Elisaveta tenderly. "You know how I respect
+you. We are friends. Give me your hand."
+
+Stchemilov gave her hand a tight, comradely pressure, then bent down
+and kissed it. Elisaveta drew nearer to him and kissed his lips with a
+tranquil, innocent, delicious kiss, such as a sister gives a brother.
+Then she snatched up her bundle and ran into the passage, one of the
+doors of which led to a small storeroom where the literature was kept
+in a trunk under the floor.
+
+She ran into Kiril on the way.
+
+"Is Aleksei home, my lad?"
+
+"Yes," said Elisaveta; "enter, comrade Kiril."
+
+When Kiril heard the familiar voice and, lifting his eyes, saw plaits
+of hair wound around the lad's head, he was astonished. He was very
+much embarrassed upon recognizing Elisaveta. She hid herself behind
+the door of the storeroom, while Kiril blundered for a long time in
+the dark hall, unable in his confusion to find the door.
+
+Others began to come in: there was the school-instructor Bodeyev,
+instructor Voronok of the town school, and the imported orator, who
+came accompanied by Alkina.
+
+Elisaveta was attired by now in a simple dark blue dress.
+
+"It's time to start," said Stchemilov.
+
+Once seated in the rowing-boat, the members of the party became silent
+and slightly nervous. Only the new-comer was perfectly calm--he was
+used to it. Near-sighted, he looked indifferently out of his
+spectacles, now one side, now the other, and told bits of news while
+smoking one cigarette after another. He was young, tall, and
+flat-chested. He had a lean face, long, smooth, chestnut-coloured
+hair, and a scant beard. His flat round cap, reddish in the sun, gave
+him the look of an artisan.
+
+It had begun to grow dark by the time they disembarked at the
+appointed place. There was still a half-verst to go through the wood
+on foot. The evening twilight seemed oppressed under the eternal
+vaults of the wood; it hummed and rustled with barely audible noises
+and the sad whisperings of stealthy beings.
+
+They gathered at last in a large glade in the midst of a tall, dense
+wood. The moon was already high in the sky, and the black shadows of
+the trees crept across half of the glade. The trees were intensely
+still and pensive, as if they wished to listen to the words of these
+people who had collected at their feet. But they really did not care
+to listen--they had their own life and were indifferent to all these
+people. And they suffered neither joy nor sadness at sheltering in
+their dark shade many young girls who were in love with the dream of
+liberation--among them Elisaveta, who was also in love with this
+dream, and who created for it a temple of young passion and
+embroidered into this dream's design the image of a living man in a
+mysterious house. She was deliciously in love and painfully agitated
+by the sudden acknowledgment she made of her love in her poignantly
+sweet words, "I love another."
+
+In the dark shade of the trees were red glimmering cigarettes and
+pipes. The odour of tobacco mingled with the fresh, nocturnal coolness
+and gave it a sweet piquancy. Piquant also, in the nocturnal
+stillness, were the sounds of the young, eager voices. And these
+people had no concern with the mystery of the wood made audible in the
+silence. The people behaved as if they were at home. They sat about
+and walked and met each other and chatted. Sometimes, when the din of
+talk grew too loud, the leaders of the meeting uttered their warnings.
+Then the voices were lowered.
+
+There were about three hundred people of all kinds--labouring men,
+young people from schools, young Jews, and very many girls. All the
+young Jews and Jewesses of the town had come. They were agitated more
+than the rest and their speech nearly always passed into a violent
+commotion. They awaited so much, they hoped so passionately! They were
+so painfully in love with the dream of liberation!
+
+Some of the instructresses from Trirodov's colony were also here,
+among them the sad Nadezhda and the ecstatic Maria. There were quite a
+number of schoolboys and schoolgirls present. These tried to act at
+ease, to show that it was not their first occasion of the sort. There
+were also many college students, both men and women. The young were
+burning with joyous unrest. But all who had gathered were intensely
+agitated. It was the sweet agitation of their dream of liberation; how
+tenderly and how passionately they were in love with it! And in more
+than one young heart virginal passion flowed together with the dream
+of liberation; young passionate love flamed with a great fire in the
+joy of liberation, making one of liberation and love, of revolt and
+sacrifice, of wine and blood--what delicious mystery in love thirsting
+and yielding! And more than one pair of eyes sparkled at the sight of
+a beloved image, and more than one pair of lips whispered:
+
+"And he's here!"
+
+"And she's here!"
+
+In the shade, under the trees, where indiscreet glances could not
+penetrate, impatient lips met in a quick, timid kiss. And the first
+words were:
+
+"I'm not late, comrade?"
+
+"No, comrade Natalya, you are in time."
+
+"Let us go over there, comrade Valentine."
+
+The names were pronounced tenderly. A man in a cap, black shirt,[18]
+and high boots, walked up to Elisaveta. He had a small black beard and
+moustache, and his face, which was both familiar and unfamiliar, had
+something in it that stirred her. He exclaimed:
+
+"Elisaveta, you don't recognize me?"
+
+She recognized him at once by his voice. A warmth suffused her. She
+laughed and said joyously:
+
+"I knew you by your voice alone. Your beard and moustache make you
+wholly unrecognizable."
+
+"They are glued on," explained Trirodov.
+
+They conversed. He heard some one whisper behind his back:
+
+"That is comrade Elisaveta. She's considered the first beauty in our
+town."
+
+Trirodov was for some reason overjoyed at these words, partly because
+Elisaveta heard them and blushed so furiously that even the dim
+moonlight could not hide her blushes.
+
+A few detectives had also managed to find their way here, and there
+was even one provocateur. These chattels alone knew that the police
+had information about the meeting and that the wood would shortly be
+encircled by the Cossacks.
+
+Conversations were kept up among small groups for some time before the
+meeting opened. The agitators discussed matters with labouring men who
+were not in the party. The more interesting people were introduced to
+the invited speaker.
+
+Stchemilov's loud voice rang out:
+
+"Comrades, attention. I propose comrade Abram as chairman."
+
+"Agreed, agreed," came suppressed voices from every side.
+
+Comrade Abram took his place on a high stump of a hewn-down tree. The
+speeches began. Elisaveta was nervous until it came her turn to speak.
+She was troubled with pain and fear because she knew that Trirodov
+would hear her.
+
+Proud, brave watchwords and bold instructions were heard. The
+provocateur also made a speech. He urged them to an immediate armed
+revolt. Some one's voice called out:
+
+"Comrades--this man's a provocateur!"
+
+There was a commotion. The provocateur shouted something in his
+defence. He was promptly jostled out.
+
+Then Stchemilov spoke; he was followed by the invited orator.
+Elisaveta's agitation grew.
+
+But when the chairman said, "Comrade Elisaveta, the word belongs to
+you," she suddenly became calm and, having ascended the high stump
+that served as the platform, began to speak. Her deep, measured voice
+carried far. Some one seemed to echo it in the wood--it was like a
+fantastic, restless din. A being beloved by her and near to her sat
+there and listened; her beloved, near comrades also listened. Hundreds
+of attentive eyes followed her, and the dear friendly looks,
+converging like lances under a shield, held her very high in the pure
+atmosphere of happiness.
+
+The sweet moments of joy passed by like a short dream. She ended her
+speech and came down among the audience, where she was received with
+flattering comments and strong pressures of the hand--sometimes, it
+must be confessed, a little over-strong.
+
+"I say, comrade, you'll break my hand. How strong you are!"
+
+And his face would also break into a joyous smile.
+
+The speeches ended. The songs began. The wood re-echoed with proud,
+brave words, with a song of freedom and revolt. Suddenly the song
+stopped short, a confused murmur ran through the crowd. Some one
+shouted:
+
+"The Cossacks!"
+
+Some one shouted:
+
+"Run, comrades!"
+
+Some one ran. Some one shouted:
+
+"Be calm, comrades!"
+
+The Cossacks had hid themselves in the wood a couple of versts from
+the meeting. Many of them had managed to take several drinks. As they
+sat around their bonfires they began to sing a gay, noisy, indecent
+song, but their officers enjoined silence.
+
+A spy came running; he whispered something to the colonel. Soon a
+command was given. The Cossacks jumped quickly on their horses and
+rode away, leaving the half-consumed bonfire behind them. The dry
+faggots and the grass smouldered a long time. The forest caught
+fire.[19]
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+Some one whispered quickly:
+
+"Do you hear, it's the Cossacks! I wonder which side they are coming
+from. It's hard to tell which way to run."
+
+"They are coming from town," said some one. "The only thing to do is
+to go towards Opalikha."
+
+The leaders began to give orders:
+
+"Comrades, be calm. Scatter as quickly as possible. Don't jostle. The
+road to Dubky is clear."
+
+A number of horses' heads suddenly appeared from among the trees quiet
+close to Elisaveta, and their dumb but good eyes looked on
+incomprehensibly. The crowd of young people began to run, and carried
+Elisaveta along with them. She was seized by a feeling of stupor. She
+thought:
+
+"What's the use of running? They'll overtake us and drive us wherever
+they will."
+
+But she had not enough strength to pause. They were all running, and
+she with them. Another detachment of Cossacks appeared in front of
+them. Cries and wails went up from the crowd, which began to scatter
+in all directions. The Cossacks came on, as it were, in a broad chain.
+
+Many managed to break through, some with blood-stained faces and torn
+clothes. The others were driven forward from the rear and the sides
+and gradually became a compact mass. It was evident that the Cossacks
+were trying to get the crowd into the middle of the glade. Those who
+had broken through the ring at the very beginning had some hope of
+escape. There were about a hundred people in the ring. They were
+driven towards the town, and those who tried to escape were lashed
+with the _nagaika_.
+
+A few shots resounded in the distance. The provocateur fired the first
+shot--into the air. This aroused the anger of the Cossacks, who began
+to shoot at those who ran.
+
+Elisaveta and Alkina managed to escape the first ring together. But
+they could hear all around them the cries of the Cossacks. They paused
+and pressed close to an old oak, not knowing which way to turn. They
+were joined by Trirodov.
+
+"Follow me," he said to them; "I think I can find a less dangerous
+place."
+
+"What has become of our invited speaker?" asked Alkina.
+
+"Don't worry about that," was the impatient reply; "he was the first
+to be attended to. He's out of danger now. You'd better go on
+quickly."
+
+He walked confidently through the bushes and they followed him.
+
+The sounds made by the patrols of Cossacks were heard on every side.
+Suddenly the runners were confronted by the figure of a Cossack who
+stepped out from the bushes. He aimed his _nagaika_ at Elisaveta,
+but she, falling headlong, escaped the brunt of the blow. The Cossack
+bent down, caught Elisaveta by her plait of hair, and began to drag
+her after him. Elisaveta cried out from pain. Trirodov pulled out a
+revolver and shot him almost without taking aim. The Cossack cried out
+and let his victim go. All three then made their way through the
+bushes. A deep hollow cut their progress short.
+
+"Well, we are almost out of danger here," said Trirodov.
+
+They lowered themselves, almost rolled down to the bottom of the
+hollow. Their faces and hands bore scratches and their clothes were
+torn. On one of the sloping sides of the hollow they found a deep
+recess made by the rains, and now obscured by the bushes; and here
+they hid themselves.
+
+"Presently we'll make for the river-bank," said Trirodov. "We are
+quite close to it."
+
+Suddenly they heard the crackle of breaking twigs above them, followed
+by a revolver-shot and outcries. A running figure defined itself in
+the dark.
+
+"Kiril!" called Elisaveta in a whisper, "come here."
+
+Kiril heard her, and threw himself through the bushes in the direction
+of the hiding-place. Elisaveta could now see, quite close to her, his
+fatigued, desperate eyes. There was a loud, near report of a revolver.
+Kiril reeled; there was the sound of breaking twigs as he fell heavily
+and rolled down the hollow.
+
+Presently a running Cossack came down precipitately from above. He
+brushed so closely past them that a twig caught by his body struck
+Alkina's shoulder. But Alkina did not stir; pale, slender, and calm,
+she stood tightly pressing her body against the almost perpendicular
+wall of their refuge. The Cossack bent over Kiril, examined him
+attentively, then muttered as he straightened himself:
+
+"Well, there's no breath left in him. You're done for, my clever
+chap."
+
+Then he turned to climb back again. When the rustle of the parted
+bushes ceased Trirodov said:
+
+"Now we must walk carefully along this hollow until we come to the
+river. There is a bend in the river here in the direction of the
+town--we are bound to get somewhere almost across from my place. Then
+we must find our way to the other side somehow or other."
+
+Slowly and cautiously they made their way through the thick growths of
+the hollow. They walked in the dark--Trirodov and the two with him,
+his chance one and his fated one, sent him by the two Moirae, Aisa and
+Ananke.[20]
+
+The bushes became moist and a fresh breeze blew from the river. Then
+Alkina came close to Trirodov and whispered to him:
+
+"If you are glad that she loves you, tell me, and I will share your
+gladness."
+
+Trirodov pressed her hand warmly.
+
+The quiet, dim river lay before them. Beyond it the labours and
+dangers of life created by the dream of liberation awaited them.
+
+Soon the mist would rise above the river under the cold and witching
+moon--soon the misty veil of fantasy would lighten the tedious and
+commonplace life, and behind the veil of mist there would rise in dim
+outlines another kind of life, creative and unattainable.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+That night the streets of Skorodozh were alive with noises--which
+gradually died away. The frightened townsmen sprang from their warm
+beds, and peering through the half-opened blinds into the dark streets
+saw those who had been caught in the woods led away in the custody of
+the Cossacks. Then when the stamp of horses' hoofs and the hum of
+human voices subsided, the residents quietly went back to their beds,
+and were soon asleep. Lady Godiva would have been highly pleased with
+such modest people: they looked, yet did not show themselves, and did
+not hinder.
+
+They went to bed again, and muttered something to their wives. The
+freedom-loving bourgeois grumbled:
+
+"They won't let you sleep. The horses' hoofs make such a noise. They
+might employ bicycles instead of horses."
+
+The night passed like a nightmare for many. It seemed to grip all life
+with a cold apprehensiveness, and burdened one's soul with a hate
+towards the earthly life which suffered agony from its bondage to the
+flaming, exultant Dragon. Why did he exult? Was it because we beings
+of the earth are evil and cruel, and love to torment, to see drops of
+blood and tears?
+
+Our dark, earthly nature is suffused with a cruel voluptuousness. Such
+is the imperfection of the human breed that a single human vessel
+contains all the deepest ecstasies of love and all the lowest delights
+of lust, and the mixture is poisoned with shame and with pain--and
+with the desire for shame and pain. From one fountain come both the
+gladdening raptures and the gladdening lusts of the passions. We
+torment others only because it gives us joy.
+
+After the agonies on the way from the wood, after a search had been
+made, many of the prisoners were dispatched to prison. Others were set
+free.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A restless, sluggish, and unfriendly morning rose over the city. From
+the wood, just beyond the town, came the half-pleasant,
+half-disagreeable odour of a forest fire.
+
+The news about the two dead victims, Kiril and another workman,
+Kliukin, a family man, soon spread. Their comrades were excited.
+
+The corpses had been taken to the mortuary of the town hospital. A
+large crowd, grave, silent, and resolute in mood, had gathered quite
+early near the mortuary. It mostly consisted of labouring men, and
+their wives and children. The large square in front of the hospital,
+with its dirty, unpaved spots, its trampled grass, its grey, gloomy
+little shops, appeared oppressed by an atmosphere of early morning
+fatigue. The slant rays of the rising Dragon, veiled with a light
+mist, fell upon the scowling faces of the crowd as indifferently as
+upon the fence or the closed gates. The Ancient Dragon is not our sun.
+
+The faces of those who stood near the closed gates were scowling. No
+one was permitted to enter the hospital. Within, preparations were
+going on for a secret burial of the victims. Tumultuous voices of
+anger rose in the crowd.
+
+A detachment of Cossacks soon appeared on the scene. They came on
+quickly, and paused near the crowd. The beautiful smooth horses
+trembled sensitively. The riders were handsome, sun-burnt, black-eyed,
+and black-browed; their black hair, not cut in the military fashion,
+was visible from under their high hats. The women in the crowd looked
+at them now and then with involuntary admiration.
+
+The tumult increased, the crowd continued to grow. The whole square
+was alive with people. There seemed to be imminent danger of a bloody
+collision.
+
+Trirodov went that morning to the chief of the rural police and to the
+officer of the gendarmerie. He wished to convince them that a secret
+burial would only add to the workers' excitement. The chief listened
+to him in a dull way, and kept on repeating:
+
+"Impossible. I can't...."
+
+He gazed down persistently. This caused his neck to look tight, poured
+out like copper. And he kept on turning his ring round his finger as
+if it were a talisman protecting him from hostile calumny.
+
+The colonel of the gendarmes proved easier to deal with. In the end
+Trirodov succeeded in obtaining an order for the surrender of the
+bodies of the dead men to their families.
+
+The chief of the rural police arrived in the square. The crowd greeted
+him with discordant and angry cries. He stood up in his trap and
+motioned with his hand. Every one grew silent. He addressed them:
+
+"Would you like to bury them yourselves? Very well, you shall have
+them. Only be careful that nothing happens which shouldn't happen. In
+any case, the Cossacks will be present, in an emergency. And now I
+will see that the bodies of your comrades are delivered to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+The sun was already high when Elisaveta awoke. She quickly recalled
+all that happened the night before. She took but little time in
+dressing and, urged by a suppressed excitement, was soon on the way to
+Trirodov in her carriage. Trirodov met her at the gates. He was
+returning from town, and he told her briefly about his conferences
+with the authorities. Elisaveta said resolutely:
+
+"I want to see the family of the dead man."
+
+"I don't know where they live. We shall have to see Voronok first. He
+has all the information."
+
+"Shall we find him at home now?"
+
+"I think so," said Trirodov. "If he's at home we'll all start
+together."
+
+They drove off. The dusty road trailed behind the rapid wheels, and
+revealed vistas of depressing commonplaceness. The light dust, stirred
+by the wheels into the sultry air, trailed behind the carriage like a
+long serpent. The high flaming Dragon looked down from his
+inaccessible sky with furious eyes upon the impoverished earth. There
+was a thirst for blood in the hot glister of his rays, and there was a
+soaring exultation because men had shed some priceless drops of the
+wine of life. In the midst of these open, heat-swept spaces, Trirodov,
+drawn at this moment into the crowded town life, was addressing his
+companion in dull, everyday words:
+
+"They searched many houses early this morning. They found a great deal
+of literature at Stchemilov's. He's been arrested."
+
+He also repeated the rumour of whippings at the police-station.
+Elisaveta was silent.
+
+Voronok's house was situated in a very convenient place, somewhere
+between the centre of the town and the factory section. This house had
+many visitors because Voronok was an assiduous worker in the local
+Social Democratic Party. His chief function was to carry on propaganda
+among the working men and the young, and incidentally to instil into
+them party views and a true understanding of the aims of the working
+classes.
+
+Young boys used to come to Voronok, his pupils from the town school,
+and these brought their comrades and acquaintances with them--those
+whom they met at home or by chance. They were for the most part
+charming, sincere, and intelligent youngsters, but very dishevelled
+and very self-conscious. Voronok taught them very heartily and with
+good results. They assimilated his teachings: a sympathy towards the
+working proletariat, a hate towards the satiated bourgeois, a
+consciousness of the irreconcilability of the interests of the two
+classes, and a few random facts from history. The ragamuffins from the
+town school invariably opened every visit to Voronok by complaining
+against the school rules and the inspector. They complained chiefly
+about trifles. They would say with an injured air:
+
+"They compel us to wear official badges upon our caps."
+
+"They treat us as if we were little children."
+
+"They brand us, so that every one may know that we are the boys of the
+town school."
+
+"They force us to cut our hair; why should our hair worry them?"
+
+Voronok sympathized with them fully. This helped him to keep them in a
+state of revolt. Their no less unkempt friends, who did not go to
+school, also found something to complain about--if not against their
+parents, then against the police, indeed against anything that
+occurred to them. But their complaints did not contain quite that
+poison and steadiness which was instilled into the schoolboys with all
+the force of a school. Voronok used to give both classes pamphlets
+that cost a kopeck and were intensely strict in their party purity.
+
+The younger of the working men also used to come to Voronok's house.
+There were still others, a ragged, grumbling lot, who appeared to
+carry an air of eternal injury with them, as if they had lost all
+capacity for smiling and jesting. Voronok took great pains to read the
+pamphlets with them, and to explain to them anything that was not
+especially clear. Regular hours were allotted for these readings and
+conversations. By such means Voronok succeeded in developing the
+desired mood in his visitors; all the party shibboleths were
+assimilated by them quickly and thoroughly. He also gave them books
+for home reading. Many used to buy this literature occasionally.
+
+In this manner, a flood of books and pamphlets continually poured
+through Voronok's house. Sometimes he selected whole libraries, and
+sent them by trustworthy people through the villages.
+
+Elisaveta and Trirodov found Voronok at home. He did not much resemble
+a party workman; he was gracious, spoke little, and produced the
+impression of a reserved, well-trained man. He always wore starched
+linen, a high collar, a fashionable tie and a bowler hat. He had his
+hair trimmed short, and his beard was most neatly brushed.
+
+"I will go with you, with pleasure," said Voronok amiably.
+
+He seized his thin cane, put on his bowler hat, took a cursory glance
+of himself in the mirror, and said again:
+
+"I'm ready. But perhaps you'd like to rest?"
+
+They declined, and the three of them started off. The painful silence
+of the bright streets hovered about them stealthily and expectantly.
+They seemed strangers among these wooden huts, depressing fences, and
+the tottering little bridges. They wanted to ask:
+
+"Why are we going?"
+
+But this only seemed to bring them closer, and to make the quick beats
+of their hearts more friendly. The whole picture of the life of the
+poor was here in all its sordidness; dirty, malicious children played
+here, and abused each other, and wrangled; a drunkard reeled; grey
+buckets swung on a grey wooden yoke across the shoulders of a grey
+woman in a worn grey dress.
+
+There was everyday commonplaceness in the poverty of the house, where
+lay the hastily prepared yellow corpse. A pale-faced woman stood at
+its head, and wailed quietly and ceaselessly. Three pale, sandy-haired
+children came in and looked at the visitors; their gaze was at once
+strange and stupid, neither joyous nor sad, but dulled for ever.
+
+Elisaveta went up to the woman. The blooming, rosy, graceful girl
+stood at the side of the pale, tear-eyed woman, and was quietly saying
+something to her; the latter was nodding her head and crooning
+unnecessary, belated words. Trirodov turned quietly to Voronok:
+
+"Is any money needed?"
+
+Voronok whispered back:
+
+"No, his comrades will bury him. We'll make a collection among
+ourselves. Afterwards the family will need some money."
+
+The day of the funeral arrived. The factories stopped work. There was
+a clear sky, and under it the turbulent crowd; the light currents of
+incense streamed in the air, and its sumptuous aroma mingled with the
+light odour of the smoke that came from the forest cinders. The
+schoolboys struck and went to the funeral. Some of the schoolgirls
+came also. The more timid ones remained in school.
+
+The children from Trirodov's colony decided to come. They brought two
+wreaths with them. The quiet children came also. They kept by
+themselves and were silent.
+
+The entire town police were present at the funeral. Even police from
+outlying districts were here. As always, petty provocateurs lurked
+among the crowd.
+
+The crowd moved calmly and solemnly. Above it the wreaths swung, the
+red flowers glimmered vividly, the red ribbons fluttered. The Cossacks
+rode alongside. There was austerity and suspicion in their looks--they
+were prepared to suppress any demonstration. The chanting of a prayer
+could be heard. Each time the subsided chant was renewed, the Cossacks
+listened with great intentness. No--it was only the prayer again.
+
+Elisaveta and Trirodov walked with the crowd behind the coffin. They
+spoke of that which enraptures those who seek rapture and frightens
+those who seek repose. Poignant were Elisaveta's impressions as she
+stepped upon the sharp cobblestones of the dusty, littered pavement.
+
+The road was long. The austere harmony was kept up for some time. At
+last the cemetery was reached. Some dejected moments were passed in
+waiting by the church. The last services were pronounced hurriedly.
+
+The Cossacks moved about in bustling fashion, and as before formed a
+circle around the throng.
+
+The coffin was carried out of the church. The wreaths swung once more
+above the crowd, which moved on chanting.
+
+Suddenly the women's lament grew louder--the women's lament above the
+grave. The instructor Bodeyev then stood at the head of the coffin. He
+began in his shrilly-thin, but far-carrying voice:
+
+"Comrades, we have gathered to-day at the grave of our brother...."
+
+The colonel of the gendarmes went up to him, and said sternly:
+
+"It is forbidden. I must ask you to do without speeches or
+demonstrations."
+
+Bodeyev asked in astonishment:
+
+"But why?"
+
+"No, I must ask you not to. It is forbidden," said the colonel dryly.
+
+Bodeyev shrugged his shoulders and remarked as he moved away:
+
+"I submit to brute strength."
+
+"To the law," the officer in the blue uniform corrected him sharply.
+
+The dead man's comrades, crowding near the grave, followed one another
+with handfuls of soil, which they threw on the coffin. The damp, heavy
+soil struck the coffin with a hollow sound.
+
+The grave was being filled up. Every one stood silently, and as
+silently left the spot.
+
+Then suddenly a voice was heard.
+
+And in an instant the whole crowd began to sing words of a proud,
+melancholy, revolutionary song. The Cossacks looked on morosely. The
+command was given. The Cossacks quickly mounted their horses. The
+singing stopped abruptly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Once outside the cemetery gates, Elisaveta said:
+
+"I am hungry!"
+
+"Let's go to my place," suggested Trirodov.
+
+"Thank you," said Elisaveta. "But I'd rather go to some tavern."
+
+Trirodov looked at her in astonishment, but made no objection. He
+understood her curiosity.
+
+The tavern was crowded and noisy. Trirodov and Elisaveta sat down near
+the window, at a small table covered with a dirty, spotted cloth. They
+ordered cold meat and light beer.
+
+At one of the tables, a young man in a red shirt sat drinking. He was
+in a boastful mood. Behind his ear stuck a cigarette. The fellow
+intruded upon his neighbours, and shouted:
+
+"Who's drunk?"
+
+"Well, who?" asked a young working man at the next table
+contemptuously.
+
+"I am drunk!" exclaimed the drunkard in the red shirt. "And who am I,
+do you know, eh?"
+
+"Yes, who are you? What sort of a bird are you?" asked the young
+working man in the black calico blouse derisively.
+
+"I am Borodulin!" said the drunkard, and there was an expression on
+his face as if he had pronounced a famous name.
+
+His neighbours roared with laughter, and shouted coarse, derisive
+words. The fellow in the red shirt cried angrily:
+
+"What do you think? Is Borodulin, in your opinion, a peasant?"
+
+The working man in the black blouse began to get annoyed. His lean
+cheeks grew red. He sprang from his place, and shouted angrily:
+
+"Well, who are you? Answer."
+
+"I'm a peasant on my passport. An army reserve man. But that's not
+all, I assure you," said Borodulin.
+
+"Well, who then are you?" repeated the young working man angrily, as
+he took a step towards him.
+
+"And do you know what I am on my card? Can you guess?" asked
+Borodulin.
+
+He blinked, and tried to look important. The comrades of the young
+working man tried to dissuade him from pursuing his inquiries, and
+whispered as they drew him away:
+
+"Don't waste your time on him. He's a nobody."
+
+"I'm a detective, that's what I am!" said Borodulin with his important
+air.
+
+The working man in the black blouse spat contemptuously and walked
+back to his table. Borodulin went on:
+
+"You think I'm out of my senses. No, old chap, you're mistaken. I'm an
+experienced man. What do you think of me now? I'm a detective. I can
+arrest any one!"
+
+The men at the neighbouring tables listened to him and exchanged
+glances. Borodulin went on boasting.
+
+"Suppose I put the police on to you?" asked a merchant at one of the
+middle tables angrily. His small black eyes sparkled.
+
+Borodulin burst out laughing, and shouted:
+
+"I have the police in the hollow of my hand. That's where I have
+them."
+
+The customers grumbled. Threats were heard:
+
+"You'd better go away while you're still whole."
+
+He paid his bill and left. Suddenly the sound of a crowd gathering in
+the street was heard. From the window Elisaveta and Trirodov could see
+the fellow in the red shirt sauntering backwards and forwards in the
+street, only a few paces from the tavern, and annoying the passers-by.
+He could be heard shouting:
+
+"I'll report you! I'll arrest you! Hand over your ten kopecks."
+
+Many, afraid of him, acceded to his request. Borodulin clutched at
+every passer-by. He threw off the men's caps, he pinched the women,
+while he pulled young boys by the ear. The women ran from him
+shrieking. The more timid men also ran. The bolder ones paused in
+menacing attitudes. These Borodulin did not dare to molest. Small boys
+ran behind him in a crowd, laughing and hooting. Borodulin grumbled.
+
+"You'd better look out. Do you know who I am?"
+
+"Well, who are you?" asked a young fellow whom he jostled. "You're a
+pothouse plug."
+
+A crowd formed round them. Their faces were morose and unfriendly.
+Borodulin was afraid, but he showed a bold front and boasted. He
+shouted:
+
+"Two or three of you will be necessary!"
+
+A sudden attack was made upon Borodulin. A young robust fellow sprang
+forward from the crowd with a shout, an enormous cobblestone in his
+hand.
+
+"What's this dog showing his teeth for?"
+
+He hit Borodulin on the head with the stone. It was unfortunately too
+well aimed. Borodulin fell. Others attacked him as he lay there. The
+workman who hit him with the stone made his escape.
+
+Elisaveta and Trirodov were looking out of the window. Trirodov
+exclaimed:
+
+"The Cossacks!"
+
+The people in the street scattered in all directions. The mutilated
+corpse lay in a pool of blood on the pavement.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Ostrov caused Trirodov a great deal of annoyance. More than once
+Trirodov returned to the earlier circumstances of their acquaintance
+and to their recent meeting at Skorodozh.
+
+The week having elapsed, Ostrov paid Trirodov another visit. That
+whole week Ostrov could not get rid of his confusion and uneasiness.
+The details of his meeting with Trirodov became absurdly entangled in
+his memory. He kept on forgetting the day of the week it was. The week
+passed rather quickly for him. This was possibly due to his having
+made several interesting acquaintances. He had become quite a
+noticeable personage about town.
+
+Ostrov made his visit late on Tuesday evening. He was received at
+once, and led into a chamber on the ground floor. Trirodov came in
+almost immediately. Not a little astonished, he asked unwillingly:
+
+"Well, what can I do for you, Denis Alekseyevitch?"
+
+"I've come for the money," said Ostrov gruffly. "To receive the
+promised relief at your bountiful hands."
+
+"I did not expect you until Wednesday," replied Trirodov.
+
+"Why Wednesday when Tuesday is just as good?" said Ostrov with a
+savage smile. "Or do you find it so hard to part with your cash? Have
+you become a bourgeois, Giorgiy Sergeyevitch?"
+
+Trirodov suddenly appeared to recall something as, with a tinge of
+derision in his smile, he asked:
+
+"I beg your pardon, Denis Alekseyevitch, I thought you were coming
+to-morrow, as was arranged. I haven't the money ready for you."
+
+Ostrov was annoyed. His broad face grew dark. He exclaimed, his eyes
+red with anger:
+
+"You asked me to come in a week, and I've come in a week. You don't
+expect me to come here forty times, do you? I have other business.
+You've promised me the money, and so hand it over. You must loosen
+your purse-strings whether you like it or not."
+
+He grew more savage with every word. In the end he struck the small
+round white table that stood on slender legs in front of him with his
+stout fist. Trirodov answered calmly:
+
+"It is now Tuesday. That means the week is not up yet."
+
+"What do you mean it isn't up?" said Ostrov. "I came to see you on
+Tuesday. Do you count eight days in a week, in the French fashion? You
+won't come off so easily."
+
+"You came here on Wednesday," replied Trirodov. "And this is why I
+haven't the money ready for you."
+
+Ostrov was unable to grasp the situation. He looked at Trirodov with
+some perplexity, and showed his irritation.
+
+"What do you mean by saying that you haven't it ready? Why should you
+get it ready? All you've got to do is to take it out of your safe,
+count it out, and give it to me--that's the whole method of procedure.
+It isn't as if it were a lot of money--it's a mere trifle."
+
+"It may be a trifle for some people. It isn't at all a trifle for me,"
+said Trirodov.
+
+"Don't pretend that you're poor! Some one might think you were a
+forsaken orphan! What do you expect us to believe?"
+
+Trirodov rose from his seat, looked with stern intentness into
+Ostrov's eyes, and said resolutely:
+
+"In a word, I can't give you the money to-day. Try to come here
+to-morrow about this time."
+
+Ostrov rose involuntarily from his chair. He experienced a strange
+sensation, as if he were being lifted from his seat by his collar and
+forcibly led to the door. He fired his parting shot:
+
+"Only don't think that you can pull wool over my eyes to-morrow. I'm
+not the sort of a chap whom you can feed on promises."
+
+His small eyes gleamed malignantly. His broad jaws trembled savagely.
+His feet seemed to carry him to the door of themselves.
+
+"No," answered Trirodov, "I do not intend to fool you. You will get
+your money tomorrow."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ostrov came at the same hour next evening. This time he was led into
+Trirodov's study.
+
+"Well," asked Ostrov rather impudently, "do you mean to give me the
+money? Or will you play the same farce once more?"
+
+Trirodov pulled a bundle of bank-notes out of a drawer in his
+writing-table, and said as he gave them to Ostrov:
+
+"Please count them. There should be two thousand."
+
+Ostrov whistled and said gruffly:
+
+"That's too little. I asked for much more."
+
+"That's all you'll get," said Trirodov resolutely. "It ought to last
+you quite a while."
+
+"Perhaps you will add a trifle," said Ostrov with a stupid smile.
+
+"I can't," said Trirodov coldly.
+
+"I can't leave town on this money," said Ostrov in a threatening
+voice.
+
+Trirodov frowned, and looked sternly at Ostrov. New thoughts began to
+take shape in his mind, and he said:
+
+"You won't find it to your advantage to remain, and everything you do
+here will be known to me."
+
+"Very well, I'll go away," said Ostrov with a stupid smile. He took
+the money, counted it carefully, and put it into his greasy pocket. He
+was about to take his leave, but Trirodov detained him.
+
+"Don't go yet. We'll have a talk."
+
+At the same instant a quiet boy in his white clothes appeared from
+some dark corner. He paused behind Trirodov's chair, and looked at
+Ostrov. His wide dark eyes, looking out of his pale face, brought
+Ostrov into a state of painful dread. He lowered himself slowly into
+the chair near the writing-table. His head felt giddy. Then a strange
+mood of nonchalance and submission took possession of him. His face
+bore an expression of apathetic readiness to do everything that he
+might be commanded to do by some one stronger than himself--whose will
+had conquered his. Trirodov looked attentively at Ostrov and said:
+
+"Well, tell me what I want to know. I wish to hear from your own lips
+what you are doing here, and what you are up to. You couldn't have
+done much in such a short time, but you surely have found out
+something. Speak!"
+
+Ostrov sniggered rather stupidly, fidgeted as if he were sitting on
+springs, and said:
+
+"Very well, I'll tell you something interesting and won't charge you a
+penny for it."
+
+Trirodov, without taking off his heavy, fixed gaze from Ostrov's face,
+repeated:
+
+"Speak!"
+
+The quiet boy looked with his eyes full of intense questioning
+straight into Ostrov's eyes.
+
+"Do you know who killed the Chief of Police?" asked Ostrov.
+
+Trirodov was silent. Ostrov's whole body twitched as he kept up his
+absurd sniggering.
+
+"He killed him and went away," went on Ostrov. "He made his escape by
+taking advantage of the confusion and the darkness, as the newspapers
+would say. The police have not caught him to this day, and the
+authorities do not even know who he is."
+
+"And do you know?" asked Trirodov in a cold, deliberate voice.
+
+"I know, but I won't tell you," replied Ostrov rather venomously.
+
+"You shall tell me," said Trirodov with conviction. Then he added in
+even a more loud, determined, and commanding voice:
+
+"Tell me, who killed the Chief of Police?"
+
+Ostrov fell back into his chair. His red face became tinged with a
+sudden grey pallor. His eyes, now bloodshot, half closed like those of
+a prostrate doll with the eye mechanism in its stomach. There was
+witheredness, almost lifelessness, in Ostrov's voice:
+
+"Poltinin."
+
+"Your friend?" asked Trirodov. "Well, go on."
+
+"He is now being sought for," went on Ostrov in the same lifeless way.
+
+"Why did Poltinin kill the Chief of Police?"
+
+Ostrov resumed his stupid snigger, and said:
+
+"It's a matter of very delicate politics. That means, it simply had to
+be done. I won't tell you why. Indeed, I couldn't tell you if I really
+wished to. I don't know myself, I can only venture to guess. But what
+is a guess worth?"
+
+"Yes," said Trirodov, "it is quite true that it is impossible for you
+to know this. Continue your tale."
+
+"This same affair," said Ostrov, "is a very profitable article for us
+just now. Indeed, an article in the budget, as they say."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Trirodov's face did not reveal any astonishment, as Ostrov went on:
+
+"We have Potseluytchikov among us, a very lively individual."
+
+"A thief?" asked Trirodov abruptly.
+
+Ostrov smiled almost consciously, and said:
+
+"Not exactly a thief, still one's got to be careful with him. An able
+man in his way."
+
+Ostrov's eyes assumed a frankly insolent expression. Trirodov asked:
+
+"What sort of relation has he to this article in your budget?"
+
+"We send him out to the rich men of the place."
+
+"To blackmail them?" asked Trirodov.
+
+Ostrov replied with complete readiness:
+
+"Precisely. Let us suppose that he comes to Mr. Moneybags. 'I have,'
+he tells him, 'a thing to tell you in confidence, a thing of great
+personal interest to you.' Left alone with Mr. Moneybags he says to
+him: 'Five hundred roubles, if you please!' The other, it goes without
+saying, is up on his hind legs. 'What for? What sort of demand is
+this?' 'I mean what I say,' says the other chap. 'Otherwise,' he says,
+'I will put your eldest son in gaol. I can prove that your eldest son
+has had something to do with the murder of the gallant Chief of
+Police.'"
+
+"They give?" asked Trirodov.
+
+"Some give, some escort you out of the door," replied Ostrov.
+
+"A lovely crowd!" observed Trirodov contemptuously. "And what may you
+be planning now?"
+
+With the same involuntary obedience Ostrov told Trirodov how their
+company was conspiring to steal a miracle-performing ikon from a
+neighbouring monastery. The plan was to burn the ikon and to sell the
+precious stones with which it was covered. It was a difficult affair,
+as the ikon was under guard. But Ostrov's friends were counting on
+taking advantage of one of the summer feasts, when the monks,
+escorting distinguished pilgrims, would have drunk freely. The thieves
+had still a month in which to make preparations for the theft; they
+meant to make use of this time by becoming friendly with the monks,
+and in this way familiarize themselves with all the conditions.
+
+Trirodov, having listened without interrupting, said to Ostrov:
+
+"Forget that you have told me all this. Goodbye."
+
+Ostrov gave a start. He appeared as if he had just awakened. Without
+comprehending the causes of his oppressive confusion he bade his host
+goodbye and left.
+
+Trirodov decided that the bishop of the local diocese must be warned
+of the contemplated theft of the miracle-performing ikon.
+
+Bishop Pelagius lived in the monastery in which the ikon of the Mother
+of God, so revered by the people, was preserved. The relics of an old
+sainted monk were preserved in the same monastery. Men came from all
+ends of Russia to worship these holy relics. That was why this
+monastery was considered wealthy.
+
+Trirodov thought for a long time as to how he might best inform the
+bishop of the contemplated theft. The thought of writing an anonymous
+letter was repugnant to him. He decided that it was better to speak to
+the bishop in person, or to write him a letter with his real name. But
+then the question remained as to how to explain his own knowledge of
+the conspiracy. He himself might be suspected as an accomplice of the
+criminals. As it was, the local townsmen had none too friendly an eye
+for Trirodov.
+
+He dreaded entangling himself in this dark affair. He already began to
+feel vexed with himself for his strange curiosity that impelled him to
+question Ostrov about his affairs. It would have been better perhaps
+if he were ignorant of the conspiracy. In any case, Trirodov saw
+clearly that it was impossible for him to maintain silence. He thought
+that the dark aspects of monastic life did not justify the evil deed
+planned by Ostrov's companions. Besides, the consequences of this deed
+might well prove very dangerous.
+
+Trirodov decided that there was nothing left for him to do but to pay
+a visit to the monastery. Once on the spot, he thought that some
+opportunity of informing the bishop would occur to him. But as this
+visit was very unpleasant to him, he delayed it a very long time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Trirodov at last realized that he was in love with Elisaveta. He knew
+too well the nature of this delicious and painful emotion. It had come
+again and once more filled the world with light. He had looked
+enigmatically upon this broad, eternally inaccessible world, full of
+past memories and past people. But his love of Elisaveta meant his
+love and acceptance of the world, the whole world.
+
+This emotion aroused dismay in Trirodov. To the perplexities of the
+past, not yet thrown off his shoulders, and to those of the present
+begun with a strange, as yet unmeasured influence, were to be added
+the perplexities of the future, of a new and unexpected bond. And was
+not love in itself a means for realizing one's dreams?
+
+Trirodov made effort to crush this new love in himself, and to forget
+Elisaveta. He tried to keep away from the Rameyevs, not to come to
+their house--but with each day his love only increased. His thoughts
+and musings of Elisaveta grew more and more persistent. They became
+interwoven with one another and grafted themselves on to his soul.
+More and more a pencil in his hand guided itself to outline on paper
+now her austere profile--softened by the youthful joy of
+liberation--now her simple costume, now a rapid sketch of her
+shoulders and neck, or the knot of her broad belt.
+
+Again and again a strong hope awakened in him that he might strangle
+and crush the gentle blossom of his delicious love. Several days had
+already passed without his visiting the Rameyevs. He did not even come
+on those days on which they grew accustomed to expect him.
+
+Elisaveta thought this a deliberate incivility, and it hurt her
+feelings. But whenever Piotr abused him she defended him. Her
+imagination began to evoke more and more frequently the features of
+his face: his deep, observing glance; his proud, ironic smile; his
+pale face, clean-shaven like an actor's, and cold like a mask. How
+sweetly and how bitterly she was in love with him--her sweet vision
+betrayed itself in the gleam in her eyes.
+
+Rameyev had grown fond of Trirodov, and he missed his presence. He
+found it a pleasant diversion to chat with Trirodov, and even to
+wrangle with him sometimes. He made two calls at Trirodov's house, and
+did not find him in. Rameyev wrote several invitations. He received
+courteous but evasive replies expressing regret at not being able to
+come.
+
+One evening Rameyev growled at Piotr:
+
+"He stopped coming because of your rudeness." Piotr replied sharply:
+
+"Let him stay away. I'm very glad."
+
+Rameyev looked at him sternly, and said:
+
+"But I'm not glad. There's one interesting man in this wilderness, and
+we frighten him away."
+
+Piotr excused himself. He felt uneasy. He walked out of the house
+alone, aimlessly, wishing only to escape his own relatives.
+
+The sunset blazed for a long time, tormented itself with its
+unwillingness to die; it lingered on as if it were its last day, and
+at last expired. The whole sky became blue--exquisitely blue. But to
+the north-west an edge of it was translucently green. The quiet stars
+trembled in the blue heights. The moon, which had looked for some time
+a pale white in the luminous clearness, now rose yellow and distinct.
+Almost total darkness covered the earth. There was a coolness along
+the bank of the river--after the hot day. There was an odour of a
+forest fire, and it, too, softened its unpleasant, malignant
+bitterness in the dark evening coolness. A green-haired, green-eyed
+water-nymph bathed near the low, dark dam; she splashed about in the
+water, which struck the obstruction with a brittle sound, and in
+rhythmic response to it the stream laughed most sonorously.
+
+Piotr walked quietly upon the path along the river-bank, and thought
+of Elisaveta sadly and languorously--or rather, he recalled
+her--evoked her in vision--involuntarily yielded himself to the
+melancholy play of the nervous fantasies of his brain. The peaceful
+silence of the evening, so much at one with him, said to him without
+words, yet comprehensibly, that the pitch of his soul was too quiet,
+too feeble for Elisaveta, who was so strong, so erect, and so simple.
+
+He had so little audacity--so little daring. He only believed in
+Christ, in Antichrist, in his love, in her indifference--he only
+believed! He only sought for the truth, and could not create it--he
+could evoke neither a god from nonentity, nor a devil from dialectical
+argument; neither a conquering love from carnal emotions, nor a
+conquering hate from stubborn "Noes." And he loved Elisaveta! He had
+loved her a long time, with a jealous and helpless love.
+
+He loved! What sadness! The languor of the springtide and the
+joyousness of the morning breeze--the distant ringing of bells--tears
+in one's eyes--and she will smile--pass by--the dear one! What
+sadness! How dark everything is upon this earth--love as well as
+indifference.
+
+Suddenly Piotr saw Trirodov quite near him. Trirodov was walking
+straight upon Piotr, as if he did not see him; he moved quickly,
+almost automatically, like a mechanical doll. He held a hat in the
+hand that hung loose at his side--his face was pale--he had a wild
+look--his eyes were aflame. He uttered disconnected words. He walked
+so impetuously that Piotr had no time to turn aside. They came face to
+face, almost colliding with one another. Trirodov gave a start when he
+saw that he was not alone. His face had an expression of fright. Piotr
+got out of his way awkwardly, but Trirodov walked rapidly up to him,
+and looked intently as he turned his own back to the moonlight. Piotr,
+involuntarily yielding to this movement, also turned round. The moon
+now looked straight into Piotr's handsome face, which seemed pale and
+strange in the cold, lifeless light.
+
+Trirodov began in a trembling, agitated voice:
+
+"Ah, that is you?"
+
+"As you see," said Piotr in a tone of derision.
+
+"I didn't expect to meet you here," said Trirodov. "I took you for...."
+
+But he did not finish. Piotr, somewhat vexed, asked him:
+
+"For whom?"
+
+Without replying to the question Trirodov inquired:
+
+"But where? ... There's no one here. You didn't hear...?"
+
+"I wasn't trained to eavesdropping," replied Piotr; "all the more
+since these fragments of poetry are inaccessible to me."
+
+"Who talks of eavesdropping?" exclaimed Trirodov. "No, I thought that
+you had unwillingly heard some words which might have sounded strange,
+enigmatic, or terrible in your ears."
+
+"I came here by chance," said Piotr. "I was taking a mere stroll, and
+was not here to listen to any one."
+
+Trirodov looked attentively at Piotr; then lowered his head with a
+sigh, and said quietly:
+
+"Forgive me. My nerves are in a bad state. I have grown accustomed to
+living with my fantasies, and in the peaceful society of my quiet
+children. I love seclusion."
+
+"Where did your quiet children come from?" asked Piotr somewhat
+contemptuously.
+
+But Trirodov continued as though he had not heard.
+
+"Please forgive me. I too often accept for reality that which exists
+only in my imagination. Perhaps always. I live devoted to my dreams."
+
+There was so poignant a sadness in these words and in the way they
+were uttered that Piotr felt an involuntary pity for Trirodov. His
+hate strangely vanished--as the moon vanishes at the rising of the
+sun.
+
+Trirodov said with quiet sadness:
+
+"I have so many strange whims and ways. It is in vain that I go to see
+people. It is far better for me to be alone with my innocent, quiet
+children, with my secrets and dreams."
+
+"Why better?" asked Piotr.
+
+"I sometimes feel that people interfere with me," said Trirodov. "They
+weary me in themselves--and no less with their petty, commonplace
+affairs. And what are they to me? There is only one thing of which I
+can be sure--that is myself. It is a great task to be with people.
+They give me so little, and for that they thirstily and malignantly
+drink my whole soul. How often have I left their company exhausted,
+humiliated, crushed. What a holiday for me my solitude is, my sweet
+solitude! If it were only with some one else!"
+
+"Still you would rather it were with some one else!" replied Piotr
+with sudden malice.
+
+Trirodov looked at him steadily and said:
+
+"Life is tragic. She destroys all illusions with the power of her
+pitiless irony. You know, of course, that Elisaveta's soul is a tragic
+soul, and that a great boldness is necessary in order to approach her,
+and to say to her the great Yes of life. Yes, Elisaveta...."
+
+Piotr's voice trembled as he shouted in jealous rage:
+
+"Elisaveta! Why do you mention Elisaveta?"
+
+Trirodov looked steadily at Piotr. He asked rather slowly--in a
+strangely sounding voice:
+
+"You are not afraid?"
+
+"What is there to be afraid of?" replied Piotr morosely. "I am not at
+all a tragic person. My path is clear to me, and I know who guides
+me."
+
+"You don't know that," said Trirodov. "Besides, Elena is lovely. He
+who fears to take the grand and the terrible, he who loves tender
+melodies, for him there is Elena."
+
+Piotr was silent. Some sort of new--perhaps alien--thoughts swarmed in
+his head. He listened to them, and suddenly said:
+
+"You haven't visited us for a long time, and you are very much liked
+in our house. You would be welcome. You may come when you like, and
+you may talk or be silent, as suits your mood."
+
+Trirodov smiled in response.
+
+Piotr Matov returned home quite late in a dazed state of mind. Every
+one had already sat down to supper. Elisaveta glanced at him
+curiously--as if she expected another person there instead of him.
+
+"I've come late," said Piotr confusedly. "I don't know how I managed
+to wander off so far."
+
+He could not understand why he was so flustered. He barely recognized
+Elisaveta dressed up as a boy in her sailor jacket and short breeches.
+She sat so erect there, and smiled her abstract, indifferent smile.
+
+Elena, blushing for some unknown reason, moved silently closer--and
+there was a strange timorousness in her movement--a timorous desire.
+Piotr complied with her wish, and sat down at her side. She looked at
+him tenderly, lovingly. Her glances touched him. He thought:
+
+"Why do I not love Elena? Or is it she alone that I really love?
+Perhaps some mistake of the will had dimmed my eyes?"
+
+He conversed with her gently and tenderly, and as he looked at her
+again and again, a new love took spark in him. It was as if by some
+prodigious power the strange being at the river-bank had instilled
+this new love into him. Elena's heart beat joyfully.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+After that evening Trirodov, suppressing his devotion to quiet
+loneliness, once more began to visit the Rameyevs. He resisted no
+longer the all-powerful desire to see Elisaveta, to look into the
+depth of her blue eyes, to listen to the golden sonorousness of her
+words, and to feel the breathing and the witchery of her fresh,
+primitive strength. It was so pleasant to look upon her simple attire,
+upon the trusting openness of her shoulders, upon the light tan of her
+feet, and upon the austere outlines of her face.
+
+Elisaveta's sunlit depth became transformed for Trirodov into a blue,
+fathomless height. Elisaveta's love grew stronger; to grow stronger
+was its desire, and it wished to surmount all intolerable obstacles.
+
+Rameyev looked at Elisaveta and Trirodov, and he was consumed by a
+strange, mature joy. He seemed to think:
+
+"They will marry and bring me grandchildren."
+
+There were already certain hours in which they expected him. He and
+Elisaveta often remained alone. Something in their natures drew them
+apart from other people, whether strangers or kin. They would go off
+somewhere into a neglected part of the garden, where under the spread
+net of superb black poplars the agreeable aroma of thyme reached them
+with a gentle poignancy--and here they loved to chat with one another.
+
+Had he been alone instead of with Elisaveta, he could not have
+expressed his thoughts more simply or more candidly. They spoke of so
+many things--they tried, as it were, to contain the whole world within
+the rigid bounds of rapid words.
+
+As they strolled along the high bank of the river, under the broad
+shadows of the mighty black poplars and strange black maples, and
+listened to the loud, cheerful twitter of the birds that came to the
+bushes, Elisaveta said:
+
+"The sensation of existence and of the fullness and joy of life is
+delicious. A new sky seems to have opened above my head, and for the
+first time the violets and the lilies of the valley besprinkled with
+their first dew have begun to bloom for me; and for the first time
+May-drinks made from herbs by young housewives taste delicious."
+
+Trirodov smiled sadly and said:
+
+"I feel the heavy burden of life. But what's to be done? I don't know
+whether life can be made more easy and tranquil."
+
+"Why desire ease and tranquillity in life?" asked Elisaveta. "I want
+fire and passion, even if I perish. Let me become consumed in the fire
+of rapture and revolt."
+
+"Yes," said Trirodov, "it is necessary to discover all the
+possibilities and forces within oneself, and then a new life may be
+created. I wonder if life is necessary?"
+
+"And what is necessary?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+"I don't know," answered Trirodov sadly.
+
+"What do you desire?" she asked again.
+
+"Perhaps I desire nothing," said Trirodov. "There are moments when I
+seem to expect nothing from life; I do what I do unwillingly, as if it
+were a disagreeable action."
+
+"How do you live then?" asked Elisaveta in astonishment.
+
+He replied:
+
+"I live in a strange and unreal world. I live--but life goes past me,
+always past me. Woman's love, the fire of youth, the stirring of young
+hopes, remain for ever within the forbidden boundaries of unrealized
+possibilities--who knows?--perhaps unrealizable."
+
+The sad, flaming moments of silence were marked by the heavy beats of
+Elisaveta's heart. She felt intensely vexed by these sad words of
+weakness and of dejection, and she did not believe them. But Trirodov
+went on speaking, and his beautiful but hopelessly sad words sounded
+like a taunt to her:
+
+"There is so much labour and so little consolation. Life passes by
+like a dream--a senseless, tormenting dream."
+
+"If only a radiant dream! If only a tempestuous dream!" exclaimed
+Elisaveta.
+
+Trirodov smiled and said:
+
+"The time of awakening is drawing nearer. Old age comes with its
+depression; and the empty, meaningless life wanders on towards unknown
+borders. You ask yourself, and it seems hopeless to find a worthy
+answer: 'Why do I live in this strange and chance form? Why have I
+chosen my present lot? Why have I done this?'"
+
+"Well, who is at fault here?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+Trirodov replied:
+
+"The conscience, ripened to universal fullness, says that every fault
+is my fault."
+
+"And that every action is my action," added Elisaveta.
+
+"An action is so impossible!" said Trirodov. "A miracle is impossible.
+I wish to break loose from the claims of this dull existence."
+
+"You speak of love," said Elisaveta, "as of a thing unrealized. But
+you had a wife."
+
+"Yes," said Trirodov sadly. "The short moments passed by rapidly. Was
+there love? I cannot say. There was passion, a smouldering--and
+death."
+
+"Life will again bring its delights to you," said Elisaveta
+confidently.
+
+And Trirodov answered:
+
+"Yes, it will be a different life, but what's that to me? If one could
+only be quite different, and simple--say a small child, a boy with
+bare feet, with a fishing-rod in his hands, his mouth yawning
+good-naturedly. Only children really live. I envy them frightfully. I
+envy frightfully the simple folk, the altogether simple folk, remote
+from these cheerless comprehensions of the intellect. Children
+live--only children. Ripeness already marks the beginning of death."
+
+"To love--and to die?" asked Elisaveta with a smile.
+
+She listened to the sound of these beautiful, sad words and repeated
+them quietly:
+
+"To love--and to die!"
+
+And as she listened again, she heard him say:
+
+"She loved--and she died."
+
+"What was the name of your first wife?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+She was amazed at herself for uttering the word "first," as there had
+been only one; and her face became suffused slowly with pink.
+
+Trirodov fell into thought; he appeared not to have heard her
+question, and was silent. Elisaveta did not repeat it. He suddenly
+smiled and said:
+
+"You and I feel ourselves to be living people here, and what can there
+be for us more certain than our life, our sensation of life? And yet
+it is possible that you and I are not living people at all, but only
+characters in a novel, and that the author of this novel is not at all
+concerned with its external verisimilitude. His capricious imagination
+had taken this dark earth for its material, and out of this dark,
+sinful earth he grew these strange black maples and these mighty black
+poplars and these twittering birds in the bushes and us."
+
+Elisaveta looked at him in astonishment and said with a smile:
+
+"I hope that the novel will be interesting and beautiful. Let it even
+end in death! But tell me, why do you write so little?"
+
+With unexpected passion, almost with exasperation, Trirodov replied:
+
+"Why should I write volumes of tales on how they fell in love and why
+they fell out of love, and all that? I write only that which comes
+from myself, that which has not yet been said. So much has already
+been said; it is far better to add a simple word of one's own than
+write volumes of superfluities."
+
+"Eternal themes are always one and the same," said Elisaveta. "Do they
+not constitute the content of great art?"
+
+"We never originate," said Trirodov. "We always appear in the world
+with a ready inheritance. We are the eternal successors. That is why
+we are not free. We see the world with others' eyes, the eyes of the
+dead. But I live only when I make everything my own."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And while these two spent their hours in conversing, Piotr usually
+made his way somewhere to the top of the house. He sometimes descended
+with his eyes red--red from tears or from the vigorous, high wind. His
+days dragged on miserably. His hate and jealousy of Trirodov now and
+again tormented him.
+
+Piotr sometimes made unpleasant, pitiful scenes before Elisaveta. He
+loved her and he hated her. He would have killed her--had he dared!
+And he had not the force to hate either Elisaveta or Trirodov to the
+bitter end.
+
+When he learned to know Trirodov better his hate lost something of its
+venom, his malice no longer irritated him like nettles. He looked with
+curiosity upon them and began to understand. The agony of his
+unconscious fury was replaced by a clear contemplation of the
+separating abyss; and this made him even more miserable.
+
+He decided to go away; he made the decision again and again, but
+always remained there--restless and yearning.
+
+As for Misha, he fell quite in love with Trirodov. He liked to remain
+with Elisaveta in order to talk about him.
+
+One evening Piotr came to Trirodov's house. He did not like to go
+there, for such antagonistic feelings wrestled in his soul! But common
+courtesy made the visit necessary.
+
+Again a discussion was started. In Piotr's opinion revolution was to
+the detriment of religion and culture. It was a tedious, unnecessary
+discussion. But Piotr could never resist uttering malicious words
+against the extremes of the "liberating movement."
+
+He felt awkward during the whole visit. He wished to handle something
+all the time and to be doing something. His restlessness tormented him
+in a strange way. Now he picked up one trifle from the table, now
+another, and put it down again. He took a prism in his hand. Trirodov
+trembled. He said something quietly and inaudibly. Piotr did not hear,
+but kept on looking in astonishment at the heavy prism in his hand;
+and as he turned it over and over he wondered at the reason of its
+weight. Trirodov trembled nervously. Piotr, in turning the prism
+rather awkwardly, struck it against the edge of the table. Trirodov
+shivered, shouted something incoherently, and, snatching the prism
+from Piotr's hands, said in an agitated voice:
+
+"Please put it down!"
+
+Piotr looked in astonishment at Trirodov, who was visibly confused.
+Piotr smiled unwillingly and asked:
+
+"Why, what is it?"
+
+"How should I tell you!" said Trirodov. "It is connected with ...
+Please forgive my sharpness. I thought you were going to drop it, and
+I wanted to.... It seems like a whim.... Of course it is really
+nothing ... but it is connected with an old episode in my life.
+Really, I don't know why I keep these ugly things on my table. But
+there are such intimate memories ... you understand.... Still, I'm so
+very sorry...."
+
+Piotr listened in perplexity. Suddenly he realized that it was rude to
+be silent for so long, and he made haste to say, not without
+embarrassment:
+
+"Please don't think about it. I quite well understand that there are
+things which.... But if you find it difficult or unpleasant to speak
+about it, then please...."
+
+Trirodov said a few more incoherent, confused words of apology to
+Piotr and thanked him. He breathed a sigh of relief when Stchemilov
+was announced.
+
+Piotr let loose his irritation at the new-comer with the ironic
+question:
+
+"Again free? For how long?"
+
+"I've skipped," answered Stchemilov calmly. "I'm leading an illegal
+life now."
+
+Piotr soon left.
+
+"To-day?" asked Stchemilov. "Here?"
+
+"Yes, we'll meet here to-day," replied Trirodov.
+
+"He hasn't left yet, and there are several matters and reports to
+attend to. It is necessary to arrange a meeting and to let various
+people know about it."
+
+"You have a convenient house here," said Stchemilov. "May I help
+myself?" he added, pointing at the box of cigars as he lounged back
+comfortably on the large sofa. "Most convenient," he repeated, as he
+lit his cigar. "They don't suspect us as yet, but if they should pay
+you a visit, there are so many exits and entrances here and
+out-of-the-way nooks.... Very convenient indeed. It is easy to hide
+things here--no comparison at all with my little trunk."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+The town was in a state of unrest: strikes were in the air, patriotic
+demonstrations were held. Its outer environs were visited by
+suspicious-looking characters; these distributed proclamations, mostly
+of an illiterate nature, in the villages. The proclamations threatened
+incendiarism if the peasants did not revolt. The incendiaries were to
+be "students," discharged from the factories on account of the
+strikes. The peasants believed the announcement. In some of the
+villages watchmen were engaged to catch the incendiaries at night.
+
+Ostrov began to play a noticeable role in town. He quickly squandered
+the money he received from Trirodov in drink and in other ways. He did
+not dare as yet to visit Trirodov again, but appeared to be in an
+expectant mood, and remained in town.
+
+It was here that Ostrov met his old friend Yakov Poltinin.
+
+Yakov Poltinin and two other members of the Black Hundred were sent
+from the capital at the request of Kerbakh and Zherbenev. The apparent
+purpose of this request was to establish a connexion between the local
+section of the All-Russian Black Hundred union--organized by Kerbakh,
+Zherbenev, and Konopatskaya, the wife of a general--with the central
+office of the organization. The actual purpose, however, as understood
+by all these respected folk, though they ventured to do little more
+than hint of it to one another, was to establish--with the help of the
+trio--a patriotic movement; in short, to strike a blow at the
+_intelligentsia_.
+
+Yakov Poltinin took Ostrov with him to visit the families of the
+patriots. A company of suspicious characters was in town--ready to do
+anything they were bidden. Yakov Poltinin led Ostrov also among this
+company.
+
+In the course of the company's friendly carouse at Poltinin's
+apartments in a dirty little house on the outskirts of the town, the
+idea of stealing the sacred ikon came into some one's mind. Poltinin
+said:
+
+"There's no end of precious stones on it of all sorts--diamonds,
+sapphires, and rubies. It took hundred of years to collect them.
+Little Mother Russia, orthodox Russia, has done her best."
+
+The thief Potseluytchikov affirmed:
+
+"It's certainly worth not less than two million."
+
+"You're putting it on rather thick," declared Ostrov incredulously.
+
+"Not at all," said Poltinin with a knowing look. "Two million is
+putting it mildly--it's more likely worth three."
+
+"And how are you going to dispose of it?" asked Ostrov.
+
+"I know how," said Poltinin confidently. "Of course you'd get a trifle
+compared with its real value--still we ought to get a half-million out
+of it."
+
+This was followed by blasphemous jests.
+
+Yakov Poltinin had for some time entertained the secret ambition of
+accomplishing something on a grand scale, something that would cause a
+lot of talk. It is true the murder of the Chief of Police created a
+deep impression. Still, it was hardly as important as the affair he
+had in mind. To steal and destroy the miracle-working ikon--that would
+be something to crow about! Poltinin said:
+
+"The Socialist Revolutionaries are certain to be blamed for it.
+Expropriation for party purposes--why not? As for us, no one will even
+suspect us."
+
+"The priests will never get over it," declared Molin, a former
+instructor, who was a drunkard and a thief--a jail-bird deprived of
+his legal rights.
+
+The friends began preparations for the projected theft. Now one of
+them, now another, developed the habit of frequenting the monastery.
+Ostrov especially received an eager welcome there. He pleased, by his
+external piety, the older monks who were in authority. There were a
+number of convivial monks who were especially fond of Ostrov. The
+monks advised him to join the local union of the Black Hundred. They
+said that it would be pleasing to God. They engaged him in religious
+and patriotic conversations and invited him to drink with them.
+
+Poltinin and Potseluychikov were also well received in the monastery.
+
+Strange threads are woven into the relations of people at times.
+Although Piotr Matov met Ostrov under unfriendly circumstances, Ostrov
+managed to scrape up an acquaintance even with him. It reached a point
+when Piotr even agreed to make a journey with Ostrov to the monastery.
+
+Glafira Pavlovna Konopatskaya, the rich widow of a general, was an
+energetic, power-loving woman, and enjoyed considerable influence in
+town. She was a most generous contributor to the various enterprises
+of the Black Hundred. Her house served as the meeting-place of the
+local branch of this All-Russian organization as well as of another
+secret society, which bore the elaborate name of "The Union of Active
+Combat with Revolution and Anarchy."
+
+The initiation ceremony of the union was very elaborately exulting.
+Especial efforts were made to attract working men. Each new member was
+presented with a badge, a Browning revolver, and a little money.
+
+The local patriots used to say about Glafira Pavlovna's house:
+
+"Here dwells the Russian spirit, here it smells of Russia!"[21]
+
+After the meeting it usually smelt of vodka and shag.
+
+Some of the working men joined these unions for material reasons,
+others from ignorance. The Black Hundred had but a few members from
+among the working class by conviction. The Union of Active Combat
+attracted people who served now one side, now the other, people like
+Yakov Poltinin, and even two or three confirmed revolutionaries. They
+accepted the Brownings and handed them over to members of
+revolutionary organizations. Members of the union did not find this
+out until quite late.
+
+Kerbakh and Zherbenev were the most frequent guests at Glafira
+Pavlovna's cosy, hospitable house. Evil tongues made slander of this,
+and associated her name now with Kerbakh, now with Zherbenev. But this
+was a calumny. Her heart had only a place for a young official who
+served as a private secretary to the Governor.
+
+Once after dinner at Konopatskaya's, Kerbakh and Zherbenev were
+telling Glafira Pavlovna about Ostrov. Kerbakh was the first to broach
+the subject:
+
+"I have in view a man whom I should like to call to your attention."
+
+"I too know a lively chap," said Zherbenev.
+
+Kerbakh, annoyed at the interruption, looked none too amiably at
+Zherbenev, and went on:
+
+"He didn't at all please me at first."
+
+"My friend also did not appeal to me at the beginning," said
+Zherbenev, who would not stay repressed.
+
+"To look at him you might think that he's a cut-throat," said Kerbakh.
+
+"That describes my man too," announced Zherbenev, as if he were
+announcing something gay and pleasant.
+
+"But at heart," went on Kerbakh, "he is an ingenuous infant and an
+enthusiastic patriot."
+
+"Well, well, and mine's like that too," chimed in Zherbenev.
+
+Glafira Pavlovna smiled graciously at both of them.
+
+"Whom are you talking about?" asked Kerbakh at last, rather annoyed at
+his companion.
+
+Zherbenev replied:
+
+"There is a chap here--what's his name? You remember we met him at the
+pier some time ago. He was rather interested in Trirodov."
+
+"You mean Ostrov?" ventured Kerbakh.
+
+"That's the fellow," said Zherbenev.
+
+"I also meant him," said Kerbakh.
+
+"Excellent!" exclaimed Zherbenev. "We seem to agree about him. So you
+see, Glafira Pavlovna, we ought to invite him into our union. He would
+be a most useful man. Once mention Jews to him and he begins to howl
+like a dog on a chain."
+
+"Of course we ought to have him," decided Glafira Pavlovna. "It is
+just such people that we want."
+
+That was how Ostrov came to be admitted into the union. He worked very
+zealously on its behalf.
+
+One of the chief functions of the Black Hundred was to lodge
+information against certain people. They informed the Governor and the
+head of the District Schools that Trirodov's wards had been at the
+funeral of the working men killed in the woods.
+
+The colony established by Trirodov had for some time been a source of
+great annoyance and scandal to the townsfolk. Complaints had been
+lodged with the authorities even earlier. Ostrov communicated
+considerable information, mostly invented by himself or by the alert
+townsmen. The head of the schools sent an order to the Headmaster of
+the National Schools to make an investigation. The Governor took other
+measures. Clouds were beginning to gather over Trirodov's colony.
+
+The union also made no little effort to arouse the hooligan part of
+the population against the Jews and against the _intelligentsia_.
+
+The town was in a state of ferment. The Cossacks often paraded the
+streets. The working men eyed them with hostility. Some one spread
+rumours about town that preparations were being made for an armed
+revolt. Trifling causes led to tragic collisions.
+
+One evening the Summer Garden was full of people; they were strolling
+or else listening to the music and to the songs in the open-air
+theatre. The evening was quiet and the sky still red. Just outside the
+rail-fence the dust was flying before the wind, and settled now on the
+pointed leaves of the acacia-trees, now on the small, light purple
+flowers near the road.
+
+There was a rose-red glow in the sky; the road stretched towards it;
+and the grey of the dust mingling with the red glow produced a play of
+colour very agreeable to the eye.
+
+A red giant genie broke his vessel with its Solomon's seal, freed
+himself, and stood on the edge of the town; he laughed soundlessly yet
+repugnantly. His breath was like the smoky breath of a forest fire.
+But he made sentimental grimaces, tore white petals from gigantic
+marguerites, and whispered in a hoarse voice which stirred the blood
+of the young:
+
+"He loves me--he loves me not; he will cut me up--he will hang me."
+
+But the people did not see him. They were looking at the sky and
+saying:
+
+"How superb! I love nature! And do you love nature?"
+
+Others looked on indifferently and thought that it did not matter. The
+lovers of nature bragged before these because they admired the
+splendid sunset and were able to enjoy nature. They said to the
+others:
+
+"You, old chap, are a dry stick. I suppose you'd rather go to a stuffy
+room and play cards."
+
+The promenaders strolled on, crowding and jostling each other; they
+were flaunting their gaiety. There was a cheerful hum, and young
+girls, amused by schoolboys and officials, giggled. Grey devilkins
+mingled with the crowd, and when the little jokers-pokers hopped on
+the girls' shoulders and poked their shaggy and ticklish little paws
+into the corsage under the chemise the girls raised piercing screams.
+They were dressed prettily and lightly, in holiday order. Their high
+breasts outlined under their coloured textures taunted the youths.
+
+An officer of the Cossacks was among those on the promenade. He had
+had a drop too much, which made his face red. He was in a gay mood,
+and he began to boast:
+
+"We'll cut their heads off, yes, of all of them!"
+
+The petty tradesmen treated him to drinks, embraced him, and said to
+him:
+
+"Cut their throats. Do us the favour. Make a good job of it. It will
+serve these anathemas right too! As for the women and the girls, give
+them a hiding--the hotter the better."
+
+There was a continuous change of amusements, each noisier and duller
+than the one before. Now in the theatre, now in the open, they played
+a stupid but obscene vaudeville piece, and vicious topical songs were
+sung (a thunder of applause); an animated chansonnette-singer
+screeched and pulled about with her naked, excessively whitened
+shoulders, and winked with her exaggeratedly painted eyes; a woman
+acrobat, raising her legs, attired in pink tights, above her head, was
+dancing on her hands.
+
+Everything was as if the town were not under guard and as if the
+Cossacks were not riding about in the streets.
+
+Suddenly some one in the depth of the garden raised a cry.
+
+A frightful confusion spread among the crowd. Many darted impetuously
+towards the exit. Others jumped over the fence. Suddenly the crowd,
+with frenzied cries, came sweeping in retreat from the exits back into
+the depth of the garden.
+
+Cossacks darted in from somewhere and, crying savagely, made their way
+along the garden paths. Their sudden appearance gave the impression
+that they were waiting somewhere near by for the command. Their knouts
+began to work rapidly. The thin textures upon the girls' shoulders
+were rent apart and delicate bodies were unbared, and beautiful
+blue-and-red spots showed themselves on the white-pink skin like
+quickly ripened flowers. Drops of blood, large like bilberries,
+splattered into the air, which had already quenched its thirst on the
+evening coolness, on the odour of the foliage and the aroma of
+artificial scents. Delicately shrill, loud sobs were the accompaniment
+to the dull, flat lashings of whips across the bodies.
+
+They threw themselves this way and that way, they ran where they
+could. Several were caught--ragged young men and girls with short
+hair. Two or three of the girls were caught and beaten in error: they
+were from the most peaceful, even respected, families in town. These
+were afterwards permitted to go free.
+
+The hooligans were making merry in a dirty, ill-smelling beerhouse.
+They were celebrating something or another, were jingling their money,
+discussing future earnings, and laughing uproariously. One table was
+especially absorbed in its noisy gaiety. There sat the celebrated
+town-rowdy Nil Krasavtsev with three of his friends. They drank, and
+sang hooligan songs, then paid their bill and went out. One could hear
+their savage outbursts:
+
+"The Jew dogs are rebels, they are against the Tsar."
+
+"The Jews want to get hold of everything for themselves."
+
+"It wouldn't be a bad thing to cut up a Jewess!"
+
+"The Jews want to take over the whole earth."
+
+It had grown dark. The hooligans went into the main street, the
+Sretenka. It was very quiet, and only a few passers-by were to be met
+with; people stood here and there at their gates and talked. A Jewish
+widow sat at the gate of a house and chatted with her neighbour, a
+Jewish tailor. Her children, a whole throng of them, one smaller than
+the other, played about here, deeply wrapt in their own affairs.
+
+Nil walked up to the Jewess and shouted:
+
+"You dog of a Jew, pray to God for the orthodox Tsar!"
+
+"What do you want of me?" cried the Jewess. "I'm not touching you; you
+had better go away!"
+
+"What's that you say?" shouted the hooligan.
+
+A broad knife was lifted in the darkness and, gleaming, came down in a
+swoop, piercing the old woman. She gave a quick, shrill cry--and fell
+back dead. The Jew, terrified, ran away, filling the night air with
+his piteous wails. The children began to whimper. The hooligans
+marched off, laughing uproariously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+Midday. It was quiet, innocent, and fresh in the depth of the wood, at
+the edge of the hollow--and the outer heat penetrated hither only by
+an infinite coiling as of a scaly serpent impotent at last and
+deprived of its poison.
+
+Trirodov had found this place for himself and Elisaveta. More than
+once they came here together--to read, to talk, and to sit a while at
+the moss-covered stone, out of which, like a strange corporeal ghost,
+grew up all awry a slender quaking ash. Elisaveta, dressed in her
+simple short skirt, her long sunburnt arms and part of her legs
+showing, seemed so tall, so erect, and so graceful at this
+moss-covered stone.
+
+Elisaveta was reading aloud--poems! How golden her voice sounded with
+its seductive, sun-like sonorousness! Trirodov listened with a
+slightly ironical smile to these familiar, infinitely deep and lovely
+words, so seemingly meaningless in life. When she finished Trirodov
+said:
+
+"A man's whole life is barely enough to think out a single idea
+properly."
+
+"You mean to say that each should choose for himself but a single
+idea."
+
+"Yes. If people could but grasp this fact human knowledge would take
+an unprecedented step forward. But we are afraid to venture."
+
+And coarse life already hovered near them behind their backs, and was
+about to intrude upon them. Elisaveta gave a sudden faint outcry at
+the unexpectedness of an unseemly apparition. A dirty, rough-looking
+man, all in tatters, was almost upon them; he had approached them upon
+the mossy ground as softly as a wood fairy. He stretched out a dirty,
+horny hand, and asked, not at all in a begging voice:
+
+"Give a hungry man something to buy bread with."
+
+Trirodov frowned in annoyance, and without looking at the beggar took
+a silver coin out of the pocket of his waistcoat. He always kept a
+trifle about him to provide for unexpected meetings. The ragged one
+smiled, turned the coin, threw it upward, caught it, and hid it
+adroitly in his pocket.
+
+"I thank your illustrious Honour most humbly," he said. "May God give
+you good health, a rich wife, and assured success. Only I want to say
+something to you."
+
+He grew silent, and assumed a grave, important air. Trirodov frowned
+even more intensely than before, and asked stiffly:
+
+"What is it you wish to tell me?"
+
+The ragged one said with frank derision in his voice:
+
+"It's this. You were reading a book, my good people, but not the right
+one."
+
+He laughed a pathetic, insolent laugh. It was as if a timorous dog
+suddenly began to whine hoarsely, insolently, and cautiously.
+
+Trirodov asked again in astonishment:
+
+"Not the right one, why not?"
+
+The ragged one began to speak with awkward gestures, and he gave the
+impression that he was able to speak well and eloquently, and that he
+merely assumed his stupid, unpolished manner of speaking.
+
+"I had been listening to you a long time. I was behind the bush there.
+I was asleep, I must confess--then you came--chattered away, and waked
+me. The young lady read well. Clearly and sympathetically. One could
+see at once that it was from the heart. Only I don't like the
+contents, and all that's in this book."
+
+"Why don't you like it?" asked Elisaveta quietly.
+
+"In my opinion," said the ragged one, "it isn't your style. It doesn't
+fit you somehow."
+
+"What sort of book ought we to read?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+She gave a light, forced smile. The ragged one sat down on a near-by
+stump, and answered in no undue haste:
+
+"I am not thinking of you alone, honourable folk, but of all those who
+parade in fancy gaiters and in velvet dresses, and look scornfully at
+our brothers."
+
+"What book?" again asked Elisaveta.
+
+"It's the gospels that you ought to read," he replied, as he looked
+attentively and austerely at Elisaveta, his glance taking in her
+entire figure from her flushed face down to her feet.
+
+"Why the gospels?" asked Trirodov, who suddenly grew morose. He
+appeared to be pondering over something, and unable to decide; his
+indecision seemed to torment him.
+
+The ragged one replied slowly:
+
+"I will tell you why; you'll find the true facts there. We will take
+it easy in paradise, while the devils will be pulling the veins out of
+you in hell. And we shall look on coolly, and applaud gaily with our
+hands. It ought to prove entertaining."
+
+He burst out into loud, hoarse laughter--but it seemed more assumed
+than joyous, and rather abject and hideous. Elisaveta shivered.
+
+"What a wicked person you are! Why do you think that?" said Elisaveta
+reproachfully.
+
+The ragged one glanced at her crossly, and looked fixedly into her
+deep blue eyes; then he said with a broad smile:
+
+"Why am I wicked? And are you two good? Wicked or not, the thing is to
+be just. But I may tell you, sir, that I like you," he said as he
+turned suddenly to Trirodov.
+
+"Thank you for your good opinion," said Trirodov with a slightly
+ironical smile, "but why should you like me?"
+
+He looked attentively at the ragged one. Then suddenly he felt
+depressed and apprehensive, and he lowered his eyes. The other slowly
+lit his foul-smelling pipe, stretched himself, and began after a brief
+silence:
+
+"Other gentlemen's mugs are mostly gay, as if they had gorged
+themselves on a pancake with cream, or had successfully forged their
+uncle's will. But you, sir, seem to have the same lean mug always. I
+have been observing you some time now. It's evident that you have
+something on your soul. At least a capital crime."
+
+Trirodov was silent. He lifted himself on his elbow and looked
+straight into the man's eyes with such a fixed, strange expression in
+his unblinking, commanding, wilful eyes.
+
+The ragged one grew silent, as if he had been congealed for a moment.
+Then, as if frightened, he suddenly shook himself. He shrank and
+stooped, and as he took his cap off he revealed an unkempt, tousled
+head of hair; he mumbled something, slipped away among the bushes, and
+disappeared quietly--like a fairy of the wood.
+
+Trirodov looked gloomily after him--and was silent. Elisaveta thought
+that he deliberately avoided looking at her. She was intensely
+embarrassed, but made an effort to control herself. She laughed, and
+said with assumed gaiety:
+
+"What a strange creature!"
+
+Trirodov turned upon her his melancholy glances and said quietly:
+
+"He talks like one who knows. He talks like one who sees. But no one
+can know what happened."
+
+Oh, if one could only know! If one could only change that which once
+had happened!
+
+Trirodov recalled again during these days the dark history of Piotr
+Matov's father. Trirodov had carelessly entangled himself in this
+affair, and now it compelled him to have dealings with the blackmailer
+Ostrov.
+
+Piotr's father, Dmitry Matov, had fallen into a trap which he had set
+for others. He had joined a secret revolutionary circle. There they
+soon discovered his relations with the police, and they decided to
+detect him and kill him.
+
+One of the members of the circle, the young physician Lunitsin, took
+the role of betrayer upon himself. He promised to obtain for Dmitry
+Matov important documents involving many of the members. They made a
+bargain at a moderate figure. The meeting at which the documents were
+to be exchanged for the money was designated to take place in a small
+borough close to the town in which Trirodov then lived.
+
+At the appointed hour Dmitry Matov got out of his train at a little
+station. It was late in the evening. Matov wore blue spectacles and a
+false beard, as was agreed upon. Lunitsin waited for him a few yards
+from the station, and led him to a very solitary spot where was
+situated the house hired for the purpose.
+
+A supper had been prepared there. Matov ate heartily and drank much
+wine. His companion began to invent stories about certain suspicious
+movements he had heard of lately. Little by little Matov grew candid,
+and began to boast of his connexions with the police, and of the great
+number of people he had skilfully betrayed.
+
+The door leading to the next room was hung with draperies. Three
+people were hiding in that room--Trirodov, Ostrov, and the young
+working man Krovlin. They were listening. Krovlin was intensely
+excited. He kept on repeating in indignant whispers:
+
+"Oh, the scoundrel! The wretch!"
+
+Ostrov and Trirodov managed to restrain him with great difficulty.
+
+"Be silent. Let him babble out everything," they said to him.
+
+At last Matov's impudent boastfulness was too much for Krovlin, who
+jumped out from his hiding-place, and shouted:
+
+"So that's how it is! You've betrayed our men to the police! And you
+have the face to confess it!"
+
+Dmitry Matov grew green with fear. He shouted to his companion:
+
+"Kill him! He has been listening to us! Shoot quick! He mustn't live.
+He will give us both up!"
+
+At this moment two other men appeared from the same place. Lunitsin
+aimed his revolver straight at Matov's forehead, and asked:
+
+"Who ought to be killed, traitor?"
+
+Matov then understood that he had been caught in a trap. But he still
+made efforts to wriggle out of it, and called all his skill and his
+insolence to his assistance. They tried him for treachery. At first he
+defended himself. He said that he had deceived the police, and that he
+had entered into relations with them merely to get important
+information for his comrades. But his protestations soon grew weaker.
+Then he began to beg for mercy. He spoke of his wife and of his
+children.
+
+Matov's entreaties failed to impress any one. His judges were adamant.
+His fate was decided. The sentence of hanging was passed unanimously.
+
+Matov was bound. The noose was already thrown about his neck. Then
+Trirodov intervened:
+
+"What are you going to do with him? It will be difficult to take him
+away, and it is dangerous to leave him here."
+
+"Who will come here?" said Lunitsin. "At best only by chance. Let him
+hang here until he's found."
+
+"Let us bury him here in the garden, like a dog," suggested Krovlin.
+
+"Give him to me," said Trirodov. "I will dispose his body in such a
+way that no one will find it."
+
+The others assented eagerly. Ostrov said with a scornful smile:
+
+"Will you try your chemistry on him, Giorgiy Sergeyevitch? Well, it's
+all the same to us. A bad man ought to be punished--make even a
+skeleton of him for your use if you like."
+
+Trirodov drew a flagon containing a colourless liquid from his pocket.
+
+"Now this will put him to sleep," he said.
+
+He injected with a small syringe several drops of the liquid under
+Dmitry Matov's skin. Matov gave a feeble cry and fell heavily to the
+floor. In a few moments the body lay before them, blue and apparently
+lifeless. Lunitsin examined Matov and said:
+
+"He's done for."
+
+The men left one by one. Trirodov alone remained with Matov's body.
+Trirodov took off Matov's clothes and burned them in the stove. He
+made several more injections of the same colourless liquid.
+
+The night passed slowly. Trirodov lay on the sofa without taking his
+clothes off. He slept badly, tormented by oppressive dreams. He awoke
+several times.
+
+Dmitry Matov lay in the next room on the floor. The liquid, injected
+into his blood, acted strangely. The body contracted in proper
+proportion, and wasted very quickly. Within several hours it lost more
+than half of its weight, and assumed very small dimensions; it became
+very soft and pliant. But all its proportions were faithfully
+preserved.
+
+Trirodov made up the body into a large parcel, covered it over with
+plaid, and bound it with straps. It resembled a pillow wrapped up in
+plaid. Trirodov left by the morning train for home, carrying with him
+Dmitry Matov's body.
+
+At home Trirodov put the body into a vessel containing a greenish
+liquid compounded by himself. Matov's body shrunk in it even more. It
+had become barely more than seven inches long. But as before all its
+proportions remained inviolate.
+
+Then Trirodov prepared a special plastic substance, in which he
+wrapped Matov's body. He pressed it compactly into the form of a cube,
+and placed it on his writing-table. And thus a thing that once had
+been a man remained there a thing among other things.
+
+Nevertheless Trirodov was right when he told Ostrov that Matov had not
+been killed. Yes, notwithstanding his strange form and his distressing
+immobility, Dmitry Matov was not dead. The potentiality of life slept
+dormant in that solid object. Trirodov thought more than once as to
+whether the time had not come to rehabilitate Matov and return him to
+the world of the living.
+
+He had not decided upon this before. But he was confident that he
+would succeed in doing this without hindrance. The process of
+rehabilitation required a tranquil and isolated place.
+
+In a little more than a year at the beginning of the summer Trirodov
+decided to begin the process of rehabilitation. He prepared a large
+vat over six feet in length. He filled it with a colourless liquid,
+and lowered into it the cube containing Matov's body.
+
+The slow process of rehabilitation began. Unperceived by the eye, the
+cube began to thaw and to swell. It needed a half-year before it would
+thaw out sufficiently to permit the body to peer through.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+Sonya Svetilovitch was badly shaken by the hard, cruel events of that
+night in the woods. She fell ill, and remained two weeks in an
+unconscious state. It was feared that she would die. But she was a
+strong girl and conquered her illness.
+
+Scenes from that nightmarish occasion passed before the poor girl in
+her heavy delirium. Grey, ferocious demons, with dim, tinny eyes, came
+to her, taunted her, and acted without reason. There was no place in
+which to hide from the hideous frenzy.
+
+Deep oppression reigned in the Svetilovitch house. Sonya's mother
+wept, and bewailed her lot. Sonya's father spoke of the matter warmly
+and eloquently, with gesticulations, to his friends in his study--and
+inevitably got into a state of indignation. Sonya's little brothers
+discussed plans of vengeance. Fraeulein Berta, the governess of Sonya's
+younger sister, made censorious remarks about barbarous Russia.
+
+All the acquaintances of the Svetilovitches were also indignant. But
+their indignation assumed only platonic forms. Perhaps it was
+impossible for it to have been otherwise. To be sure, all the more or
+less independent people in town paid the Svetilovitches visits of
+sympathy. Even the liberal Inspector of Taxes came. He was a patient
+of Doctor Svetilovitch's, and came during the reception hour to
+express his interest; incidentally he asked advice about his physical
+indispositions and paid no fee--in view of its being a visit of
+sympathy.
+
+Sonya's father, Doctor Sergey Lvovitch Svetilovitch, was a member of
+the Constitutional Democratic Party; among his own he was regarded as
+belonging to the extreme left wing. Like his friend Rameyev, who was a
+Cadet of more moderate views, he was a member of the local committee.
+
+Doctor Svetilovitch thought he ought to protest against the improper
+actions of the police. He lodged complaints with the Governor and the
+District Attorney, and wrote circumstantial petitions to both--his
+chief concern being that no offending expression of any sort should
+enter into them.
+
+Doctor Svetilovitch was an extremely correct and loyal man. Other
+people around him, if placed in unusual circumstances, might lose
+their presence of mind and forget their principles; others around him,
+friends or enemies, might act incorrectly and illegally; but Doctor
+Svetilovitch always remained faithful to himself. No circumstance, no
+earthly or heavenly power, could swerve him from the path which he
+acknowledged as the only true one, in so far as it conformed to
+Constitutional Democratic principles. The problem of expedience of
+conduct concerned Doctor Svetilovitch but little. The important thing
+was to be correct in principle. He always placed, however, the
+responsibility for the result this procedure achieved upon the
+shoulders of those who wished to follow along other lines. That was
+why Doctor Svetilovitch enjoyed extraordinary respect in his own
+party. Great weight was attached to his opinions, and in the matter of
+tactics his declarations were indisputable.
+
+Several days after Doctor Svetilovitch presented his petition he had a
+call from an inspector of the police, who handed him, with a request
+for a receipt, a grey, rough paper impressed at the upper left-hand
+corner with the stamp of the Skorodozh governing authorities, together
+with a packet from the District Attorney. This last contained a white
+solid-looking page of foolscap folded in four, handsomely engraved
+with the District Attorney's seal. Both the grey rough paper and the
+solid-looking page of foolscap contained approximately in the same
+words the answers to the complaints of Doctor Svetilovitch. These
+informed Doctor Svetilovitch that a very careful investigation had
+been made in connexion with his complaints; in conclusion, it was
+affirmed that Doctor Svetilovitch's evidence as to the illegal actions
+of the police, and as to the subjection of the girls caught in the
+woods to blows, was not borne out by facts.
+
+At last Sonya began to improve. The members of the family and
+acquaintances tried not to recall the sad incident of that night
+before Sonya. Only indifferent and pleasant matters were mentioned in
+the poor girl's presence in order to divert her. A number of visitors
+were invited one evening for this purpose. Some were asked by letter,
+others by Doctor Svetilovitch in person. He visited the Rameyevs and
+Trirodov in his carriage, which was harnessed to a pair of stout
+ponies.
+
+In inviting Trirodov, Doctor Svetilovitch asked him to read something
+from his own work at the gathering, something that would not make
+Sonya unpleasantly reminiscent. Trirodov agreed to this quite
+heartily, although he usually avoided reading his own work anywhere.
+
+As Trirodov was preparing to leave his house that evening and was
+putting on a coloured tie, Kirsha said to him with his usual gravity:
+
+"I should not go to the Svetilovitches' to-night if I were you. It
+would be much wiser to remain at home."
+
+Trirodov, not all astonished by this unexpected advice, smiled and
+asked:
+
+"Why shouldn't I go?"
+
+Kirsha held his father's hand and said sadly:
+
+"There have been many detectives of late poking their noses about
+here. What can they want here? It's almost certain they will make a
+search of Svetilovitch's house to-night--I have a presentiment."
+
+"That's nothing," said Trirodov with a smile, "we have got used to
+everything. But, dear Kirsha, you are very inquisitive--you look in
+everywhere, even where you shouldn't."
+
+"My eyes see, and my ears hear," replied Kirsha, "is that my fault?"
+
+In the pleasant, well-appointed drawing-room of the Svetilovitches, in
+the lifeless light of three electric globes with lustrous bronze
+fittings, the green-blue upholsterings of the Empire furniture seemed
+illusively beautiful. The dark curves of the grand piano were
+gleaming. Albums were lying on a little table under the leaves of a
+palm. The portrait of an old man with a long, white moustache smiled
+down youthfully and cheerfully from its place on the wall above the
+sofa. The visitors gathered in the midst of these attractive
+surroundings, as if there were nothing to mar them. They spoke a great
+deal, with much heat and eloquence.
+
+Most of the visitors were local Cadets. Among those present were three
+physicians, one engineer, two legal advocates, the editor of a local
+progressive newspaper, a justice of the peace, a notary, three
+gymnasia instructors, and a priest. Nearly all came accompanied by
+women and girls. There were also several students, college girls, and
+grownup schoolboys from the higher gymnasia classes.
+
+The young priest, Nikolai Matveyevitch Zakrasin, who sympathized with
+the Cadets, gave lessons in Trirodov's school. He was considered a
+great freethinker among his colleagues, the priests. The town clergy
+looked askance at him. And the Diocesan Bishop was not well disposed
+towards him.
+
+Father Zakrasin had completed a course in the ecclesiastical academy.
+He spoke rather well, wrote something, and collaborated not only in
+religious but also in worldly periodicals. He had wavy, dense, not
+over-long hair. His grey eyes smiled amiably and cheerfully. His
+priestly attire always appeared new and neat. His manners were
+restrained and gentle. He did not at all resemble the average Russian
+priest; Father Zakrasin seemed more like a Catholic prelate who had
+let his beard grow and had put on a golden pectoral cross. Father
+Zakrasin's house was bright, neat, and cheerful. The walls were
+decorated with engravings, scenes from sacred history. His study
+contained several cases of books. It was evident from their selection
+that Father Zakrasin's interests were very broad. In general he liked
+that which was certain, convincing, and rational.
+
+His wife, Susanna Kirillovna, a good-looking, plump, and calm woman,
+who was wholly convinced of the justice of the Cadets' cause, was now
+sitting quietly on the sofa in the Svetilovitch drawing-room, and
+expounding truths. Notwithstanding her Constitutional Democratic
+convictions, she was a real priest's spouse, a housewifely,
+loquacious, timorous creature.
+
+Priest Zakrasin's sister, Irina Matveyevna, or Irinushka as every one
+called her, was a parish-school girl who had been won over to the
+cause by the priest's wife; she was young, rosy, and slender, and
+greatly resembled her brother. She got excited so often and so
+intensely that she constantly had to be appeased by the elders, who
+regarded her youthful impetuosity with benevolent amusement.
+
+Rameyev was there with both his daughters, the Matov brothers, and
+Miss Harrison. Trirodov was there also.
+
+There was almost a spirit of gaiety. They talked on various
+subjects--on politics, on literature, on local matters, etc. Sonya's
+mother sat in the drawing-room and discussed women's rights and the
+works of Knut Hamsun. Sonya's mother liked this writer intensely, and
+loved to tell about her meeting with him abroad. There was an
+autographed portrait of Knut Hamsun upon her table and it was the
+object of much pride for the whole Svetilovitch family.
+
+At the tea-table in the small neighbouring room, which was called the
+"buffet," Sonya--surrounded by young people--was pouring out tea. In
+Doctor Svetilovitch's study they spoke of the recent unrest in near-by
+villages. There were incendiary fires on various estates and farms
+belonging to the landed gentry. There were several cases in which the
+bread granaries belonging to certain hoarders were broken into.
+
+Sonya's mother was asked to play something. She refused a long time,
+but finally, with evident pleasure, went to the grand piano, and
+played a selection from Grieg. Then the notary took his turn at the
+instrument. Irinushka, blushing furiously, sang with much expression
+the new popular song to his accompaniment:
+
+  _Once I loved a learned student,
+  I admit I wasn't prudent;
+  On the day I married him
+  The village feasted to the brim.
+
+  Vodka every one was drinking,
+  All were doing loud thinking--
+  How to make the masters toil,
+  And amongst us share their soil.
+
+  Suddenly there came a copper
+  Right into our hut a-flopper!
+  "I'll send you both to Sakhalin[22]
+  For raising this rebellious din."
+
+  "Well, my dear one, quick, get ready,
+  Mind that you walk 'long there steady,
+  For your charming words, my sweet,
+  A gaol is waiting you to greet."
+
+  Do you think I was agitated?
+  No, not me--I was most elated.
+  Then the muzhiks stepped right in
+  And chucked him out on the green._
+
+This song was an illustration appropriate to the discussions on
+village tendencies. It achieved a great success. Irinushka was
+profusely praised and thanked for it. Irinushka blushed, and regretted
+that she knew no other songs of the same kind.
+
+Then Trirodov read his story of a beautiful and exultant love. He read
+simply and calmly, not as actors read. He finished reading and in the
+cold polite praises he felt how remote he was from all these people.
+Once more, as it frequently had happened before, there stirred in his
+soul the thought: "Why do I come to see these people?"
+
+"There is so little in common between them and me," thought Trirodov.
+Only Elisaveta's smile and word consoled him.
+
+Afterwards there was dancing--then card-playing. It was as always, as
+everywhere.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+No one else was expected. The dining-room table was being set for
+supper. Suddenly there was a loud, violent bell-ring. The housemaid
+ran quickly to answer it. Some one in the drawing-room remarked in
+astonishment:
+
+"A rather late visitor."
+
+Every one suddenly felt depressed for some reason. There was an air of
+ominous expectancy. Were robbers about to break in? Was it a telegram
+containing an unpleasant announcement? Or would some one come in
+panting and exhausted and divulge a piece of terrible news? But the
+words they addressed to each other were of quite a different nature.
+
+"But who can it be at such a late hour?" said one woman to another.
+
+"Who else can it be but Piotr Ivanitch!"
+
+"That's so; he likes coming late."
+
+"Do you remember--once at the Taranovs?"
+
+Piotr Ivanitch, approaching at that moment, overheard the remark.
+
+"You are unfair to me, Marya Ivanovna! I've been here a long time,"
+said he.
+
+"Forgive me, but who, then, can it be?" said Marya Ivanovna in
+confusion.
+
+"We'll soon know. Let's take a look."
+
+The inquisitive engineer put his head out into the hall and stumbled
+upon some one in a grey uniform who was walking impetuously towards
+the drawing-room. Some one whispered in suppressed horror:
+
+"The police!"
+
+When the maid, in response to the ring, opened the door, several men
+filed into the hall, awkwardly jostling one another--house-porters,[23]
+gendarmes, detectives, an Inspector of the police, an officer of the
+gendarmerie, two petty constables. The maid stood speechless with
+fright. The police inspector shouted at her:
+
+"Get back to the kitchen!"
+
+A detachment of policemen and porters remained outside under the
+command of the Inspector of the constabulary. They watched to see that
+no one entered or left the Svetilovitch house.
+
+Altogether about twenty policemen entered the house. For some unknown
+reason they were armed with rifles with fixed bayonets. Three
+hideous-looking men in civilian clothes kept close to the policemen.
+These were the detectives. Two policemen stationed themselves at the
+entrance, two others ran to the telephone, which was attached to a
+wall in the hall. It was evident that everything had been arranged
+beforehand by a manager expert in such matters. The rest of the men
+tumbled into the drawing-room. The Inspector of the police stretched
+his neck and, assuming a tense red expression and bulging his eyes,
+shouted very loudly.
+
+"Don't any one dare to move from his place!"
+
+And he looked round in self-satisfaction at the officer of the
+gendarmerie.
+
+The men and the women remained transfixed in their places, as if they
+were acting a tableau. They were looking silently at the new-comers.
+
+The policemen, awkwardly holding their rifles, tramped with their
+ponderous boots on the parquet-floor and made their way about the
+rooms. They paused at all the doors, looked at the visitors timorously
+and savagely, uneasily pressed the barrels of their rifles, and tried
+to look like real soldiers. It was evident that these zealous people
+were ready to fire at any one whomsoever at the first suspicious
+movement: they thought that a band of conspirators had gathered here.
+
+All the rooms were overrun with these strangers. It began to smell of
+bad tobacco, sweat, and vodka. Many of them drank to keep their
+courage up: they were afraid of a possible armed resistance.
+
+A gendarme placed his Colonel's voluminous portfolio on the grand
+piano in the drawing-room. The Colonel, stepping forward to the middle
+of the room, so that the light of the centre cluster of lamps fell
+almost directly upon his bald forehead and upon his bushy,
+sandy-haired moustache, pronounced in an official tone:
+
+"Where's the master of this house?"
+
+He made a determined effort to give the impression that he did not
+know Doctor Svetilovitch or the others. Actually he knew nearly all of
+them personally. Doctor Svetilovitch walked up to him.
+
+"I am the master of this house. I am Doctor Svetilovitch," he said in
+a no less official tone.
+
+The Colonel in the blue uniform then announced:
+
+"M. Svetilovitch, it is my duty to make a search of your house."
+
+Doctor Svetilovitch asked:
+
+"Under whose authority are you doing this? And where is your warrant
+for carrying out the search?"
+
+The Colonel of the gendarmerie turned towards the piano and rummaged
+in his portfolio, but produced nothing. He said:
+
+"I assure you I have an order. If you have any doubts you can call up
+on the telephone."
+
+Then the Colonel turned to the Inspector of the police and said:
+
+"Please collect them all in one room."
+
+All, except Doctor Svetilovitch, were compelled to go into the
+dining-room, which now became crowded and uncomfortable. Armed
+constables were placed at both doors--the one entering the hall and
+the other the dining-room--as well as in all the corners. Their faces
+were dull, and their guns seemed unnecessary and absurd in these
+peaceful surroundings--but then the guests felt even more
+uncomfortable.
+
+A detective looked out from time to time from the drawing-room door.
+He looked searchingly into the faces. The look he had on his
+disagreeable face with its white eyebrows and eyelashes gave the
+impression that he was sniffing the air.
+
+In the drawing-room the Colonel of the gendarmerie was saying to
+Doctor Svetilovitch:
+
+"And now, M. Svetilovitch, will you be so good as to tell me with what
+object you have arranged this gathering?"
+
+Doctor Svetilovitch replied with an ironic smile:
+
+"With the object of dancing and dining, nothing more. You can see for
+yourself that we are all peaceable folk."
+
+"Very well," said the Colonel in an authoritative, rude tone. "Are the
+names and families of all gathered here with the object you state
+known to you?"
+
+Doctor Svetilovitch shrugged his shoulders in astonishment and
+replied:
+
+"Of course they are known to me! Why shouldn't I know my own guests? I
+believe you know many of them yourself."
+
+"Be so good," requested the Colonel, "as to give me the names of all
+your guests."
+
+He produced a sheet of paper from his portfolio and placed it on the
+piano. The Colonel wrote the names down as Doctor Svetilovitch gave
+them. When the doctor stopped short the Colonel asked laconically:
+
+"All?"
+
+"Doctor Svetilovitch answered as briefly:
+
+"All."
+
+"Show us into your study," said the Colonel.
+
+They went into the study and rummaged among everything there. They
+turned over all the books and disarranged the writing-table. They
+looked through the letters. The Colonel demanded:
+
+"Open the bookcases, the bureau drawers."
+
+Doctor Svetilovitch answered: "The keys, as you see, are in their
+places in the locks."
+
+He put his hands into his pockets and stood by the window.
+
+"Will you be good enough to open them?" said the Colonel.
+
+"I can't do this," replied Doctor Svetilovitch. "I do not consider it
+obligatory to help you in your searches."
+
+Pride filled his Cadet's soul. He felt that he was behaving correctly
+and valiantly. What was the consequence? The uninvited guests opened
+everything themselves and rummaged where they pleased. A constable put
+aside all those books which looked suspicious. Several of these books
+had been published in Russia quite openly and sold no less openly.
+They took several books wholly innocent in their contents, simply
+because they thought they detected a rebellious note in their titles.
+
+The Colonel of the gendarmerie announced:
+
+"We will take the correspondence and the manuscripts with us."
+
+Doctor Svetilovitch said in vexation:
+
+"I assure you there's nothing criminal there. The manuscripts are very
+necessary to my work."
+
+"We'll have a look at them," said the Colonel dryly. "Don't be
+concerned about them, they will be kept in safety."
+
+Then they rummaged the other rooms. They searched the beds to see if
+there were any concealed fire-arms.
+
+When he returned into the study the Colonel of the gendarmerie said to
+Doctor Svetilovitch:
+
+"Well, try and see if you can find the papers of the strike
+committee."
+
+"I have no such papers," replied Doctor Svetilovitch.
+
+"S-so! Now," said the Colonel very significantly, "tell us frankly
+where you keep the weapons concealed."
+
+"What weapons?" asked Doctor Svetilovitch in astonishment.
+
+The Colonel replied with an ironic smile:
+
+"Any sort that you may have about--revolvers, bombs, or machine-guns."
+
+"I haven't any kind of weapons," said Doctor Svetilovitch with an
+amused laugh. "I haven't even a gun for hunting. What kind of weapon
+can I possibly have?"
+
+"We'll have a look!" said the Colonel in a meaningful voice.
+
+They turned the whole house upside down. Of course they found no
+weapons of any kind.
+
+While all this was going on Trirodov was reading in the dining-room
+his own verses and some which were not his. The constables listened in
+a dull way. They did not understand anything, but waited patiently to
+see if any rebellious words were mentioned, but their waiting remained
+unrewarded.
+
+The Inspector of the police then entered the dining-room. Every one
+looked guardedly at him. He said solemnly, as if he were announcing
+the beginning of an important and useful work:
+
+"Gentlemen, now we must subject all those present to a personal
+examination. One at a time, please. Suppose we begin with you," said
+he, turning to the engineer.
+
+The face of the Inspector of the police expressed a consciousness of
+his personal dignity. His movements were sure and significant. It was
+evident that he not only was not ashamed of what he was saying and
+doing, but that he had not the slightest comprehension that there was
+anything in this to be ashamed of. The engineer, a young and handsome
+man, shrugged his shoulders, smiled contemptuously and went into the
+study, being directed there by an awkward motion of the red-palmed paw
+of the Commissary of the rural police.
+
+The priest's wife found herself an arm-chair in the dining-room, but
+she was not any more comfortable in it. Terrified in her arm-chair,
+she trembled like jelly. With pale lips she whispered to the
+parish-school girl she had won over to the cause:
+
+"Irinushka, dearest, think of it--they are going to search us!"
+
+The parish-school girl, Irinushka, looking slender, fresh, and red,
+like a newly washed carrot, moved her ears in her fright--a faculty
+which her companions envied her intensely--and whispered something to
+the priest's wife.
+
+The constable looked savagely at the priest's wife and at the
+parish-school girl, and cried out in a shrill, somewhat hoarse voice,
+which resembled the crowing of a cock:
+
+"I must very humbly ask you not to whisper."
+
+The constables with the guns pricked up their ears. Their sudden zeal
+made them perspire. The priest's wife and the parish-school girl
+almost fainted from fright, but the girl at once recovered herself and
+began to get angry; she was now even more angry than she had been
+frightened a little while ago. Small tears gleamed in her eyes; small
+drops of perspiration appeared on her cheeks and on her forehead. The
+angry girl's face grew even redder, so that now she resembled no
+longer a carrot but a wet beetroot. The only person in the room to be
+refreshingly and youthfully indignant, and all aflame with a deep
+anger, she looked truly beautiful in her ingenuous exasperation.
+
+"Here is something new!" she cried. "Whispering is forbidden! Are you
+afraid that we will say something against you, that we will hurt you?"
+
+At this moment all the Cadets and their wives and daughters, who were
+sitting around the table and against the walls, turned their horrified
+faces at the parish-school girl, and all together hissed at her. They
+would have laid hands on her, some one would have gagged her
+mouth--but not one of them dared to make a move. They sat motionless,
+looked at the parish-school girl with eyes dilated with fear, and
+hissed.
+
+The parish-school girl, overcome with fright, grew silent. Only the
+hissing could be heard in the dining-room. Even the constables began
+to smile at the friendly hissing of the Cadets of both sexes.
+
+When they had finished hissing, Irinushka said almost tranquilly:
+
+"We didn't whisper anything criminal. I only said about you, Mr.
+Constable, that you were fascinatingly handsome with your dark hair."
+
+When she saw that the Rameyev sisters were laughing, Irinushka turned
+to Elisaveta:
+
+"You do agree with me, Vetochka, that the constable is a fascinatingly
+handsome man?"
+
+The constable flushed. He was not sure whether the blushing girl was
+laughing at him or in earnest. In any case he frowned, vigorously
+twirled his dark moustache, and exclaimed:
+
+"I must humbly ask you not to express yourself."
+
+Later, at home, Irinushka was scolded for her behaviour, regarded as
+untactful by Priest Zakrasin. The priest's wife was especially angry.
+Poor Irinushka even cried several times.
+
+But this was later. At this particular instant the Inspector of the
+police and the Colonel of the gendarmerie were sitting in Doctor
+Svetilovitch's study and were examining the guests one by one; they
+turned their pockets inside out and, for some unknown reason, deprived
+their owners of letters, notes, and notebooks.
+
+Rameyev was in a quiet, genial mood. He laughed on being searched.
+Trirodov made an effort to be calm and was a little sharper than he
+wished to be.
+
+The women were searched in one of the bedrooms. A police-matron was
+brought for this purpose. She was a dirty, cunning sycophant. The
+contact of her coarse hands was repulsive. Elisaveta felt
+uncomfortably unclean after she had passed through the policewoman's
+paws. Elena shivered with fear and nausea.
+
+Those who had been searched were not permitted to enter the
+dining-room but were led into the drawing-room. Nearly all the
+searched ones were proud of this. They looked as if they were
+celebrating a birthday.
+
+No one was arrested. They began to draw up the official report.
+Trirodov quietly addressed a gendarme, but the latter replied in a
+whisper:
+
+"We are not permitted to enter into conversation with any one. Those
+scoundrelly spies are watching us, so that we shouldn't speak with
+liberals. They are quick to inform against us."
+
+"You are in an unfortunate business," said Trirodov.
+
+The Inspector of the police read the official report aloud. It was
+signed by Doctor Svetilovitch, the Inspector, and the witnesses.
+
+When the uninvited guests left, the hosts and the invited guests sat
+down to supper.
+
+It was presently discovered that the beer prepared for the occasion
+had been consumed. At the same time the cap of one of the guests had
+disappeared. Its owner was very much disturbed. The cap became almost
+the sole topic of conversation.
+
+On the next day there was much talk in town about the search at the
+Svetilovitches, the consumed beer, and especially about the lost cap.
+
+Not a little was said in the newspapers about the beer and the cap.
+One newspaper in St. Petersburg devoted a very heated article to the
+stolen cap. The author of the article made very broad generalizations.
+He asked:
+
+"Is it not one of those caps with which we were preparing to throw
+back the foreign enemy? Is not all Russia seeking now its lost cap and
+cannot be consoled?"[24]
+
+Much less was said and written about the consumed beer. For some
+reason or other it did not offend people so much. In accordance with
+our general custom of placing substance above the form, it was found
+that the stealing of the cap deserved the greater protest, inasmuch as
+it is more difficult to get along without a cap than without beer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+Once more alone! He sat in his room, musing of her, recalling her dear
+features.
+
+There was an album before him--portrait after portrait of her--naked,
+beautiful, calling to love, to the sweet solace of love. Would this
+white breast cease heaving? Would these clear eyes grow dim?
+
+She died.
+
+Trirodov closed the album. For a long time he remained immersed in
+thought. Suddenly there was a rustling behind the wall, which
+gradually grew louder--it seemed as if the whole house were alive with
+the movements of the quiet children. Some one knocked on the door;
+Kirsha entered, distraught. He said:
+
+"Father, let us go into the wood as fast as we can."
+
+Trirodov looked at him in silence. Kirsha went on:
+
+"Something terrible is happening. There, near the hollow, by the
+spring."
+
+Elisaveta's blue eyes appeared to him suddenly as in a flame. Where
+was she? Was she in a difficulty? And his heart fell into the dark
+abyss of fear.
+
+Kirsha made haste. He almost cried in his agitation.
+
+They went on horseback. They whipped up their horses. They feared they
+might be too late.
+
+Again the quiet, dark, intensely pensive wood. Elisaveta walked
+alone--tranquil, blue-eyed, simple in her dress, harmonious in the
+graceful harmony of her deep experiences. She fell into thought--she
+recalled things and mused upon them. Her dreams were revealed in the
+gleam of her blue eyes. Dreams of happiness and of passionate love
+were interwoven with a different, greater love; and these melted into
+one another in the fiery longing for noble activity and sacrifice.
+
+What did she not recall? What did she not dream of?
+
+Sharp swords were being forged. To whose lot would they fall?
+
+The high standard of solitary freedom was fluttering.
+
+Youths and maidens!
+
+There, in the dark halls of his house, proud plans were being made.
+
+What a beautiful environment of naked beauty!
+
+There were the children--happy and beautiful--in the wood.
+
+There were the quiet children in his house--radiant and lovable and
+touched with such sadness.
+
+There was the strange Kirsha.
+
+Portraits of his first wife--naked and beautiful.
+
+Elisaveta's blue eyes gleamed dreamily.
+
+She recalled the details of the previous evening--the remote room in
+Trirodov's house, the small gathering in it, the long discussions, the
+subsequent labours, the measured knock of the typing-machine, the damp
+pages put into portfolios.
+
+Then she thought how she, Stchemilov, Voronok and some one else walked
+out into the various streets of the town to paste up the bills. They
+put the paste on while still walking. They always took a look round
+first to see that no one was in sight. Then they would pause and
+quickly stick the bill on the fence. They would go on farther.... The
+effort had been successful.
+
+Elisaveta did not think where she was going; she had walked quite far
+out of her way, to a place that she had not been to before. She
+imagined that the quiet children were keeping guard over her. She
+walked trustfully in the forest silence, yielding her bare feet to the
+caresses of the moist forest grasses, and now listened, now ceased
+listening, in delicious drowsiness.
+
+Something rustled behind the bushes, some one's nimble feet were
+running behind the light undergrowth.
+
+Suddenly she heard a loud laugh--almost at her ears; it broke into her
+sweet reverie with such a violent suddenness--like the trumpet of an
+archangel calling to wake the dear dead on Judgment Day. Elisaveta
+felt some one's hot breath on her neck. A rough, perspiring hand
+caught her by her bared forearm.
+
+It was as if Elisaveta had suddenly awakened from a pleasant dream.
+She raised her frightened eyes and paused like one bewitched. Two
+vigorous ragged men stood before her. They were both handsome young
+fellows; one of them was astonishingly handsome, swarthy, black-eyed.
+Both were barely covered by their dirty rags, the openings in which
+showed their dirty, perspiring, powerful bodies.
+
+The men were laughing and crying insolently:
+
+"We've caught you this time, pretty one!"
+
+"We'll fondle you to your heart's content--you shan't forget us so
+soon!"
+
+They drew closer and closer to her and blew their hot breath upon her.
+Elisaveta suddenly came to herself, tore herself away with a quick
+movement and began to run. A horror akin to wonder swung the
+resounding bell in her breast--her heavily beating heart. It hindered
+her running, and there was a beating of sharp little hammers under her
+knees.
+
+The two men quickly overtook her, and as they obstructed her passage
+they laughed insolently and said:
+
+"Ah, my beauty! Don't make a fuss!"
+
+"You won't get away anyway."
+
+They jostled one another as they pulled Elisaveta about, each towards
+himself; and acted altogether awkwardly, as if they did not know who
+should begin and how. Their sensual panting bared their white teeth,
+vigorous as those of a wild beast. The beauty of the half-naked,
+swarthy man tempted Elisaveta--it was a sudden piquant temptation
+acting like a poison.
+
+The handsome man, his voice hoarse with agitation, shouted:
+
+"Tear her clothes! Let her dance naked before us, and make our eyes
+glad."
+
+"She hasn't much on!" the other responded with a gay laugh.
+
+He caught the broad collar of Elisaveta's dress with one hand and
+jerked it forward; he thrust the other hand, large, hot, and
+perspiring, under her chemise and pressed and squeezed her taut young
+breast.
+
+"Two men against one woman--aren't you ashamed?" said Elisaveta.
+
+"Don't be ashamed, my lass, and lie down on the grass," exclaimed the
+handsome, swarthy one, with a laugh very much like a horse's neigh.
+His white teeth gleamed, his eyes flamed with desire, as he tore
+Elisaveta's clothes with his hands and his teeth. The red and the
+white roses of her body were soon bared.
+
+The sensual breathing of the assailants was horrible and repugnant to
+her, and she found it no less horrible and repugnant to look at their
+perspiring faces, at the gleaming of their enkindled eyes. But their
+beauty was tempting. In the dark depths of her consciousness a thought
+struggled--to yield herself, to yield willingly.
+
+Her dress and chemise, flimsy of texture, ripped with a barely audible
+noise. Elisaveta struggled desperately, and shouted something--she did
+not remember what.
+
+All her clothes were already torn, and soon the last shreds of her
+very light garments fell from her naked body. And in the struggle the
+rags of the two clumsily moving men ripped with a loud, splitting
+sound, their sudden nakedness rousing them even more.
+
+There was seductiveness for Elisaveta in the nakedness of these
+impetuous bodies. She taunted them:
+
+"The two of you can't manage one girl."
+
+She was strong and agile. It was difficult for them to conquer her.
+Her naked body struggled and wriggled itself out of their arms. The
+blue arch of her teeth on the naked shoulder of the handsome, swarthy
+man grew red quickly. Drops of dark blood spurted on to his naked
+torso.
+
+"Wait, you carrion-flesh," he cried in a hoarse voice, "I will...."
+
+The powerful but awkward pair grew more and more exasperated. They
+were enraged and intoxicated by her extraordinary resistance, by the
+falling away of their rags and their sudden nakedness. They beat
+Elisaveta, in the beginning with their fists, later with quickly
+severed branches, or with those which already lay on the ground. The
+sharp fires of pain stung her naked body and tempted her with a
+burning temptation to yield herself willingly. But she did not yield
+herself. Her loud sobs resounded for some distance around her.
+
+The struggle continued for a long time. Elisaveta already began to
+weaken, and the raging passions of the two men had not yet exhausted
+themselves. Naked and savage, the lips of their wry mouths grown blue,
+their blood-inflamed eyes gleaming dimly, they were on the point of
+drawing her down to the ground.
+
+Suddenly the white, quiet boys came running in a swarm into the glade,
+lightly and noiselessly, like a rapid, light summer shower. They
+appeared so quickly from among the bushes and threw themselves on the
+savage pair; they surrounded them, cast themselves upon them, threw
+them down, cast a sleeping spell upon them, and dragged them away into
+the depth of the dark hollow. And they left the naked bodies sprawling
+helplessly on the rough grasses.
+
+The rapid, noiseless movements of the quiet boys put Elisaveta into a
+mood verging on oblivion, half painful and half sweet.
+
+What happened in that thicket seemed like a heavy and incredible dream
+to Elisaveta--a sudden and cruel whim of the undependable Aisa. And
+for a long time a dark horror nestled in her soul, merging with
+senseless laughter--the exulting smile of pitiless irony....
+
+Elisaveta came to herself. She saw above her the green branches of the
+birches and the lovely pale faces. She lay in the refreshing grass
+encircled by quiet children. She could not recall at once what had
+happened to her. Her nakedness was incomprehensible to her--but she
+felt no shame.
+
+Her eyes paused for a moment on some one's neatly combed fair hair.
+She recognized Klavdia, the dissembling instructress. She stood under
+the tree, her arms folded, and looked with her grey eyes gleaming with
+envy at Elisaveta's naked body; it was as if a grey spider was
+spinning across her soul a grey web of dull oblivion and tedious
+indifference.
+
+"Clothes will be here in a moment," said one of the boys quietly.
+
+Elisaveta closed her eyes and lay tranquilly. Her head felt somewhat
+dizzy. Fatigue overcame her. Beautiful and graceful she lay there--as
+perfect as the dream of Don Quixote....
+
+They were dark, long-drawn-out moments, and there fell in their midst
+from the gradually darkening sky a brief interval of great
+comprehension. And this brief interval became like an age--from birth
+until death. Early next morning Elisaveta clearly recalled the course
+of this strange, vivid life--the sad lofty road, the life of Queen
+Ortruda.[25]
+
+And when, suffocating, Ortruda was dying....
+
+The rush of light feet in the grass awakened Elisaveta. Light, adroit
+hands dressed her. The quiet boys helped her to rise. Elisaveta rose
+and looked around her: a light green Grecian tunic draped her tired
+body within its broad folds. Elisaveta thought:
+
+"How shall I manage to walk so far?"
+
+And as if in answer to her question, she suddenly caught sight of a
+light trap under the trees. Some one said:
+
+"Kirsha will drive you home."
+
+In her strange dress Elisaveta returned home. She sat silently in the
+trap. She did not even notice Trirodov. She was trying to recall
+something. Through the dark horror and senseless laughter there shone
+clearer and clearer the recollection of another life lived through
+momentarily--the life of Queen Ortruda.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+The quiet boy Grisha stood within the enclosure of enchanted sadness
+and mystery. His face was pale and reposeful, and there was a keen,
+quiet sparkle in his cool, sky-blue eyes.
+
+The early evening sky was growing bluer--a blue reposefulness was
+pouring itself out upon the earth and extinguishing the ruby-coloured
+flames of the sunset. And silhouetted against the blueness of the
+heights birds were flying about. Why should they have wings, these
+earthly, preoccupied creatures?
+
+As he stood there in the quiet of the enclosure, Grisha felt himself
+drawn by the fragrance of the lilies of the valley, no less innocent
+than he, the quiet, blue-eyed Grisha. It was as if some one were
+calling him outside the enclosure, towards the poor life which
+tormented itself in the blue and mist-enveloped distance, calling him
+despairingly and agonizingly--and he both wished and did not wish to
+go. Some one's voice, full of distress, called him wearily to life
+outside.
+
+How can calls of distress be resisted? When will the tranquil heart
+forget earthly travail wholly and for always?
+
+At last Grisha walked out of the gate. He took a deep breath of the
+sharp but delicious outside air. He walked quietly upon the narrow,
+dusty path. His light footprints lay behind him, and his white clothes
+glimmered brightly, in quiet movement, against the dim verdure and the
+grey dust. Before him, barely visible, rose the white, lifeless, clear
+moon, powerless to enchant the tedious earthly spaces.
+
+Then the town began--the grey, dull, tiresome town, with its dirty
+back yards, consumptive vegetable gardens, broken-down hedges,
+bathhouses, and sheds, and all manner of ugly projections and
+depressing amorphousness--all of it resembling a hopeless ruin.
+
+Egorka, the eleven-year-old son of a local commoner, stood by the
+hedge of one of the vegetable gardens. What had been red calico once
+made up his torn shirt; but his face!--it was like that of an angel in
+a tawny mask covered with spots of dirt and dust. Wings are for light
+feet, but what can the earth do? Only dust and clay cling to light
+feet.
+
+Egorka had come out to play. He waited for his companions, but for
+some reason none of them was to be seen. He stood alone there, now
+listening to this, now looking at that. He suddenly espied on the
+other side of the hedge an unknown quiet boy, who--all in white--was
+looking at him. Egorka asked in astonishment:
+
+"Where do you come from?"
+
+"You can never know," said Grisha.
+
+"Don't be too sure of that!" shouted Egorka gaily. "Maybe I do know.
+Now tell me."
+
+"Would you like to know?" asked Grisha with a smile.
+
+It was a tranquil smile. Egorka was about to stick his tongue out in
+response, but changed his mind for some reason. They began to
+converse, to exchange whispers.
+
+Everything around them lapsed into deep quiet, and nothing appeared to
+give heed to them--it was as if the two little ones went off into
+quite another world, behind a thin curtain which no one could rend. So
+motionless stood the birches bewitched mysteriously by three fallen
+spirits. Grisha asked again:
+
+"Yes, you would like to know?"
+
+"Honest to God, I'd like to; here's a cross to prove it," said Egorka
+rather quickly, and he crossed himself with an oblique movement of the
+joined fingers of his dirty hand.
+
+"Then follow me," said Grisha.
+
+He turned lightly homewards, and as he walked he did not stop to look
+round at the meagre, tiresome objects of this grey life. Egorka
+followed the white boy. He walked quietly and marvelled at the other.
+He thought for a while, then he asked:
+
+"Are you not one of God's angels? Why are you so white?"
+
+The quiet boy smiled at these words. He said with a light sigh:
+
+"No, I am a human being."
+
+"You don't mean it? An ordinary boy?"
+
+"Just like you--almost like you."
+
+"How clean you are! I should say you washed yourself seven times a day
+with egg-soap! You walk about barefoot, not at all like me, and the
+sunburn doesn't seem to stick to you--there's only a cover of dust on
+your feet."
+
+The aroma of violets came from somewhere, and it mingled now with the
+dry smell of the flying dust, now with the sickly, half-sweet,
+half-bitter odour of the smoke of a forest fire.
+
+The two boys avoided the tiresome monotony of the fields and the
+roads, and entered the dark silence of the wood. They passed by glades
+and copses and quietly purling streams. The boys strode along narrow
+footpaths, where the gentle dew clung to their feet. Everything
+appeared wonderful in Egorka's eyes, used only to the raging
+turbulence of a malignant yet dull and grey life. The time lingered
+on, running and consuming itself, wreathed in a circle of delicious
+moments, and it seemed to Egorka that he had come into some fabulous
+land. He slept somewhere at night, and he felt intensely happy on
+opening his eyes next morning, having been awakened by the twitter of
+birds which shook the dew from the pliant tree-limbs; then he played
+with the cheerful boys and listened to music.
+
+Sometimes the white Grisha left Egorka all by himself. Then he again
+reappeared. Egorka noticed that Grisha kept apart from the others, the
+cheerful, noisy children; that he did not play with them, and that he
+spoke little--not that he was afraid, or deliberately turned aside,
+but simply because it seemed to arrange itself, and it was natural for
+him to be alone, radiant and sad.
+
+Once Egorka and Grisha, on being left by themselves, went strolling
+together through a little wood which was all permeated with light. The
+wood grew denser and denser.
+
+They came to two tall, straight trees. A bronze rod was suspended
+between them, and upon the rod, on rings, hung a dark red silk
+curtain. The light breeze caused the thin draperies to flutter. The
+quiet, blue-eyed Grisha drew the curtain aside. The red folds came
+together with a sharp rustle and with a sudden flare as of a flame.
+The opening revealed a wooded vista, all permeated with a strangely
+bright light, like a vision of a transfigured land. Grisha said:
+
+"Go, Egorushka--it is good there."
+
+Egorka looked into the clear wooded distance: fear beset his heart,
+and he said quietly:
+
+"I am afraid."
+
+"What are you afraid of, silly boy?" asked Grisha affectionately.
+
+"I don't know. Something makes me afraid," said Egorka timidly.
+
+Grisha felt aggrieved. He sighed quietly and then said:
+
+"Well, go home, then, if you are afraid here."
+
+Egorka recalled his home, his mother, the town he lived in. He did not
+have a very happy time of it at home--they lived poorly, and he was
+whipped often. Egorka suddenly threw himself at the quiet Grisha,
+caught him by his gentle, cool hands, and cried:
+
+"Don't chase me away, dear Grisha, don't chase me from you."
+
+"Am I chasing you away?" retorted Grisha. "You yourself don't want to
+come."
+
+Egorka got down on his knees and whispered as he kissed Grisha's feet:
+
+"I pray to you angels with all my strength."
+
+"Then follow me," said Grisha.
+
+Light hands descended on Egorka's shoulders and lifted him from the
+grass. Egorka followed Grisha obediently to the blue paradise of his
+quiet eyes. A peaceful valley opened before him and the quiet children
+played in it. The dew fell on Egorka's feet, and its kisses gave him
+joy. The quiet children surrounded Egorka and Grisha and, all joining
+hands in one broad ring, carried the two boys with them in a swiftly
+moving dance.
+
+"My dear angels," shouted Egorka, twirling and rejoicing, "you have
+bright little faces, you have clean little eyes, you have white little
+hands, you have light little feet! Am I on earth or am I in Paradise?
+My dear ones, my little brothers and little sisters, where are your
+little wings?"
+
+Some one's near, sweet-sounding voice answered him:
+
+"You are upon the earth, not in Paradise, and we have no need of
+wings--we fly wingless."
+
+They captivated, bewitched, and caressed him. They showed him all the
+wonders of the wood under the tree-stumps, the bushes, the dry
+leaves--little wood-sprites with rustling little voices, with
+spider-webby hair, straight ones and hunchbacked ones; little old men
+of the wood; the shadow-sprites and little companion spirits;
+bantering little sprites in green coats, midnight ones and daylight
+ones, grey ones and black ones; little jokers-pokers with shaggy
+little paws; fabulous birds and animals--everything that is not to be
+seen in the gloomy, everyday, earthly world.
+
+Egorka had a splendid time with the quiet children. He did not notice
+how a whole week had passed by--from Friday to Friday. And suddenly he
+began to long for his mother. He heard her calling him at night, and
+as he woke in agitation he called:
+
+"Mamma, where are you?"
+
+There was stillness and silence all around him--it was an altogether
+unknown world. Egorka began to cry. The quiet children came to comfort
+him. They said to him:
+
+"There's nothing to cry about. You will return to your mother. And she
+will be glad, and she will caress you."
+
+"She may whip me," said Egorka, sobbing.
+
+The quiet children smiled and said:
+
+"Fathers and mothers whip their children."
+
+"They like to do it."
+
+"It seems wicked to beat any one."
+
+"But they really mean well."
+
+"They beat whom they love."
+
+"People mix everything up shame, love, pain."
+
+"Don't you be afraid, Egorushka--she's a mother."
+
+"Very well, I'll not be afraid," said Egorka, comforted.
+
+When Egorka took leave of the quiet children Grisha said to him:
+
+"You had better not tell your mother where you have passed all this
+time."
+
+"No, I won't tell," replied Egorka vigorously, "not for anything."
+
+"You'll blab it out," said one of the girls.
+
+She had dark, infinitely deep eyes; her thin, bare arms were always
+folded obstinately across her breast. She spoke even less than the
+other quiet children, and of all human words she liked "no" most.
+
+"No, I shan't blab anything," asserted Egorka. "I shan't even tell any
+one where I have been; I shall put all these words under lock and
+key."
+
+That same evening when Egorka left with Grisha, his mother suddenly
+missed him. She shouted a long time and cursed and threatened; but as
+there was no response she became frightened. "Perhaps he's been
+drowned," she thought. She ran among her neighbours, wailing and
+lamenting.
+
+"My boy's gone. I can't find him anywhere. I simply don't know where
+else to look. He's either drowned in the river or fallen into a
+well--that's what comes of mischief-making."
+
+One neighbour suggested:
+
+"It's most likely the Jews have caught him and are keeping him in some
+out-of-the-way spot, and only waiting to let his Christian blood and
+then drink it."
+
+This guess pleased them. They said with great assurance:
+
+"It's Jews' work."
+
+"They are again at it, that accursed breed."
+
+"There's no getting rid of them."
+
+"What a wretched affair!"
+
+They all believed this. The disturbing rumour that the Jews had stolen
+a Christian boy spread about town. Ostrov took a most zealous share in
+disseminating the rumour. The markets were filled with noisy
+discussions. The tradesmen and dealers, instigated by Ostrov, bellowed
+loudly their denunciations. Why did Ostrov do this? He knew, of
+course, that it was a lie. But latterly, acting on the instructions of
+the local branch of the Black Hundred, he had been engaged in
+provocatory work. The new episode came in handily.
+
+The police began an investigation. They looked for the boy, but
+without success. In any case, they found a Jew who had been seen by
+some one near Egorka's house. He was arrested.
+
+It was evening again. Egorka's mother was at home when Egorka
+returned. There was a radiant sadness about him as he walked up to his
+mother, kissed her and said:
+
+"Hello, mamma!"
+
+Egorka's mother assailed him with questions:
+
+"Oh, you little wretch! Where have you been? What have you been doing?
+What unclean demons have carried you away?"
+
+Egorka remembered his promise. He stood before his mother in obstinate
+silence. His mother questioned him angrily:
+
+"Where have you been? tell me! Did the Jews try to crucify you?"
+
+"What Jews?" exclaimed Egorka. "No one has tried to crucify me."
+
+"You just wait, you young brat," shouted his mother in a rage, "I'll
+make you talk."
+
+She caught hold of the besom and began to tear off its twigs. Then she
+stripped the boy of his light clothes. Still wrapt in his radiant
+sadness, Egorka looked at his mother with astonished eyes. He cried
+plaintively:
+
+"Mamma, what are you doing?"
+
+But, already seized by the rough hand, the little body that had been
+washed by the still waters began to struggle on the knees of the
+harshly crying woman. It was painful, and Egorka sobbed in a shrill
+voice. His mother beat him long and painfully, and she accompanied
+each blow with an admonition:
+
+"Tell me where you've been! Tell me! I won't stop until you tell me."
+
+At last she stopped and burst out into violent crying:
+
+"Why has God punished me so? But no, I'll yet beat a word out of you.
+I'll give it to you worse to-morrow."
+
+Egorka was shaken less by the physical pain than by the unexpected
+harshness of his reception. He had been in touch with another world,
+and the quiet children in the enchanted valley had reconstructed his
+soul on another plane.
+
+His mother, however, loved him. Of course, she loved him. That was why
+she beat him in her anger. Love and cruelty go always together among
+humankind. They like to torment, vengeance gives them pleasure. But
+later Egorka's mother took pity on him; she thought she had flogged
+him too hard. And now she walked up quietly to him.
+
+Egorka lay on the bench and moaned softly, then he grew silent. His
+mother smoothed his back awkwardly with her rough hands and left him.
+She thought he had gone to sleep.
+
+In the morning she went to wake him. She found him lying cold and
+motionless on the bench, his face downward. And his radiance was gone
+from him--he lay there a dark, cold corpse. The horrified mother began
+to wail:
+
+"He's dead! Egorushka, are you really dead? Oh, God--and his little
+hands are quite cold!"
+
+She dashed out to her neighbours, she aroused the whole neighbourhood
+with her shrill cries. Inquisitive women soon filled the house.
+
+"I struck him ever so lightly with a thin twig," the mother wailed.
+"Then my angel lay down on the bench, cried a little, then grew quiet
+and went to sleep, and in the morning he gave up his soul to God."
+
+Held by a heavy, death-like sleep, Egorka lay there motionless and to
+all appearances lifeless, and listened to his mother's wailing and to
+the discordant clamour of voices. And he heard his mother keening over
+him:
+
+"Those accursed Jews have sucked out all his blood! It was not the
+first time that I beat my little darling! It used to be that I'd beat
+him and put a bit of salt on afterwards, and nothing would come of
+it--and here I've hit him with a little twig and he, my handsome
+darling, my little angel...."
+
+Egorka heard her groans and wondered at his fettered helplessness and
+immobility. He seemed to hear the noise of some one else's body--he
+realized that it was his own as it was put on the floor to be washed.
+He had an intense longing to stir, to rise, but he could not. He
+thought:
+
+"I have died: what are they going to do with me now?"
+
+And again he thought:
+
+"Why is it that my soul is not leaving my body? I do not feel that I
+have arms or legs, yet I can hear."
+
+He wondered and waited. Then, with a sudden powerless exertion, he
+tried to wake from his death-like sleep, to return to himself, to run
+away from the dark grave--and again his helpless will drooped, and
+again he waited.
+
+And he heard the sounds of the funeral chant, and noted the blueness
+of the little cloud of incense-smoke and the fragrance that was wafted
+by the quietly sounding swings of the smoky censer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+Egorka was buried. His mother wept long over his grave in
+long-drawn-out wails, then went home. She was convinced that her boy
+would be far better off there than upon the earth, and was consoled.
+But such truly Russian people as Kerbakh, Ostrov, and others would not
+be consoled. They let loose evil rumours. The report spread:
+
+"The Jews have tortured a Christian boy. They've cut him up with
+knives and used his blood in their matzoth."[26]
+
+The slanderers were not deterred by the consideration that the Jewish
+Passover had taken place very much earlier than the running away of
+Egorka from his mother.
+
+The townsmen were agitated--those who believed as well as those who
+did not believe the tale. Demands were made for an investigation and
+the opening of the grave.
+
+Elisaveta came to Trirodov's house early in the day and remained there
+long. Trirodov showed her his colony. The quiet boy Grisha accompanied
+them, and looked with the blue reposefulness of his impassionate eyes
+into the blue flames of her rapturous ones, soothing the sultriness
+and passion of her agitation.
+
+Her light, ample dress seemed transparent--the perfect outlines of her
+body showed clearly; the red and white roses of her breast and
+shoulders were visible. Her sunburnt feet were bare--she loved the
+affectionate contact of the earth and the grass.
+
+It was all like a paradise--the twittering of the birds, the hubbub of
+the children, the rustle of the wind in the grass and in the trees,
+the murmur of the brook in the wood. Everything was innocent, as in
+Paradise--girls, scantily dressed, came up, spoke to them, and were
+not ashamed. Everything was chaste, as in Paradise. And cloudless, the
+sky shone above the forest glades.
+
+Towards evening Elisaveta sat at Trirodov's. They read poems.
+Elisaveta loved poems even before she met Trirodov. Who else should
+love them if not girls? Now she read poems avidly. Whole hours passed
+by quickly in reading, and the poems gave birth in her to sweet and
+bitter emotions and passionate dreams.
+
+Perhaps this was so because she was in love; in love she had found a
+new sun for herself, and she led a new dance round it of dreams,
+hopes, sorrows, joys, enchantments, and raptures. And, flaunting a
+rainbow of radiance, this round dance, this naming circle of impetuous
+emotions, was full of a rich music and vivid colour.
+
+Trirodov caused her to fall in love with the verses of the new poets.
+She found such enchantments and such disillusions in the fragile music
+of new poetry, written so happily and so elusively, with a lightness
+and transparency like those of the dresses that she now loved to wear.
+
+With the harmony of their souls thus achieved, why should they not
+love one another?
+
+Once, after they had read together some beautiful love-poems, Trirodov
+remarked:
+
+"Love says 'No' to the world, the lyrical 'No'--marriage says 'Yes' to
+it, the ironic 'Yes.' To be in love, to strive, yet not to
+possess--that is the poetry of love, sweet but illusive. Externally
+love contradicts the world and conceals its fatal discord. To be
+together, to say 'Yes' to some one, to yield oneself--that is the way
+in which life reveals its irreconcilable contradictions. And how to be
+together when we are such solitary souls? And how to yield oneself?
+Mask after mask falls off, and it is terrible to see Janus-faced
+actuality. A weariness comes on--what has become of love, that love
+which had prided itself on being stronger than death?"
+
+"You have had a wife," said Elisaveta. "You loved her. Everything here
+is reminiscent of her. She was beautiful."
+
+Her voice became dark, and the blue flashes under the moist eyelids
+lit up with a jealous flame. Trirodov smiled and said sadly:
+
+"She left life before the time had come for weariness to make its
+appearance. My Dulcinea did not want to become Aldonza."
+
+"Dulcinea is loved," said Elisaveta, "but the fullness of life belongs
+to Aldonza becoming Dulcinea."
+
+"But does Aldonza want that?" asked Trirodov.
+
+"She wants it, but cannot realize it," said Elisaveta. "But we will
+help her, we will teach her."
+
+Trirodov smiled affectionately--if sadly--and said:
+
+"But he, like the eternal Don Juan, always seeks Dulcinea. And what is
+to him the poor earthly Aldonza, poisoned by the dream of beauty?"
+
+"It is for that that he will love her," replied Elisaveta; "because
+she is poor and has been poisoned by the exultant dream of beauty. The
+basis for their union will be creative beauty."
+
+The night came: a darkness settled outside the windows, full of the
+whisperings of sad, pellucid voices. Trirodov walked up to the window.
+Elisaveta soon stood beside him--and almost at the same instant their
+eyes fixed themselves upon the distant, dimly visible cemetery.
+Trirodov said quietly:
+
+"He has been buried there. But he will rise from his grave."
+
+Elisaveta looked at him in astonishment and asked:
+
+"Who?"
+
+Trirodov glanced at her like one suddenly awakened and said slowly:
+
+"It is a boy who has not yet lived, and who is still chaste. His body
+contains all possibilities and not a single achievement. He is like
+one created to receive every energy directed at him. Now he is asleep
+in his tight coffin, in a grave. He will awake for a life free from
+passions and desires, for clear seeing and hearing, for the
+establishment of one will."
+
+"When will he awake?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+"When I wish it," said Trirodov, "I will wake him."
+
+The sound of his voice was sad and insistent--like the sound of an
+invocation.
+
+"To-night?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+"If you wish it," answered Trirodov quietly.
+
+"Must I leave?" she asked again.
+
+"Yes," he answered, just as simply and as quietly as before.
+
+She bid him good-bye and left. Trirodov again walked up to the window.
+He called some one in a voice of invocation and whispered:
+
+"You will awake, dear one. Wake, rise, come to me. I will open your
+eyes, and you will see what you have not yet seen. I will open your
+ears, and you will hear what you have not yet heard. You are of the
+earth--I will not part you from the earth. You are from me, you are
+mine, you are I; come to me. Wake!"
+
+He waited confidently. He knew that when the sleeper had awakened in
+his grave they would come to him--the wise, innocent ones--and would
+tell him.
+
+Kirsha walked into the room quietly. He walked up to his father and
+asked:
+
+"Are you looking at the cemetery?"
+
+Trirodov laid his hand silently on the boy's head. Kirsha said:
+
+"There is a boy in one of the graves who is not dead."
+
+"How do you know?" asked Trirodov.
+
+But he knew what Kirsha's answer would be. Kirsha said:
+
+"Grisha told me that Egorka was not quite dead. He is asleep; but he
+will awake!"
+
+"Yes," said Trirodov.
+
+"And will he come to you?" asked Kirsha.
+
+"Yes," was the answer.
+
+"When will he come?" asked Kirsha again.
+
+Trirodov said with a smile:
+
+"Rouse Grisha and ask him whether the sleeper has yet begun to wake in
+his grave."
+
+Kirsha walked away. Trirodov looked in silence at the distant
+cemetery, where the dark, bereaved night stooped sadly over the
+crosses.
+
+"And where are you, my happy beloved?"
+
+A quiet rustle made itself audible behind the doors: the little
+house-sprites moved quietly near the walls, and whispered and waited.
+
+Awakened by a low sigh, Grisha arose. He walked out into the garden
+and stood listening with downcast eyes near the railing. He was
+smiling, but without joy. Who knew whether the other would rejoice?
+
+Kirsha walked up to him and, indicating the cemetery with a movement
+of his head, asked:
+
+"Is he alive? Has he awakened?"
+
+"Yes," said Grisha. "Egorushka is sighing in his grave; he's just
+awakened."
+
+Kirsha ran home to his father and repeated to him Grisha's words.
+
+"We must make haste," said Trirodov.
+
+He again experienced an agitation with which he had been long
+familiar. He felt in himself an ebb and flow as of some strange power.
+A kind of marvellous energy, gathered by some means known to himself
+alone, issued slowly from him. A mysterious current passed between
+himself and the grave where the boy who had departed from life lay in
+the throes of death-sleep; it cast a spell upon the sleeper and caused
+him to stir.
+
+Trirodov quickly descended the stairway into the room where the quiet
+children slept. His light footsteps were barely audible, and his feet
+felt the cold that came from the planked floor. The quiet children lay
+upon their beds motionlessly, as if they did not breathe. It seemed as
+if there were many of them, and that they slept eternally in the
+endless darkness of that quiet bedchamber.
+
+Trirodov paused seven times, and each time one of the sleepers awoke
+at his one glance. Three boys and four girls answered his call. They
+stood there tranquilly, looked at Trirodov and waited.
+
+"Follow me!" said Trirodov.
+
+They walked after him, the white quiet ones, and the rustle of their
+light footsteps was barely heard.
+
+Kirsha waited in the garden--and he seemed earthly and dark among the
+white, quiet children.
+
+They walked quickly upon the Navii path like gliding, nocturnal
+shadows, one after another, the whole ten of them, with Grisha
+leading. The dew fell upon their naked feet, and the ground under
+their feet was soft, warm, and sad.
+
+Egorka awoke in his grave. It was dark and somewhat stuffy. His head
+felt oppressed as under a weight. There sounded in his ears the
+persistent call:
+
+"Rise, come to me."
+
+Fear assailed him. His eyes looked but did not see. It was hard to
+breathe. He recalled something, and all that he recalled was like a
+horrible delirium. Then came the sudden awful realization:
+
+"I am in a grave, in a coffin."
+
+He groaned, and his heart began to thump. His throat, as if clutched
+by some one's fingers, shivered convulsively. His eyes dilated widely,
+and the flaming darkness of the nailed-up coffin swept before them. As
+he tossed about in the tight coffin, tormented by his dread, Egorka
+moaned, and whispered in a dull voice:
+
+"Three house-sprites, three wood-sprites, three fallen sprites!"
+
+The gate to the burial-ground was open. Trirodov and the children
+entered. They were among the poor graves--simple little mounds and
+wooden crosses. It was gloomy, damp, and quiet. There was a smell of
+grass--a graveyard reverie. The crosses gleamed white in the mist. A
+poignant silence hovered there, and the whole cemetery seemed filled
+with the dark reverie of the dead. Poignant feelings were
+re-experienced deliciously and painfully.
+
+Nowhere does the soil feel so near to one as in a graveyard--it is the
+sacred soil of repose. They walked quietly, the whole ten of them, one
+after another, and felt the coolness and the softness of the ground
+under their bare feet. They passed near a grave. The little mound was
+quiet and poor, and it seemed as if the earth were crying, wailing,
+and suffering.
+
+The boys, dimly discernible in the darkness against the lumps of black
+earth, began to dig the grave. The little girls stood very quietly,
+one at each of the four sides, and seemed engrossed in the nocturnal
+silence. The watchmen slept like the dead, and the dead slept, keeping
+a powerless watch over their graves.
+
+Slowly the little coffin began to show. The low moan became audible.
+The boys already jumped into the grave. They bent over the poor little
+coffin. Though it was half-covered with earth, the boys already felt
+the tremors of its cover under their feet.
+
+The cover, hammered down with nails, yielded easily to the exertions
+of the small, childish hands, and fell to the side against the grave's
+earthen wall. The coffin opened as simply as the door of a room opens.
+
+Egorka was already losing his consciousness. When the boys first
+looked at him he was lying on his side. He stirred faintly.
+
+He breathed in the air as if with short, broken sighs. He shivered. He
+turned over on his back.
+
+The fresh air blew into his face like a young rapture of deliverance.
+There was a sudden instant of joy--and it went out like a flame. Why
+indeed, should he rejoice? The tranquil, unjoyous ones bent over him.
+
+Again to live? His soul felt strange, quiet, indifferent. Some one
+said affectionately over him:
+
+"Rise, dear one, come to us; we will show you that which you have not
+seen and will teach you that which is secret."
+
+The stars of the far sky looked into his eyes, and some one's near,
+affectionate eyes bent over him. Many, many gentle, cool hands
+stretched out to him; they took him, helped him up and lifted him out.
+
+He stood in a circle. They looked at him. His arms again folded
+themselves across his breast, as in the grave--as, if the habit had
+been assimilated for ages. One of the little girls rearranged them and
+straightened them out.
+
+Suddenly Egorka asked:
+
+"What is this? A little grave?"
+
+Grisha replied:
+
+"This is your grave, but you will be with us and with our master."
+
+"And the grave?" asked Egorka.
+
+"We will fill it up again," replied Grisha.
+
+The boys began to fill up the grave. Egorka looked on in quiet
+astonishment as lumps of earth fell into the grave and the little
+mound kept on growing. The ground was smoothed down and the cross
+placed as before. Egorka walked up to it and read the inscription:
+
+"Boy Giorgiy Antipov."
+
+Then the year, month, and date of his death.
+
+He was faintly astonished, but an ominous indifference already made
+captive his soul.
+
+Some one touched his shoulder and asked something. Egorka was silent.
+He looked as if he did not understand.
+
+"Come to me," said Trirodov quietly to him.
+
+The little girl who always said "No" took Egorka by the hand and led
+him away. They went back by the same road as they came. The darkness
+closed after them.
+
+Egorka remained with the quiet children. He had no passport, and his
+life was different.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+Trirodov returned home. Like one returned from a grave, he felt happy
+and light-hearted. His heart was consumed with exultation and
+resolution. He recalled the talk he had had that day with Elisaveta.
+There rose before him the proud joyous vision of life transfigured by
+the force of creative art, of life created by the proud will.
+
+If love, or what seemed like love, came to him, why should he resist
+it? Whether it was a true emotion, or an illusion, was it not all the
+same? The will, exulting above the world, would determine everything
+as it wanted. It would have the power to erect a beautiful love over
+the helplessness of the exhausted senses.
+
+That which has so long weighed in the scales of consciousness, that
+which has so long and so desperately wrestled in the dark region of
+the unconscious now stood at a clear decision. Let the word "Yes" he
+said. Once more Yes. For a new grief? For a glorious triumph? It was
+all the same. If only he believed in her--and she in him. So much did
+one mean to the other now.
+
+Trirodov sat down at the table. He smiled, and for a few moments
+seemed lost in thought. Then he wrote quickly upon a light blue sheet
+of paper:
+
+"Elisaveta, I want your love. Love me, dear one, love me. I forget my
+knowledge, I reject my doubts, I become again as simple and as humble
+as a communicant of a radiant kingdom, like my dear children--and I
+only want your nearness and your kisses. Upon the earth, dear to our
+heart, I will pass by, in simple and joyous humility, with bare feet,
+like you--in order that I may come to you as you come to me. Love me.
+
+"Your GIORGIY."
+
+There was a slight rustle behind the door. It seemed as if the whole
+house were filled with the quiet children.
+
+Trirodov sealed the letter. He wished to take it at once and leave it
+on the sill of her open window. He walked quietly, immersed in the
+wood's darkness--and his feet felt the contact of warm moss, the
+dew-wet grass, and the simple, rough, beloved earth. A refreshing
+breeze blew from the river in the night coolness, but now and then
+there came a sickly, pungent gust of the forest fire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Elisaveta could not fall asleep. She rose from her bed. She stood by
+the window, and yielded her naked body to the transparent embraces of
+the nocturnal breeze. She thought of something, mused of something.
+And all her thoughts and musings joined in one dancing circle around
+Trirodov.
+
+Should she wait? He was a weary, sad man, and he would not say the
+sweet words for fear of appearing ridiculous, and of receiving a cold
+answer.
+
+"Why should I wait?" she thought. "Or don't I dare decide my fate like
+a queen, to call him to me, and to demand his love? Why should I
+remain silent?"
+
+And she decided:
+
+"I will tell him myself--I love you, I love you, come to me, love me."
+
+Elisaveta whispered the delicious words, entrusting her passionate
+reveries to the nocturnal silence. The dark eyes of the nocturnal
+guest who brought tempting reveries were aflame. The quiet splashing
+laughter of the water-nymph behind the reeds under the moon mingled
+with the quiet, delicious laughter of the nocturnal enchantress who
+had flaming eyes, burning lips, and a naked body formed from the coils
+of white flame. Her flaming body was like Elisaveta's body, and the
+black lightnings of the invisible sorceress were like the blue
+lightnings of Elisaveta's eyes. She tempted Elisaveta, and called to
+her:
+
+"Go to him, go. Fall naked at his feet, kiss his feet, laugh for him,
+dance for him, tire yourself out for his sake, be a slave to him, be a
+thing in his hands--cling to him, and kiss him, and look into his
+eyes, and yield yourself up to him. Go, go, hurry, run, he is
+approaching even now--do you see him? It is he who has just come out
+of the wood--do you see? It is his feet that show white in the grass.
+Fling the door wide open and run as you are to meet him."
+
+Elisaveta saw Trirodov coming. Her heart began to beat with such pain
+and such delight. She walked away from the window. She waited. She
+heard his footsteps on the sand under the window. Something flashed
+through the window and fell on the floor. The footsteps retreated.
+
+Elisaveta picked up the letter, lit a candle, and read the beloved
+blue sheet of paper. The nocturnal enchantress whispered to her:
+
+"He's going away. Hurry. You will know how sweet are the first kisses
+of love. Go to him, run after him, don't look for tiresome robes."
+
+Elisaveta impetuously flung the door open on the veranda, and ran down
+the broad steps into the garden. She ran after Trirodov and shouted:
+
+"Giorgiy!"
+
+It was like the outcry of passionate desire. Trirodov paused, saw her,
+impetuously white and clear in the moonlight. Elisaveta fell into his
+arms and kissed him and laughed, and kept on repeating without end:
+
+"I love you, I love you, I love you."
+
+And they kissed, and they laughed, and said something to one another.
+The red and white roses of her strong, graceful body were chaste and
+uncrumpled. The words they said to one another were chaste and sacred.
+The chaste moon looked down on them, and the stars also, as they spoke
+the words that bound them to one another. There were vows and rites
+not less durable than any other kind. There were smiles, kisses,
+tender words--in these consist the eternal rite and the eternal
+mystery.
+
+The sky began to lighten and a new dew fell on a new dawn, and when
+the sunrise had extended its rapturous flames the sun rose--only then
+they parted.
+
+Elisaveta returned to her room. But she could not sleep. She went into
+Elena's room. Elena had only just awakened. Elisaveta lay down at her
+side under the bed-cover, and told her about her great love, her great
+joy. Elena rejoiced and laughed and kissed her sister without end.
+
+Then Elisaveta put on her morning dress, and went to her father--to
+tell him about her joy, her happiness.
+
+As for Trirodov, oppressed by morning fatigue, he walked home across
+the moist grass--and his soul was filled with perplexity and dread.
+
+Later in the day he drove to the Rameyevs. He brought as a gift to
+Elisaveta a photograph he had taken of his first wife--upon her nude
+body was a bronze belt, its ends coming down to the knees being joined
+up in the front; upon her dark hair was a narrow round strip of gold.
+A slender, graceful body--a melancholy smile--intense dark eyes.
+
+"Father knows," said Elisaveta. "Father is glad. Let us go to him."
+
+When Elisaveta and Trirodov were once more alone, a dark thought came
+into Elisaveta's mind. She became pensively sad, and asked:
+
+"What of the sleeper in the grave?"
+
+"He has awakened," replied Trirodov. "He's in my house. We've dug up
+his grave just in time to save his mother from having any qualms of
+conscience."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Trirodov explained:
+
+"Early this morning the coroner had the grave dug up. They found the
+empty coffin. Luckily, I found out about this in time, before new
+stupid talk might arise, and gave them the necessary explanation."
+
+"What of the boy?" asked Elisaveta.
+
+"He will remain with me. He does not wish to go to his mother, and he
+is not particularly necessary to her--she will receive money for him."
+
+Trirodov said all this in a dry, cold voice.
+
+The news that Elisaveta would become Trirodov's wife acted differently
+on her relatives. Rameyev liked Trirodov, and was glad because of the
+closer connexion; he was a little sorry for Piotr, but thought it was
+well that the matter had come to a decision, and Piotr would no longer
+torment himself by entertaining false hopes. Nevertheless Rameyev was
+disturbed for some unknown reason.
+
+Elena loved Elisaveta and shared her joy. She loved Piotr, and was,
+therefore, even more glad; she pitied him--and, therefore, loved him
+even more. She loved him so deeply, and entertained such hopes of his
+love, that her pity for him became serene and radiant. She looked at
+Piotr with loving eyes.
+
+Piotr was in a state of despair. But Elena's eyes aroused in him a
+sweet agitation for a new love. His wearied heart thirsted, and
+suffered intensely from deceived hopes.
+
+Misha was strangely distraught. He flushed, and ran off more than
+usual with his fishing-rod to the river; there he wept. Now he
+impetuously embraced Elisaveta, now Trirodov. He felt ashamed and
+bitter. He knew that Elisaveta did not even suspect his love, and that
+she looked at him as at an infant. Sometimes in his helplessness he
+hated her. He said to Piotr:
+
+"I shouldn't walk about with a long face if I were you. She is not
+worthy of your love. She puts on airs. Elena is much better. Elena is
+a dear, while the other fancies all sorts of things."
+
+Piotr walked away from him in silence. And it was well that there was
+some one who did not scold, and with whom it was possible to ease his
+soul. Misha, too, wanted to be with Elisaveta, and it made him feel
+ashamed and depressed.
+
+Miss Harrison did not express her opinion. Many things had already
+shocked her, and she grew accustomed to bear herself indifferently to
+everything that happened here. Trirodov, in her opinion, was an
+adventurer, a man with a doubtful reputation, and a dark past.
+
+Elisaveta was the most tranquil of all.
+
+Piotr's gloomy appearance disturbed Rameyev. He wanted to comfort him
+if only with words. Luckily, people believe even in words! They must
+believe in something.
+
+Rameyev and Piotr happened to find themselves alone. Rameyev said:
+
+"I must confess that I once thought Elisaveta loved you. Or that she
+might love you, if you wished it strongly."
+
+Piotr said with a gloomy smile:
+
+"I too may be pardoned for the error. All the more since M. Trirodov
+does not lack lovers."
+
+"Any one may be pardoned for mistakes," answered Rameyev calmly,
+"though they may be painful enough sometimes."
+
+Piotr grumbled something. Rameyev continued:
+
+"I have been observing Elisaveta very attentively of late. And listen
+to what I say--pardon me for my frankness--I have come to the
+conclusion that you'd be better off with Elena. Perhaps you have also
+erred in your feelings."
+
+Piotr replied with a bitter smile:
+
+"Why, of course--Elena is more simple. She doesn't read philosophic
+books, she doesn't wear over-classical frocks; and doesn't detest any
+one."
+
+"Why drag self-love into everything?" asked Rameyev. "Elena is not as
+simple as you think. She is a very intelligent girl, though without
+pretensions to a deep and broad outlook--and she is good, attractive,
+and cheerful."
+
+"In fact, quite a match for me," observed Piotr with an ironic smile.
+
+"As for that," said Rameyev, "you are not limited to choosing a
+charming wife from among my daughters."
+
+"That's not so easy," said Piotr with dejected irony. "But I see no
+need of insisting. Besides, the same thing might happen with Elena.
+She might come across a more brilliant match. And there are not a few
+charlatans in this world of the Trirodov brand."
+
+"Elena loves you," said Rameyev. "Surely you have noticed it?"
+
+Piotr laughed. He assumed a gaiety--or did he actually feel gay and
+joyous at the sudden thought of the charming Elena? Of course she
+loved him! But he asked:
+
+"Why do you think, my dear uncle, that I need a wife at all costs? May
+God be with her!"
+
+"You are in love generally, as is common in your years," said Rameyev.
+
+"Perhaps," said Piotr, "but Elisaveta's choice revolts me."
+
+"Why should it?" asked Rameyev.
+
+"For many reasons," replied Piotr. "For one thing, he presented her
+with a photograph of his dead wife, a naked beauty. Why? Is it right
+to make universal that which is intimate?[27] She revealed her body to
+her husband, and not for Elisaveta and for us."
+
+"You would do away with many fine pictures if you had your way," said
+Rameyev.
+
+"I am not so simple as not to be able to make a distinction," replied
+Piotr animatedly. "In the one case it is pure art, always sacred; in
+the other there is an effort to inflame the feelings with pornographic
+pictures. And don't you notice it yourself, uncle, that Elisaveta has
+poisoned herself with this sweet poison, and has become terribly
+passionate and insufficiently modest?"
+
+"I do not find this at all," said Rameyev dryly.
+
+"She is in love--so what's to be done? If there is sensuality in
+people, what is to be done with nature? Shall the whole world be
+maimed in order to gratify a decrepit morality?"
+
+"Uncle, I did not suspect you of being such an amoralist," said Piotr
+in vexation.
+
+"There is morality and morality," replied Rameyev, not without some
+confusion. "I do not uphold depravity, but nevertheless demand freedom
+of thought and feeling. A free feeling is always innocent."
+
+"And what will you say of those naked girls in his woods--is that also
+innocent?" asked Piotr rather spitefully.
+
+"Of course," replied Rameyev. "His problem is to lull to sleep the
+beast in man, and to awaken the man."
+
+"I have heard his discourses," said Piotr, showing his annoyance, "and
+I do not believe them in the slightest. I'm only astonished that
+others can believe such nonsense. And I don't believe either in his
+poetry or in his chemistry. He has too many secrets and mysteries, too
+many cunning mechanisms in his doors and his corridors. Then there are
+his quiet children--that I do not understand at all. Where have they
+come from? What does he do with them? There is something nasty behind
+it all."
+
+"That's a work of the imagination," answered Rameyev. "We see him
+often, we can always go to him, and we haven't seen or heard anything
+in his house or in his colony to confirm the town tattle about him."
+
+Piotr recalled the evening that he met Trirodov on the river-bank. His
+sad but determined eyes suddenly flared up in Piotr's memory--and the
+poison of his spite grew weaker. He seemed affected as by a strange
+bewitchment, as if some one persistently yet quietly urged him to
+believe that the ways of Trirodov were fair and clean. Piotr closed
+his eyes--and the radiant vision appeared before him of the semi-nude
+girls of the wood, who filed past him, and sanctified him by the
+serenity and the peace of their chaste eyes. Piotr sighed and said
+quietly, as if fatigued:
+
+"I have no cause to say these malicious words. Perhaps you are right.
+But it is so hard for me!"
+
+Nevertheless this conversation did much to soothe Piotr. Thoughts
+about Elena returned to him oftener and oftener, and became more and
+more tender.
+
+It so happened that, acting upon some unspoken yet understood
+agreement, every one tried to direct Piotr's attention to Elena. Piotr
+submitted to this general influence, and was affectionate and gentle
+with Elena. Elena expectantly waited for his love; and at night,
+turning her blazing face and loosened locks in the direction of the
+nymph's laughter, she would whisper:
+
+"I love you, I love you, I love you!"
+
+And when left alone with Piotr, she would look at him with
+love-frightened eyes, all rosy like the spring, and pulsating with
+expectancy; and with every sigh of her tender breast, and with all the
+life of her passionate body she would repeat the same unspoken words:
+"I love you, I love you, I love you." And Piotr began to understand
+that he had met his fate in Elena, and that whether he willed it or
+not he would grow to love her. This presentiment of a new love was
+like a sweet gnawing in a heart wounded by treacherous love.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+The local police department was not very skilful in tracking down
+thieves and murderers. And it did not occupy itself much with this
+ungrateful business. It had other things to think of in those
+turbulent days. Instead, it turned its ill-disposed attention to
+Trirodov's educational colony--thanks to the efforts of Ostrov and his
+friends and patrons.
+
+The neighbourhood of Trirodov's estate began to teem with detectives.
+They assumed various guises, and though they employed all their
+cunning to escape observation they did not succeed in fooling any one.
+Of limited intelligence, they fulfilled their duties without
+inspiration, tediously, greyly, and dully.
+
+Soon the children learned to recognize the detectives. Even at a
+distance they would say at the sight of a suspicious character:
+
+"There goes a detective!"
+
+Upon seeing him again they would say:
+
+"There goes our detective!"
+
+Of the uniformed police the first to make inquiries at Trirodov's
+colony was a sergeant. He was fairly drunk It happened on the same day
+that Egorka returned home to his mother.
+
+The sergeant entered the outer courtyard, the gates of which happened
+to have been left open by chance. A strong smell of vodka came from
+him. With the suspicious eye of an inexperienced spy he examined the
+barns, the ice-cellar, and the kitchen. He wondered stupidly at the
+cleanliness of the yard and the tidiness of the new buildings.
+
+The sergeant was about to enter the kitchen in order to talk with some
+one about the business on which he had been sent, when quite suddenly
+he saw a young girl, one of the instructresses, Zinaida. She walked
+without haste in the yard, in a white-blue costume that reached to her
+knees. Zinaida had a cheerful, simple, sunburnt face. Her strong, bare
+arms swung lightly as she walked. It seemed as if the graceful girl
+were carried upon the earth without visible effort.
+
+The chaste openness of her chaste body naturally aroused hideous
+thoughts in the half-drunken idiot. And was it possible to be
+otherwise in our dark days? Even in the tale of a poet in love with
+beauty, the nudity of a chaste body calls out the judgment of
+hypocrites and the rage of people with perverted imaginations, as if
+it were the arrogant nudity of a prostitute. The austere virtue of
+these people is attached to them externally. It cannot withstand any
+kind of temptation or enticement. They know this, and cautiously guard
+themselves from seduction. But in secret they console their miserable
+imaginations with unclean pictures of back-street lewdness, cheap, and
+regulated, and almost undangerous for their health and the welfare of
+their families.
+
+The police sergeant, upon seeing the young girl, so lightly dressed,
+gave a lewd smile. His unclean desire stirred in his coarse body under
+its slovenly sweaty dress. He beckoned Zinaida to him with his crooked
+dirty finger and gave an idiotic laugh. He pushed his faded cap down
+to the back of his head.
+
+The young girl walked up to the police sergeant with a light easy
+gait. Thus walk queens of beloved free lands, barefoot virgins crowned
+with white flowers, queens of lands of which our too Parisian age does
+not know.
+
+The police sergeant whiffed his shag, vodka, and garlic at Zinaida,
+and smiling lasciviously, so that the green and the yellow of his
+crooked teeth showed conspicuously, he said:
+
+"Look-a-here, my pretty girl--d'ye live here?"
+
+Zinaida ingenuously marvelled at his red, dirty hands, at his red,
+provokingly perspiring face, his big, heavy, mud-bedraggled boots, and
+all those external tokens of the deformity of our poor, coarse life.
+They so quickly became unused to this deformity here in the valley of
+their beloved, innocent, tranquil life.
+
+Zinaida replied with an involuntary smile:
+
+"Yes, I live here in this colony."
+
+The police sergeant asked:
+
+"Are you the cook? Or the laundress? What a nice piece of sugar-candy
+you are!"
+
+He burst into a shrill, neighing laugh, and was about to begin his
+offensively affectionate tactics--he lifted his open, tawny hand, and
+aimed his forefinger with a black border on a thick yellow finger-nail
+towards a place where he might jab, pinch, or tickle the barefoot,
+bare-armed girl. But Zinaida, smiling and frowning at the same time,
+edged away from him and answered:
+
+"I'm an instructress in this school--Zinaida Ouzlova."
+
+The sergeant drawled out:
+
+"An instructress! You are fibbing!"
+
+He did not believe at first that she was an instructress. He thought
+that she was the cook, or the washerwoman, who had tucked up her dress
+in order to wash, scour, or cook more conveniently; and that she was
+joking with him. But after he had scrutinized her face more intently,
+a face such as a cook does not have, and her hands, such as a
+washerwoman does not have--he suddenly believed.
+
+With astonishment and curiosity Zinaida eyed this strange, coarse,
+offensively affectionate creature with the heavy sabre in a black
+sheath dangling about his legs, and asked:
+
+"And who are you?"
+
+The sergeant replied with a very important air:
+
+"I am the local police sergeant."
+
+He tried to look dignified.
+
+"What is it you want here?" asked Zinaida.
+
+The sergeant turned to her with a wink and asked:
+
+"Now tell me, my beauty, have you a runaway boy from town here? His
+mother is looking for him, and she's notified the police. If he's here
+with you, we've got to return him to town."
+
+"Yes," said Zinaida. "A town boy did spend a week with us here. We
+sent him home only to-day. He's very likely with his mother now."
+
+The sergeant smiled incredulously, and asked:
+
+"You're not fibbing?"
+
+Zinaida shrugged her shoulders. She looked sternly at the man, and
+said in astonishment:
+
+"What are you saying? How is it possible to tell an untruth? And why
+should I tell you an untruth?"
+
+"How is one to tell?" growled the sergeant. "Once I begin to believe
+you there are lots of things you might say."
+
+"I've told you the truth," asserted Zinaida once more.
+
+"Well, just be careful," said the sergeant with dignity. "We'll find
+out all the same. You are sure you've returned him home?"
+
+"Yes, home to his mother," replied Zinaida.
+
+"Very well, I shall report that to the Captain of the police." He told
+a lie for dignity's sake. It was the Commissary of the police who sent
+him here, and not the Captain. But it was all the same to Zinaida. She
+had got quite accustomed to thinking mostly about the children and her
+work. The stern reference to the police authorities did not impress
+her very much.
+
+The police sergeant left. He kept up his broad smile. He looked back
+several times at the instructress. He was gay and flustered all the
+way to town. His thoughts were coarse and detestable. Such are the
+thoughts of the savages who take shelter in the grey expanses of our
+towns--savages who hide under all sorts of masks, and who strut about
+in all sorts of clothes.
+
+Zinaida looked sadly after the police sergeant. Coarse recollections
+of former days revived in her soul, now full of delicious soothings of
+a different, blessed existence created by Trirodov in the quiet
+coolness of the beloved wood. Then Zinaida sighed as if awakened from
+a midday nightmare. She went quietly her own way.
+
+In the course of several days Trirodov's colony was visited by the
+Commissary of the police. He comprehended and considered the chaste
+world of the Prosianiya Meadows in the same way as the illiterate
+sergeant. Only this consideration expressed itself in a milder form.
+
+The Commissary of the police tried to be very amiable. He paid awkward
+compliments to Trirodov and his instructresses. But when he looked at
+the instructresses the Commissary smiled as detestably as the
+sergeant. His small, narrow eyes, which resembled those of a Kalmyk,
+became oily with pleasure. His cheeks became covered with a brick-red
+ruddiness.
+
+When the girls walked off to one side he gave a wink at Trirodov in
+their direction, and said in a _sotto voce_:
+
+"A flower garden, eh?"
+
+Trirodov looked severely at the Commissary, who became flustered and
+rather angry. He said:
+
+"I have come to you, I'm sorry to say, on unpleasant business."
+
+Indeed, he came under the pretext of discussing the arrangements of
+Egorka's position. Incidentally, he hinted that the illegal opening of
+Egorka's grave might give cause to an official investigation. Trirodov
+gave the Commissary a bribe and treated him to lunch. The Commissary
+of the police left in high spirits.
+
+At last Trirodov had a visit from the Captain of the police. He had a
+gloomy, inaccessible look. He began quite bluntly about the illegal
+digging up of Egorka's grave. Trirodov said:
+
+"Surely it was impossible to leave a live boy to suffocate in a
+grave."
+
+The Captain replied in a rather austere voice:
+
+"You should have notified the Prior of the cemetery church of your
+suspicions. He would have done all there was to be done."
+
+"But think how much time would have been lost in going after the
+priest," said Trirodov.
+
+The Captain, without listening, replied:
+
+"It's irregular. What would become of us if every one should take it
+into his head to open up graves! A chap might do it to steal
+something, and when he's caught he might say that he's heard the
+corpse was alive and turning in its grave."
+
+"You know very well," retorted Trirodov, "that we didn't go there with
+the object of robbery."
+
+But the Captain reiterated harshly and sternly:
+
+"It's irregular."
+
+Trirodov invited the Captain to dinner. The Captain's bribe was, of
+course, considerably larger than the Commissary's. After a sumptuous
+dinner and drinks, and the bribe, the Captain suddenly became softer
+than wax. He began to dwell on the difficulties and annoyances of his
+position. Then Trirodov mentioned the search that had been made
+lately, and the beating the instructress Maria received at the police
+station. The Captain flushed with embarrassment and said with some
+warmth:
+
+"Upon my honour, it didn't depend upon me. I must follow orders. Our
+new Vice-Governor--forgive the expression--is a regular butcher.
+That's how he's made his career."
+
+"Is it possible to make one's career by such means?" asked Trirodov.
+
+The Captain spoke animatedly--and it was evident that the career of
+the new Vice-Governor agitated his official heart considerably.
+
+"The facts must be familiar to you," he said. "He killed his friend
+when he was drunk, was confined in a lunatic asylum, and how he ever
+got out is beyond comprehension. With the help of patronage he was
+given a position in the District Government and showed himself to be
+such an asp that every one marvelled. He quickly galloped into a
+councillorship. He subdued the peasants. Of course you must have heard
+about it?"
+
+"Who hasn't heard about it?" asked Trirodov quietly.
+
+"The newspapers have certainly published enough about him," the
+Captain continued. "Sometimes they added a trifle, but this was to his
+good. It turned every one's attention to him. He was made
+Vice-Governor, and now he has redoubled his efforts, and is trying to
+distinguish himself further. He has an eye on the governorship. He is
+sure to go a long way. Our own Governor is on his guard on his
+account. I need not tell you what a powerful arm our Governor has in
+Petersburg. Nevertheless he can't decide to thwart Ardalyon
+Borisovitch.[28]"
+
+"And yet in spite of that you...."
+
+"Do please consider what a time we are living in," said the Captain.
+"There never was anything like it. There is such an unrest among the
+peasants that may God have mercy on us. Only the other day they played
+the deuce on Khavriukin's farm. They carried away everything that
+could be carried away. The muzhiks even took away all the live stock.
+A pitiful case. Khavriukin is considered among the better masters in
+our government. He held the peasants in the palm of his hand. And now
+they've paid him back!"
+
+"Howsoever it may have happened," said Trirodov, "still you did whip
+my instructress. That was rather shocking."
+
+"Please!" exclaimed the Captain. "I will personally ask her pardon.
+Like an honest man."
+
+Trirodov sent for Maria. Maria came. The Captain of the police poured
+out his apologies before her, and covered her sunburnt hands with
+kisses. Maria was silent. Her face was pale, and her eyes were aflame
+with anger.
+
+The Captain thought cautiously:
+
+"Such a woman would not stop at murder."
+
+He made haste to take his leave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+The educational police also conferred its presence on Trirodov's
+school in the person of the Inspector of the National Schools.
+
+The local Inspector of the National Schools, Leonty Andreyevitch
+Shabalov, had served all his life in remote, wooded places, and was
+for that reason quite an uncivilized being. Tall, robust, shaggy,
+unharmonious, he resembled even in external appearance a bear of
+Vologda or Olonetz. His face was overgrown with a thick beard. His
+thick hair crept down his low forehead towards his eyebrows. His back
+was broad and somewhat stooped, like a huge trough.
+
+Shabalov frequently said to the instructors and instructresses in his
+district in a hoarse drawl:
+
+"Batenka[29] (or "golubushka"[30] if it happened to be an
+instructress), brilliant instructors are not necessary. I don't like
+clever men and women, I'm no respecter of modern ladies and dandies.
+The chief thing, batenka, in life and in service, is not to put on
+airs. In my opinion, batenka, if you perform your State obligations
+and conduct yourself peacefully you will find yourself well off. The
+educational programme has been worked out by people not more stupid
+than you and me, so that you and I needn't spend our time
+philosophizing about programmes. That's what I think, batenka!"
+
+But, notwithstanding all his respect for educational programmes,
+Shabalov knew the educational business badly. It would be truer to say
+that he did not know it at all. He was hardly interested in it. He was
+not even very literate. He received his inspector's position as a
+reward for his piety, patriotism, and correct mode of thinking, rather
+than for his labours in the interest of public instruction. He had
+served in his youth as a class assistant in the gymnasia. There, by a
+steady attendance at the gymnasia chapel and the reading of the
+apostles in a stentorian voice, he turned upon himself the attention
+of an old bigot of a general's wife. She procured him the inspector's
+position.
+
+There was no way in which he could help the young and
+little-experienced instructors. When he visited the schools he limited
+himself to a superficial examination and gave the pupils several
+stupid questions, mostly on matters of piety, of "love towards the
+Fatherland and national pride."[31]
+
+Above all, Shabalov loved to collect rumours and gossip. He did this
+with great ability and zeal. Every one knew this weakness of his.
+Consequently there were many eager to gossip and to inform against
+some one. There were even a number of informers among the instructors
+and instructresses who wished to gain favour and promotion. Once it
+was reported to Shabalov that teachers of both sexes in some of the
+neighbouring schools had gathered one holiday eve in one of the
+schools and sang songs there. He immediately sent them all a
+notification composed as follows:
+
+  The School District of Rouban.
+
+  No. 2187
+  Skorodozh,
+  16_th of September_, 1904.
+
+Inspector of the National Schools of the first
+  section of the Skorodozh Government. To
+  Instructor of the Vikhliaevsky one-class
+  rural school, Ksenofont Polupavlov:
+
+  "Dear Sir, It has come to my knowledge
+  that on the evening of the 7th of September you
+  participated at a meeting of instructors and
+  instructresses, which had been arranged without
+  the necessary permit, and that you sang there
+  with them songs of a worldly and reprehensible
+  character. Therefore, dear sir, I beg you in
+  the future not to permit yourself similar actions
+  unbecoming to your schoolmaster's vocation,
+  and I herewith warn you that at a repetition of
+  such behaviour you will be immediately discharged
+  from the service.
+
+  "Inspector Shabalov."
+
+On another occasion he wrote to the same instructor:
+
+  "On the occasion of an inspection of the schools
+  of the section intrusted to me, a number of instructors
+  and instructresses, and you, dear sir,
+  among that number, have transgressed the limits
+  of the programme ratified for Primary Schools
+  by the authorities, in imparting to your pupils
+  facts from history and geography unnecessary to
+  the people; and therefore, in confirmation of
+  certain verbal instructions I have already made
+  to you in person, I beg you in the future to
+  maintain strictly the established programmes;
+  and I warn you that if you fail to comply you
+  will be discharged from the service."
+
+Shabalov was particularly displeased with the participation of certain
+instructors and instructresses in the local pedagogical circle. This
+circle was initiated in the town of Skorodozh some three years before
+by the gymnasia instructor Bodeyev and the town school instructor
+Voronok. The circle discussed various questions of upbringing,
+instruction, and school affairs generally which interested in those
+years many teachers and parents. Some of the members read their
+reports here. It was particularly provoking to Shabalov that these
+reports occasionally recounted certain episodes in school life and
+eccentricities of the educational authorities. Shabalov wanted to
+discharge the audacious ones. The District School Council did not
+agree with him. Then followed a long and unpleasant discussion, out of
+which Shabalov did not issue as conqueror.
+
+Trirodov found it painful and difficult to talk with Shabalov.
+
+Shabalov said in a slow, creaking voice:
+
+"Giorgiy Sergeyevitch, you will have to send your wards to town for
+examination."
+
+"Why is it necessary?" asked Trirodov.
+
+Shabalov laughed his creaking "he-he" laugh and said:
+
+"Well, it's necessary. We'll give them certificates."
+
+"What's the use of your certificates to them?" asked Trirodov. "They
+need knowledge and not certificates. Your certificates won't feed
+their hunger."
+
+"The certificates are necessary for military service," explained
+Shabalov.
+
+"They will remain pupils here," said Trirodov, "until they are ready
+for practical work or for scientific and artistic occupations. Then
+some of them will go to technical schools, others to universities.
+Why, then, should they have certificates for a course in a Primary
+School?"
+
+Shabalov repeated dully and stubbornly:
+
+"Things are not done that way. Your school is counted among the
+Primary Schools. Those who have completed the course should receive
+certificates. How else can it be?--judge for yourself! And if you wish
+to go beyond the primary course, then you'll have to procure for
+yourself a private gymnasia or a professional school, or, if you like,
+a commercial one. But what you want is impossible. And, of course,
+you'd have to engage real teachers in place of your cheap barefoots."
+
+"My barefoots," retorted Trirodov, "have the same diplomas and
+learning as the real teachers, to use your expression. It is strange
+that you do not know or realize that fact. And they receive such ample
+pay from me that I should hesitate to call them cheap. Generally
+speaking, it seems to me that in its relation to private schools the
+so-called educational council would do well to limit itself to an
+external police surveillance of a purely negative character. They
+should merely see whether we commit anything of a criminal nature. But
+what business have you with the direction of schools? You have so few
+schools of your own, and yet they are so poor that you have quite a
+time to attend to them."
+
+Shabalov, somewhat subdued, replied:
+
+"Still, the examination will have to be held. Surely you understand
+that? And the Headmaster of the National Schools is anxious to be
+present at the examination. We have our instructions from the
+Ministry, and it is impossible to discuss the matter. Our business is
+to execute orders."
+
+"Come here yourselves if it is absolutely necessary to hold an
+examination," said Trirodov coldly.
+
+"Very well," said Shabalov upon reflection. "I will report your wish
+to the Headmaster of the National Schools. I don't know how he will
+look upon the matter, but I will make my report."
+
+Then he reflected again briefly. He rubbed his back, covered by its
+blue official frock, against the back of his chair--the greasy, faded
+cloth against the handsome dark-green leather--and said:
+
+"If the Headmaster agrees to it, we will appoint the day and send you
+the notification, that you may expect us."
+
+In the course of a few days Shabalov sent the announcement that the
+examination in Trirodov's school was appointed to be held on May 30,
+at ten o'clock in the morning, on the premises.
+
+This meddling on the part of the educational police annoyed Trirodov,
+but he had to submit to it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+Kirsha was acquainted with many boys in town. Some of them were pupils
+of the gymnasia, some of the town school. Kirsha was also acquainted
+with some of the students who attended the girls' gymnasia. He told
+his father a great deal about the affairs and ways of these
+institutions. His information contained much that was singular and
+unexpected.
+
+The personality of the Headmaster of the National Schools, Doulebov,
+particularly interested Trirodov of late. The schools under his
+guidance included the school established by Trirodov, though Doulebov
+contributed nothing to the school. He conducted himself with complete
+indifference to the aspersions cast at Priest Zakrasin and did not
+defend him before the Diocesan Bishop. He and his subordinate, the
+Inspector, showered official papers upon Trirodov and demanded various
+reports in the established form, so that Trirodov had to prevail upon
+a small official of the Exchequer to come evenings and copy out all
+this absurd nonsense. But neither Doulebov nor Shabalov looked in even
+once into Trirodov's school. When Trirodov happened to be in the
+Headmaster's office the conversation usually turned on documents
+concerning the instructresses and various petty formalities.
+
+The calumnies of Ostrov and of his friends in the Black Hundred
+disturbed Doulebov. To avoid unpleasantness Doulebov decided to take
+advantage of the first opportunity to close Trirodov's school.
+
+The Headmaster of the National Schools, Actual State Councillor,
+Grigory Vladimirovitch Doulebov, had his eye on a higher position in
+the educational department. That was why he tried to gain favour by
+showing a meticulous attentiveness to his duties. His perseverance was
+astonishing. He never gave an impression of haste. His reception of
+subordinates and petitioners, announced on a placard on his door to
+take place on Thursdays between one and three, actually began at
+eleven in the morning, and continued until late in the evening.
+Doulebov spoke with each visitor slowly and showed his interest in the
+slightest detail.
+
+But Doulebov, of course, knew very well that however great was his
+attentiveness to his duties, that in itself would not take him very
+far. It was indispensable to cultivate the proper personages. Doulebov
+had no influential aunts and grandmothers, and he had to make efforts
+on his own behalf. And in the whole course of his twenty-five years'
+service, beginning as a gymnasia instructor, Doulebov uninterruptedly
+and skilfully concerned himself with establishing improved relations
+with all who were higher in rank than he or equal with him. He even
+made an effort to keep on good terms with the younger set--that was
+for an emergency; for--who can tell?--the younger sometimes go ahead
+of the old, and, being young, they might do one an injury--or a good
+service--when the opportunity offered.
+
+Never to commit an untactful action--in that consisted the chief
+precept of Doubelov's life. He knew very well that this or that action
+was not good in itself, and that the chief thing was "how they would
+look upon it"--they, that is, the authorities. The authorities were
+favourably inclined towards Doulebov. He had already been almost
+promised an assistantship to the head of the Educational District.
+
+Doulebov adopted an attitude towards his subordinates consistent with
+this personal attitude. To those who acted respectfully towards him
+and his wife he gave his patronage and made efforts to improve their
+position. He defended them in unpleasant situations, though very
+cautiously, in order not to hurt his own position. He was not very
+fond of those who were disrespectful and independent, and he hindered
+them all he could.
+
+Recognizing a rising luminary in the newly appointed Vice-Governor,
+who lately had been a Councillor in the District Government, Doulebov
+tried to come into agreeable relations with him also. But he conducted
+himself towards him very cautiously, so that he might not be suspected
+of too intimate relations with this evil, morose, badly trained man
+and his vulgar wife.
+
+Doulebov had pleasant manners, a youngish face, and a slender voice
+which resembled the squeal of a young pig. He was light and agile in
+his movements. No one had ever seen him drunk, and as a visitor he
+either did not drink at all or limited himself to a glass of Madeira.
+He was always accompanied by his wife. It was said that she managed
+all his affairs, and that Doulebov obeyed her implicitly in
+everything.
+
+The wife of the Headmaster, Zinaida Grigorievna, was a plump,
+energetic, and shrewish woman. Her short hair was beginning to get
+grey. She was very jealous of her influence and maintained it with
+great energy.
+
+At Doulebov's invitation the Vice-Governor visited the town school. In
+inviting the Vice-Governor Doulebov had especially in view the idea of
+taking him to the Trirodov school. In the event of the school being
+closed, he wanted to say that it was done at the instigation of the
+governmental authorities. But Doulebov did not wish to invite the
+Vice-Governor direct to Trirodov's school, so as to give no one any
+reason for saying that he did it on purpose. That was why he persuaded
+the Vice-Governor to come to the examination at the town school on the
+eve of the day appointed for the examinations at the Trirodov school.
+
+The town school was situated in one of the dirty side streets. Its
+exterior was highly unattractive. The dirty, dilapidated wooden
+structure seemed as if it were built for a tavern rather than for a
+school. This did not prevent Doulebov from saying to the inspector of
+the school:
+
+"The new Vice-Governor will visit you to-day. I invited him to you
+because you have such a fine school."
+
+Inspector Poterin, fawning before Doulebov and his wife, said in a
+flustered way:
+
+"Our building is anything but showy."
+
+Doulebov smiled amiably and replied encouragingly:
+
+"The building is not the important thing. The school itself is good.
+The instruction is to be valued and not the walls."
+
+The Vice-Governor arrived rather late, at eleven, together with
+Zherbenev, who was an honorary overseer of the school.
+
+There was a very tense feeling in the school. The instructors and the
+students alike trembled before the authorities. Stupid and vulgar
+scenes with the Headmaster in the town school were common with
+Doulebov and did not embarrass him. As for Doulebov and his wife, they
+were fully alive to their importance. They had received only two or
+three days before definite news of the appointment of Doulebov as
+assistant to the head of the Educational Department.
+
+Inspector Shabalov arrived at the school very early that day. He
+occupied himself with attentions to Zinaida Grigorievna Doulebova, to
+whom he showed various services with an unexpected and rather vulgar
+amiableness.
+
+The instructor-inspector, Mikhail Prokopievitch Poterin, conducted
+himself like a lackey. It was even evident at times that he trembled
+before the Doulebovs. What reason had he to be afraid? He was a great
+patriot--a member of the Black Hundred. He accepted bribes, beat his
+pupils, drank considerably--and he always got off easily.
+
+Zinaida Grigorievna Doulebova examined the graduating classes in
+French and English. These studies were optional. Inspector Poterin's
+wife gave instruction in French. She had not yet fully mastered the
+Berlitz method, and looked at the Doulebovs cringingly. But at heart
+she was bitter--at her poverty, abjectness, and dependence.
+
+Poterin knew no languages; but he was also present here, and hissed
+malignantly at those who answered awkwardly or did not answer at all:
+
+"Blockhead! Numskull!"
+
+Doulebova sat motionless and made no sign that she heard this zealous
+hissing and these coarse words. She would give freedom to her tongue
+later, at luncheon.
+
+A luncheon had been prepared for the visitors and the instructors. It
+cost Poterin's wife much trouble and anxiety. The table was set in the
+large room, where on ordinary days the small boys made lively and
+wrangled in recess-time. They were excluded on this day, and raised a
+racket outside.
+
+Doulebova sat at the head of the table, between the Vice-Governor and
+Zherbenev; Doulebov sat next to the Vice-Governor. A pie was brought
+in; then tea. Zinaida Grigorievna abused the instructors' wives and
+the instructresses. She loved gossip--indeed, who does not? The
+instructors' wives gossiped to her.
+
+During the luncheon the small boys, having resumed their places in the
+neighbouring class, sang:
+
+  _What songs, what songs,
+  Our Russia does sing.
+  Do what you like--though you burst,
+  Frenchman, you'll never sing like that_.
+
+
+And other songs in the same spirit.
+
+Doulebov wiped his face with his right hand--like a cat licking its
+paw--and piped out:
+
+"I hear that the Marquis Teliatnikov is to pay us a visit soon."
+
+"We are not within his jurisdiction," said Poterin.
+
+But his whole face became distorted with apprehension.
+
+"All the same," said Doulebov in his thin voice, "he possesses great
+powers. He can do what he likes."
+
+The Vice-Governor looked gloomily at Poterin and said morosely:
+
+"He's going to pull you all up."
+
+Poterin grew deathly pale and broke out into perspiration. The
+conversation about the Marquis Teliatnikov continued, and the local
+revolutionary ferment was mentioned in the course of it.
+
+Revolutionary proclamations had appeared in all the woods of the
+neighbourhood. Large pieces of bark were cut off the trees and
+proclamations pasted on. It was impossible to remove these bills,
+which were overrun by a thin, transparent coating of resin. The
+zealous preservers of order had either to chop out or to scrape off
+the obnoxious places with a knife.
+
+"I think," said Doulebova, "that it must be an idea of our chemist,
+Mr. Trirodov."
+
+"Of course." She was confirmed in her suggestion by the cringing,
+dry-looking instructress of German.
+
+Zinaida Grigorievna turned towards Poterina in order to show favour to
+her hostess by her conversation, and asked her with an amused smile:
+
+"How do you like our celebrated Decadent?"
+
+The instructress tried to understand. An expression of fear showed on
+her flat, dull face. She asked timidly:
+
+"Whom do you mean, Zinaida Grigorievna?"
+
+"Whom else could I mean but Mr. Trirodov," replied Doulebova
+malignantly.
+
+The malice was all on Trirodov's account, but nevertheless Poterina
+trembled with fear.
+
+"Ah, yes, Trirodov; how then, how then...." she repeated in a worried,
+flustered way, and was at a loss what to say.
+
+Doulebova said bitingly:
+
+"Well, I don't think he laughs very often. He ought to be to your
+taste."
+
+"To my taste!" exclaimed Poterina with a flushed face. "What are you
+saying, Zinaida Grigorievna! As the old saying goes: 'The Tsar's
+servant has been bent into a harness arch!'"
+
+"Yes, he always looks askance at you and talks to no one," said the
+wife of the instructor Krolikov; "but he is a very kind man."
+
+Doulebova turned her malignant glance upon her. Krolikova grew pale
+with fear, and guessed that she had not said the right thing. She
+corrected herself:
+
+"He is a kind man in his words."
+
+Doulebova smiled at her benevolently.
+
+"Do you know what I think?" said Zherbenev, addressing himself to
+Doulebova. "I have seen many men in my time, I may say without
+boasting; and in my opinion, it is a very bad sign that he looks
+askance at you."
+
+"Of course!" agreed Poterina. "That is the honest truth!"
+
+"Let a man look me straight in my face," went on Zherbenev. "But the
+quiet ones...."
+
+Zherbenev did not finish his sentence. Doulebova said:
+
+"Frankly, I don't like your poet. I can't understand him. There is
+something strange about him--something disagreeable."
+
+"He's altogether suspicious," said Zherbenev with the look of a person
+who knew a great deal.
+
+It was asserted that Trirodov and others were collecting money for an
+armed revolt. At this they looked significantly at Voronok. Voronok
+retorted, but he was not heard. There was an outburst of malignant
+remarks against Trirodov. It was said that there was a secret
+underground printing establishment in Trirodov's house, and that not
+only the instructresses worked there but also Trirodov's young wards.
+The women exclaimed in horror:
+
+"They are mere tots!"
+
+"What do you think of your tots now?"
+
+"There are no children nowadays."
+
+"I've just heard," said Voronok, "that a nine-year-old boy is kept in
+confinement by the police."
+
+"The young rebel!" said the Vice-Governor savagely.
+
+"Yes, and I've also heard," said Poterin, "that a thirteen-year-old
+boy has been arrested. Such a little beggar, and already in revolt."
+
+The Vice-Governor said morosely:
+
+"He's going with his grandfather to Siberia."
+
+"Why?" asked Voronok with a flushed face.
+
+"He laughed," growled the Vice-Governor morosely.
+
+Doulebov turned to Poterin and asked in a loud voice:
+
+"And I hope you have no rebels in your school."
+
+"No, thank God, I have nothing of that kind," replied Poterin. "But,
+to tell the truth, the children are very loose nowadays."
+
+Doulebov, with a patronizing amiableness, said again to him:
+
+"You have a good school. Everything is in exemplary order."
+
+Poterin grew radiant and boasted:
+
+"Yes, I know how to pull them up. I treat them sternly."
+
+"A salutary sternness," said Doulebov.
+
+Encouraged by these words, the instructor-inspector asked:
+
+"Do you think one might also beat them?"
+
+Doulebov avoided a direct answer. He wiped his face with his
+hand--like a cat using its paw--and changed the subject.
+
+They began touching recollections about the good old times. They began
+to relate how, where, and whom they birched.
+
+"They birch even now," said Shabalov with a quiet joy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+
+After luncheon they went into the assembly room. Some of them began to
+smoke. Instructor Mouralov's wife took advantage of an opportune
+moment to speak to Doulebova. She cautiously stole up to her when she
+saw her standing aside and told her that Poterin took bribes. Separate
+phrases and words were distinguished from the rest of the
+conversation.
+
+"Have you noticed, Zinaida Grigorievna?"
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Our inspector is parading in gloves."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Gloves! Yellow ones!"
+
+"What of that?"
+
+"Out of bribes."
+
+Zinaida Grigorievna was overjoyed, and grew animated. For a long time
+the whispers of the malicious women were audible, and between their
+whispers their hissing, snake-like laughter.
+
+Then the women, together with Shabalov and Voronok, went off to finish
+the examination. Doulebov and the Vice-Governor went in to look at the
+library. Poterin accompanied them. Everything was in order. The thick
+volumes of Katkov[32] quietly slumbered; the dust had been wiped from
+them on the eve of the Vice-Governor's visit.
+
+Poterin made use of an opportunity to make insinuations against the
+instructors. He reported that Voronok did not go to church, and that
+he collected schoolboys at his own house in order to read something or
+other to them.
+
+"I shall have to have a talk with him," said Doulebov. "Ask him into
+your study and I will talk to him. In the meantime, show Ardalyon
+Borisovitch the laboratory."
+
+Doulebov and Voronok spoke for a long time in Poterin's study.
+
+"I don't question your convictions," said the Headmaster, "but I must
+make it clear to you that it is impossible to introduce politics into
+schools. Children cannot discuss such questions; it does them harm."
+
+"Agents' reports are not always to be believed," said Voronok
+restrainedly.
+
+Doulebov flushed slightly and said in an annoyed manner.
+
+"We don't maintain agents, but we have many acquaintances. We have
+lived here a long time. It is impossible not to hear what is told us."
+
+The honorary overseer, Zherbenev, invited all who attended the
+examination to his house to dinner. Only Voronok refused the
+invitation. But Zherbenev invited others to the dinner--the general's
+widow, Glafira Pavlovna, and Kerbakh among them. It was a long and
+lavish dinner. The guests drank much during and after the meal. Every
+one got tipsy. Doulebov alone remained sober. The liqueurs only made
+him look slightly ruddier--he was very fond of them.
+
+The members of the Black Hundred took advantage of the occasion to say
+something malicious about Trirodov to Doulebov and the Vice-Governor.
+The Trirodov school began to be discussed rather vulgarly.
+
+"He's taken up photography; quite keen on it."
+
+"He calls in children, makes them take everything off, and photographs
+them."
+
+"Yes, and he's got naked children running about in the woods."
+
+"Children? The instructresses too!"
+
+"They may not be exactly naked, but they are always running about
+barefoot."
+
+"Just like peasant women," said Zherbenev.
+
+"Yes," said the Vice-Governor. "It is very immoral for women to go
+about barefoot. It must be stopped."
+
+"They are poor people," said some one.
+
+"It is pornography!" said the Vice-Governor savagely.
+
+And every one suddenly believed him. The Vice-Governor said morosely:
+
+"He's lodged a complaint against us for whipping his instructress. But
+he is lying; he's whipped her himself. We have no need of whipping
+girls--but he does it because he's a corrupt man."
+
+Some one made the observation that Trirodov was friends with dangerous
+sects, at which Kerbakh remarked:
+
+"He now has horses and carriages, but I know a man who knew him when
+he had only his shirt. It is rather suspicious as to where he got his
+money."
+
+Glafira Pavlovna looked at Shabalov and whispered to Doulebov:
+
+"I know he is a patriot, but he has terrible manners."
+
+Doulebov said:
+
+"I know he is very stupid and undeveloped, but zealous. If directed
+properly he can be very useful."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next morning the Headmaster of the National Schools, accompanied by
+the Vice-Governor and Shabalov, started in their carriages from the
+Headmaster's offices and drove off to Trirodov's school in the
+Prosianiya Meadows. They had not yet fully recovered from the previous
+day's carouse. They carried on their indecent, half-tipsy
+conversations in the midst of nature's loveliness. They looked like a
+lot of picnickers.
+
+Zinaida Grigorievna and Kerbakh, who were in one carriage, were
+engaged in a malicious conversation. They tore their acquaintances to
+shreds. She began with Poterin's gloves. Then she related about the
+suicide of another inspector's mistress; she drowned herself because
+she was about to have a child. Then she told about a third inspector
+who got drunk in a bath-house and got into a tussle there with the
+mayor of the town.
+
+Shabalov was riding in a trap with Zherbenev.
+
+"It would be good to have a tasty snack," he said.
+
+"We are sure to get something there," replied Zherbenev confidently.
+
+The visitors were all confident that they were being awaited. Zinaida
+Grigorievna said:
+
+"The most interesting part of it will be hidden of course."
+
+"Yes, but we'll investigate."
+
+It was a fresh, early morning. The road went through the wood. They
+had now driven for a long time. It seemed as if the same meadows and
+woods, copses, streams, and bridges repeated themselves again and
+again. They began to ask the drivers:
+
+"Are you sure you're going the right way?"
+
+"Perhaps you've lost your way."
+
+"I think it's in that direction."
+
+The two towers of Trirodov's house soon became visible. They appeared
+to the right, and yet it was impossible to find the way to them. For a
+long time they blundered. The roads spread and branched out at this
+point. At last the driver of the first carriage stopped his horses,
+and behind it the other carriages came to a standstill.
+
+"I'll have to ask some one," said the driver. "There's some sort of a
+boy coming this way."
+
+A ten-year-old, barefoot boy could be seen coming down the road from
+the wood. Shabalov shouted savagely at him:
+
+"Stop!"
+
+The boy glanced at the carriages and calmly walked on. Shabalov cried
+more furiously this time:
+
+"Stop, you young brat! Off with your cap! Don't you see that gentlemen
+are coming--why don't you bow to them?"
+
+The boy paused. He looked in astonishment at the variety of carriages
+and did not take his cap off. Doulebova decided:
+
+"He's simply an idiot!"
+
+"Well, we shall make him talk," said Kerbakh.
+
+He left his carriage and, going up to the boy, asked him:
+
+"Do you know where Trirodov's school is?"
+
+The boy silently pointed to one of the roads with his hand. Then he
+ran off quickly, and disappeared somewhere among the bushes.
+
+At last the road went along a fence. Everything all around seemed
+deserted and quiet. Evidently no one awaited the visitors or had
+arranged to meet them.
+
+Finally they reached the gates of the enclosure. They looked around.
+It was very quiet. No one was visible anywhere. Shabalov jumped out of
+his trap and began to look for the bell. Madame Doulebova said in
+great irritation:
+
+"What do you think of that?"
+
+They tried to open the small gate by themselves but were unable.
+Shabalov cried out:
+
+"Open the gate! You devils, demons, sinners!"
+
+Madame Doulebova tried to soothe Shabalov, who justified himself:
+
+"Forgive me, Zinaida Grigorievna. It is most annoying. If I had come
+myself I shouldn't have minded waiting, though even then it would have
+been discourteous--being, after all, an official. And here the higher
+authorities have announced their coming, and these people pay
+absolutely no attention to it."
+
+At last the small gate opened, suddenly and noiselessly. A boy,
+sunburnt and barefoot, in a white shirt and short white breeches,
+stood on the threshold. The angry Doulebov said in his thin, shrill
+voice:
+
+"Is this Trirodov's school?"
+
+"Yes," said the boy.
+
+The visitors entered and found themselves in a small glade. Three
+barefoot girls slowly came to meet them. These were instructresses.
+Nadezhda Vestchezerova looked with her large dark eyes at Madame
+Doulebova, who whispered to the Vice-Governor:
+
+"Have a look at her. This girl had a scandal in her life, but he's
+taken her on."
+
+Doulebova knew every one in town, and she knew especially well those
+who have had an unpleasant experience of some sort.
+
+Presently Trirodov appeared in a white summer suit. He looked with an
+ironic smile at the gaily dressed party of visitors.
+
+The visitors were met with courtesy; but the Headmaster was displeased
+because no honour was shown them and no special preparations were
+evident. The instructresses were dressed as simply as always. Doulebov
+was especially displeased because both the instructresses and their
+pupils walked about barefoot. The naivete of the children irritated
+the visitors. The children looked at the party indifferently. Some of
+them nodded a greeting, others did not.
+
+"Take off your cap!" shouted Shabalov.
+
+The boy pulled his cap off and reached it out to Shabalov with the
+remark:
+
+"Here!"
+
+Shabalov growled savagely:
+
+"Idiot!"
+
+Then he turned away. The boy looked at him in astonishment.
+
+Doulebov, and even more his wife, were terribly annoyed because they
+had not put on more clothes for their visitors, not even shoes. The
+Vice-Governor looked dully and savagely. Everything displeased him at
+once. Doulebov asked with a frown:
+
+"Surely they are not always like that?"
+
+"Always, Vladimir Grigorievitch," replied Trirodov. "They have got
+used to it."
+
+"But it is indecent!" said Madame Doulebova.
+
+"It is the one thing that is decent," retorted Trirodov.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+
+The windows of the house in the small glade were wide open. The
+twitter of birds was audible and the fresh, delicious aroma of flowers
+entered in. It was here the children gathered, and the miserable farce
+of the examination began. Doulebov stood up before an ikon on one side
+of the room, assumed a stately air, and exclaimed:
+
+"Children, rise to prayer."
+
+The children rose. Doulebov thrust a finger forward towards a
+dark-eyed boy's breast and shouted:
+
+"Read, boy!"
+
+The thin, shrill outcry and the movement of the finger towards the
+child's breast were so unexpected by the boy that he trembled and gave
+a choking sound. Some one behind him laughed, another gave an amused
+chuckle. Doulebova exchanged glances with Kerbakh and shrugged her
+shoulders; her face expressed horror.
+
+The boy quickly recovered himself and read the prayer.
+
+"Sit down, children," ordered Doulebov.
+
+The children resumed their places, while the elders seated themselves
+at a table in the order of their rank--the Vice-Governor and Doulebov
+in the middle, with the others to their right and left. Doulebova
+looked round with an anxious, angry expression. At last she said in a
+bass voice, extraordinarily coarse for a woman:
+
+"Shut the windows. The birds are making a noise, and the wind too; it
+is impossible to do anything."
+
+Trirodov looked at her in astonishment. He said quietly to Nadezhda:
+
+"Close the windows. Our guests can't stand fresh air."
+
+The windows were shut. The children looked with melancholy tedium at
+the depressing window-panes.
+
+Writing exercises were given. A little tale was read aloud from a
+reader brought by Shabalov. Doulebov asked the class to compose it in
+their own words.
+
+The boys and girls were about to pick up their pens, but Doulebov
+stopped them and delivered a long and tedious dissertation on how to
+write the given composition. Then he said:
+
+"Now you can write it."
+
+The children wrote. It was quiet. The writers handed in their papers
+to their instructresses. Doulebov and Shabalov looked them over there
+and then. They tried to find mistakes, but there were few. Then
+dictation was given.
+
+Doulebova looked morosely the whole while and blinked often. Trirodov
+tried to enter into conversation with her, but the angry dame answered
+so haughtily that it was with great difficulty he refrained from
+smiling, and finally he left the malicious woman to herself.
+
+After the written exercises Trirodov asked the uninvited guests to
+luncheon.
+
+"It was such a long journey here," said Doulebov as if he were
+explaining why he did not refuse the invitation to eat.
+
+The children scattered a short way into the wood, while the elders
+went into a neighbouring house, where the luncheon was ready. The
+conversation during luncheon was constrained and captious. The
+Doulebovs tried all sorts of pinpricks and coarse insinuations; their
+companions followed suit. Every one tried to outdo the other in saying
+caustic, spiteful things.
+
+Doulebov looked with simulated horror at Trirodov's instructresses who
+happened to be present, and whispered to Kerbakh:
+
+"Their feet are soiled with earth."
+
+After luncheon they returned to the school. All resumed their former
+places. Then the oral examination began. Doulebov bent over the
+roll-call and called out three boys at once. Each of them was
+questioned first about the Holy Scriptures, and immediately afterwards
+about the Russian language and arithmetic.
+
+The examiners cavilled at everything. Nothing satisfied Doulebov. He
+gave questions the answers to which were bound to make evident whether
+higher feelings were being instilled in the children--of love for the
+Fatherland, of allegiance to the Tsar, and of devotion to the Orthodox
+Church. He asked one boy:
+
+"Which country is better, Russia or France?"
+
+The boy thought a while and said:
+
+"I don't know. It depends upon which place a man is used to--there he
+is better off."
+
+Doulebova laughed viperously. Shabalov said in a preceptorial manner:
+
+"The orthodox _matushka_[33] Russia! Is it possible to compare
+any kingdom with ours? Have you heard how our native land is called?
+Holy Russia, Mother Russia, the holy Russian soil. And you are an
+idiot, blockhead, a little swine. If you don't like your Fatherland
+what are you good for?"
+
+The boy flushed. Tiny tears gleamed in his eyes. Doulebov asked:
+
+"Now tell me what is the very best faith in this world."
+
+The boy fell into thought. Shabalov asked malignantly:
+
+"Can't you answer even that?"
+
+The boy said:
+
+"When one believes sincerely, then it is the very best faith for him."
+
+"What a blockhead!" said Shabalov with conviction.
+
+Trirodov looked at him in astonishment. He said quietly:
+
+"The sincerity of religious mood is surely the best indication of a
+saving faith."
+
+"We'll discuss that later," piped out Doulebov sternly. "This is not a
+convenient moment."
+
+"As you like," said Trirodov with a smile. "It is all the same to me
+when you discuss it."
+
+Doulebov, red with agitation, rose from his chair and, going up to
+Trirodov, said to him:
+
+"It is absolutely necessary that I should have a talk with you."
+
+"At your service," said Trirodov, not without some astonishment.
+
+"Please continue," said Doulebov to Shabalov.
+
+Doulebov and Trirodov went into the next room. Their conversation soon
+assumed a very sharp character. Doulebov made some savage accusations
+and said rather vehemently:
+
+"I have heard improper things about your school, but, indeed, the
+reality exceeds all expectations."
+
+"What is there precisely improper?" asked Trirodov. "In what way has
+reality surpassed gossip?"
+
+"I don't collect gossip," squealed Doulebov excitedly. "I see with my
+own eyes. This is not a school but a pornography!"
+
+His voice had already passed into piggish tones. He struck the table
+with his palm. There was the hard sound of the wedding-ring against
+the wood. Trirodov said:
+
+"I too have heard that you were a man with self-control. But this is
+not the first time to-day that I've noticed your violent movements."
+
+Doulebov made an effort to recover himself. He said more quietly:
+
+"It is a revolting pornography!"
+
+"And what do you call pornography?" asked Trirodov.
+
+"Don't you know?" said Doulebov with a sarcastic smile.
+
+"Yes, I know," said Trirodov. "In my conception every written lechery
+and disfigurement of beautiful truth to gratify the low instincts of
+the man-beast--that is pornography. Your thrice-assured State
+school--that is the true example of pornography."
+
+"They walk about naked here!" squealed Doulebov.
+
+Trirodov retorted:
+
+"They will be healthier and cleaner than those children who leave your
+school."
+
+Doulebov shouted:
+
+"Even your instructresses walk about naked. You've taken on depraved
+girls as instructresses."
+
+Trirodov replied calmly:
+
+"That's a lie!"
+
+The Headmaster said sharply and excitedly:
+
+"Your school--if this awful, impossible establishment can be called a
+school--will be closed at once. I will make the application to the
+District to-day."
+
+Trirodov replied sharply:
+
+"That you can do."
+
+Soon the visitors left in an ugly frame of mind. Doulebova hissed and
+waxed indignant the whole way back.
+
+"He's clearly a dangerous man," observed Kerbakh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+
+Piotr and Rameyev arrived at Trirodov's together. Rameyev more than
+once said to Piotr that he had been very rude to Trirodov, and that he
+ought to smooth out matters somehow. Piotr agreed very unwillingly.
+
+Once more they talked about the war.[34] Trirodov asked Rameyev:
+
+"I think you see only a political significance in this war."
+
+"And do you disagree with me?" asked Rameyev.
+
+"No," said Trirodov, "I admit that. But, in my opinion, aside from the
+stupid and criminal actions of these or other individuals, there are
+more general causes. History has its own dialectic. Whether or not a
+war had taken place is all the same: there would have been a fated
+collision in any case, in one or another form; there would have begun
+the decisive struggle between two worlds, two comprehensions of the
+world, two moralities, Buddha and Christ."
+
+"The teachings of Buddhism resemble those of Christianity
+considerably," said Piotr. "That is its only value."
+
+"Yes," said Trirodov. "There appears to be a great resemblance at the
+first glance; but actually these two systems are as opposite as the
+poles. They are the affirmation and the denial of life, its Yes and
+its No, its irony and its lyricism. The affirmation, Yes, is
+Christianity; the denial, No, is Buddhism."
+
+"That seems to me to be too much of a generalization," said Rameyev.
+
+Trirodov continued:
+
+"I generalize for the sake of clearness. The present moment in history
+is especially convenient. It is history's zenith hour. Now that
+Christianity has revealed the eternal contradiction of the world, we
+are passing through the poignant struggle of those two world
+conceptions."
+
+"And not the struggle of the classes?" asked Rameyev.
+
+"Yes," said Trirodov, "there is also the struggle of the classes, to
+whatever degree two inimical factors enter into the struggle--social
+justice and the real relation of forces--a common morality, which is
+always static, and a common dynamism. The Christian element is in
+morality, the Buddhistic in dynamism. Indeed, the weakness of Europe
+consists in that its life has already for a long time nourished itself
+on a substance Buddhistic in origin."
+
+Piotr said confidently, in the voice of a young prophet:
+
+"In this duel Christianity will triumph--not the historic
+Christianity, of course, and not the present, but the Christianity of
+St. John and the Apocalypse. And it will triumph only then when
+everything will appear lost, and the world will be in the power of the
+yellow Antichrist."
+
+"I don't think that will happen," said Trirodov quietly.
+
+"I suppose you think Buddha will triumph," said Piotr in vexation.
+
+"No," replied Trirodov calmly.
+
+"The devil, perhaps!" exclaimed Piotr.
+
+"Petya!" exclaimed Rameyev reproachfully.
+
+Trirodov lowered his head slightly, as if he were confused, and said
+tranquilly:
+
+"We see two currents, equally powerful. It would be strange that
+either one of them should conquer. That is impossible. It is
+impossible to destroy half of the whole historical energy."
+
+"However," said Piotr, "if neither Christ nor Buddha conquers, what
+awaits us? Or is that fool Guyau right when he speaks of the
+irreligiousness of future generations?"[35]
+
+"There will be a synthesis," replied Trirodov. "You will accept it for
+the devil."
+
+"This contradictory mixture is worse than forty devils!" exclaimed
+Piotr.
+
+The visitors soon left.
+
+Kirsha came without being called--confused and agitated by an
+indefinable something. He was silent, and his dark eyes flamed with
+sadness and fear. He walked up to the window, looked out in an
+attitude of expectancy. He seemed to see something in the distance.
+There was a look of apprehension in his dark, wide-open eyes, as if
+they were fixed on a strange distant vision. Thus people look during a
+hallucination.
+
+Kirsha turned to his father and, growing pale, said quietly:
+
+"Father, a visitor has come to you from quite afar. How strange that
+he has come in a simple carriage and in ordinary clothes! I wonder why
+he has come?"
+
+They could hear the crunching sound of the sand under the iron hoops
+of the wheels of the calash which had just entered the gates. Kirsha's
+face wore a gloomy expression. It was difficult to comprehend what was
+in his soul--was it a reproach?--astonishment?--fear?
+
+Trirodov went to the window. A man of about forty, impressive for his
+appearance of calm and self-assurance, stepped out of the calash.
+Trirodov recognized his visitor at the first glance, though he had
+never met him before in society. He knew him well, but only from
+portraits he had seen of him, from his literary works, and from the
+stories of his admirers and articles about him. In his youth Trirodov
+had had some slight relations with him through friends, but this was
+interrupted. He had not even met him.
+
+Trirodov suddenly felt both cheerful and sad. He reflected:
+
+"Why has he come to me? What does he want of me? And why should he
+suddenly think of me? Our roads have diverged so much, we have become
+such strangers to one another."
+
+There was his disturbing curiosity:
+
+"I'll see and hear him for the first time."
+
+And the mutinous protest:
+
+"His words are a lie! His preachings the ravings of despair. There was
+no miracle, there is none, and there will not be!"
+
+Kirsha, very agitated, ran out of the room. The sensitive and painful
+feeling of aloneness seized Trirodov as in a sticky net, entangled his
+legs, and obstructed his glances with grey.
+
+A quiet boy entered, smiling, and handed him a card, on which, under a
+princely crown, was the lithographed inscription:
+
+  _Immanuel Osipovitch Davidov_.[36]
+
+In a voice dark and deep with suppressed excitement Trirodov said to
+the boy:
+
+"Ask him to come in."
+
+The provoking and unanswerable question persisted in his mind:
+
+"Why, why has he come? What does he want of me?"
+
+With an avidly curious glance he looked at the door, and did not take
+his eyes away. He heard the measured, unhastening footsteps, nearer
+and nearer--as if his fate were approaching.
+
+The door opened, admitting the visitor--Prince Immanuel Osipovitch
+Davidov, celebrated as author and preacher, a man of a distinguished
+family and democratic views, a man beloved of many and possessed of
+the mystery of extraordinary fascination, attracting to him many
+hearts.
+
+His face was very smooth, quite un-Russian in type. His lips, slightly
+descending at the corners, were marked with sorrow. His beard was
+reddish, short, and cut to a point. His red-gold, slightly wavy hair
+was cut quite short. This astonished Trirodov, who had always seen the
+Prince in portraits wearing his hair rather long, like the poet
+Nadson. His eyes were black, flaming and deep. Deeply hidden in his
+eyes was an expression of great weariness and suffering, which the
+inattentive observer might have interpreted as an expression of
+fatigued tranquillity and indifference. Everything about the
+visitor--his face and his ways--betrayed his habit of speaking in a
+large company, even in a crowd.
+
+He walked up tranquilly to Trirodov and said, as he stretched out his
+hand:
+
+"I wanted to see you. I have observed you for some time, and at last
+have come to you."
+
+Trirodov, making an effort to control his agitation and his deep
+irritation, said with an affectedly amiable voice:
+
+"I'm very pleased to greet you in my house. I've heard much about you
+from the Pirozhkovskys. Of course you know that they have a great
+admiration and affection for you."
+
+Prince Davidov looked at him piercingly but calmly, perhaps too
+calmly. It seemed strange that he answered nothing to the remark about
+the Pirozhkovskys--as if Trirodov's words passed by him like momentary
+shadows, without so much as touching anything in his soul. On the
+other hand, the Pirozhkovskys have always talked about Prince Davidov
+as of an intimate acquaintance. "Yesterday we dined at the Prince's";
+"The Prince is finishing a new poem"--by simply "the Prince" they gave
+one to understand that their remark concerned their friend, Prince
+Davidov. Trirodov recalled that the Prince had many acquaintances, and
+that there were always large gatherings in his house.
+
+"Permit me to offer you some refreshment," said Trirodov. "Will you
+have wine?"
+
+"I'd rather have tea, if you don't mind," said Prince Davidov.
+
+Trirodov pressed the button of the electric bell. Prince Davidov
+continued in his tranquil, too tranquil, voice:
+
+"My fiancee lives in this town. I've come to see her, and have taken
+advantage of this opportunity to have a chat with you. There are many
+things I should like to discuss with you but I shall not have the
+time. We must limit ourselves to the more important matters."
+
+And he began to talk, and did not wait for answers or refutations. His
+flaming speech poured itself out--about faith, miracles, about the
+likely and inevitable transfiguration of the world by means of a
+miracle, about our triumph over the fetters of time and over death
+itself.
+
+The quiet boy Grisha brought tea and cakes, and with measured
+movements put them on the table, pausing now and then to look at the
+visitor with his blue, quiet eyes.
+
+Prince Davidov looked reproachfully at Trirodov. A repressed smile
+trembled on Trirodov's lips and an obstinate challenge gleamed in his
+eyes. The visitor affectionately drew Grisha to him and stroked him
+gently. The quiet boy stood calmly there--and Trirodov was gloomy. He
+said to his visitor: "You love children. I can understand that. They
+are angelic beings, though unbearable sometimes. It is only a pity
+that they die too often upon this accursed earth. They are born in
+order to die."
+
+Prince Davidov, with a tranquil movement, pushed Grisha away from him.
+He put his hand on the boy's head as if in blessing, then suddenly
+became grave and stern, and asked quietly:
+
+"Why do you do this?"
+
+He asked the question with a great exertion of the will, like one who
+wished to exercise power. Trirodov smiled:
+
+"You do not like it?" he asked. "Well, what of it--you with your
+extensive connexions could easily hinder me."
+
+The tone in which he uttered his words expressed proud irony. Thus
+Satan would have spoken, tempting a famished one in the desert.
+
+Prince Davidov frowned. His black eyes flared up. He asked again:
+
+"Why have you done all this? The body of the malefactor and the soul
+of an innocent--why should you have it all?"
+
+Trirodov, looking angrily at his visitor, said resolutely:
+
+"My design has been daring and difficult--but have I alone suffered
+from despondency, suffered until I perspired with blood? Do I alone
+bear within me a dual soul, and unite in me two worlds? Am I alone
+worn out by nightmares as heavy as the burdens of the world? Have I
+alone in a tragic moment felt myself lonely and forsaken?"
+
+The visitor smiled a strange, sad, tranquil smile. Trirodov continued:
+
+"You had better know that I will never be with you, that I will not
+accept your comforting theories. All your literary and preaching
+activity is a complete mistake. I don't believe anything of what you
+say so eloquently, enticing the weak. I simply don't believe it."
+
+The visitor was silent.
+
+"Leave me alone!" said Trirodov decisively. "There is no miracle.
+There was no resurrection. No one has conquered death. The
+establishment of a single will over the inert, amorphous world is a
+deed not yet accomplished."
+
+Prince Davidov rose and said sorrowfully:
+
+"I will leave you alone, if you wish it. But you will regret that you
+have rejected the path I have shown you--the only path."
+
+Trirodov said proudly:
+
+"I know the true path--my path."
+
+"Good-bye," said Prince Davidov simply and calmly.
+
+He left--and in a little while it seemed that he had not been there.
+Lost in painful reflections, Trirodov did not hear the noise of the
+departing carriage; the unexpected call of the dark-faced, fascinating
+visitor, with his flaming speech and his fiery eyes, stirred his
+memory like a midday dream, like an abrupt hallucination.
+
+"Who is his fiancee, and why is she here?" Trirodov asked himself.
+
+A strange, impossible idea came into his head. Did not Elisaveta once
+speak about him with rapture? Perhaps the unexpected visitor would
+take Elisaveta away from him, as he had taken her from Piotr.
+
+This misgiving tormented him. But Trirodov looked into the clearness
+of her eyes on the portrait taken recently and at the grace and
+loveliness of her body and suddenly consoled himself. He thought:
+
+"She is mine."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But Elisaveta, musing and burning, was experiencing passionate dreams;
+and she felt the tediousness of the grey monotony of her dull life.
+The strange vision suddenly appearing to her in those terrible moments
+in the wood repeated itself persistently--and it seemed to her that it
+was not another but she herself who was experiencing a parallel life,
+that she was passing the exultantly bright, joyous, and sad way of
+Queen Ortruda.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+
+[Footnote 1: Also the scene of Sologub's "Little Demon."]
+
+[Footnote 2: Footpath of the dead.]
+
+[Footnote 3: This word, which is the Russian equivalent for _Ham_
+of the Bible, describes a man in a state of serfdom. Since the
+abolition of serfdom in Russia, it has come to define the plebeian;
+and is a sort of personification of the rabble. The satirist Stchedrin
+has defined _Kham_ as "one who eats with a knife and takes milk
+with his after-dinner coffee." Merezhkovsky has written a book on
+Gorky under the title of "The Future Kham."--_Translator_.]
+
+[Footnote 4: Bossiak literally means "a barefooted one," but may be
+more freely translated a "tramp." This type has come very much into
+vogue since Gorky has put him into his stories.--Translator.]
+
+[Footnote 5: This phrase signifies punishment inflicted by the
+authorities without a trial.]
+
+[Footnote 6: The name by which the members of the Constitutional
+Democratic Party are known. It is a development of the initials "C.
+D."]
+[Footnote 7: Reference to the identity of the Black Hundred.]
+
+[Footnote 8: See note on page 44.]
+
+[Footnote 9: The Black Hundred.]
+
+[Footnote 10: Betty.]
+
+[Footnote 11: Nickname for Social Democrats.]
+
+[Footnote 12: Nickname for Social Revolutionaries.]
+
+[Footnote 13: A political party of moderate liberals which owes its
+name to the fact that on October 17, 1905, the Russian Constitution
+was established and the Duma organized.]
+
+[Footnote 14: Member of the Social Democratic Party.]
+
+[Footnote 15: See note on page 26.]
+
+[Footnote 16: See note on page 44.]
+
+[Footnote 17: Whips.]
+
+[Footnote 18: Members of the Social Revolutionary Party are supposed
+to wear black shirts, those of the Social Democratic Party red.]
+
+[Footnote 19: Forest fires are one of the numerous problems of Russia.
+They seem to be difficult to put out, and sometimes go on for weeks.
+Hence the numerous references in the following pages to the constant
+odour of forest flames.]
+
+[Footnote 20: These two Greek Fates are important and recurring
+symbols in Sologub's philosophy. The world of Aisa is the world of
+chaos and chance, in which man is too often lost in trying to emerge
+from it. The people who belong to Ananke are those who, acting of
+necessity, define their world clearly and conquer chaos. Theirs is the
+immutable truth. See also Introduction.]
+
+[Footnote 21: A line from a poem by Pushkin.]
+
+[Footnote 22: Siberian island famous for its prison.]
+
+[Footnote 23: Usually brought along as witnesses.]
+
+[Footnote 24: I have it on the authority of one who was of the party
+that it actually took place at the house of a celebrated living poet
+in St. Petersburg. The lost cap belonged to Dmitry Merezhkovsky, who
+immediately wrote a much-discussed article in an important newspaper
+under the title of "What has become of our Cap?" The above is an
+actual quotation from it. The sarcastic remark about "throwing back
+the enemy" is aimed at those "patriots" who used to say that all
+Russians had to do to repel foreign enemies was to throw their caps at
+them.--Translator.]
+
+[Footnote 25: The second of the novels under the general head of "The
+Created Legend" deals with the previous existence of Elisaveta when
+she was the Queen Ortruda of the United Isles in the Mediterranean,
+and her consort was Prince Tancred, now Trirodov. She died from
+suffocation in a volcanic eruption, after a vain effort to help her
+people. The author draws a curious parallel, not only with regard to
+these two characters, but has also a revolution as the background; it
+is a rather veiled effort to describe over again the events which took
+place in Russia in 1905.--Translator.]
+
+[Footnote 26: Unleavened bread of the Passover.]
+
+[Footnote 27: In a poem in prose which serves as an introduction to
+his Complete Works, Sologub says: "Born not the first time, and not
+the first to complete a circle of external transformations, I simply
+and calmly reveal my soul. I reveal it in the hope _that the
+intimate part of me shall become the universal_."--Translator.]
+
+[Footnote 28: Readers of "The Little Demon" will have no trouble in
+recognizing in Ardalyon Borisovitch an old acquaintance--Peredonov.]
+
+[Footnote 29: Diminutive for father, and used in the sense of "my good
+fellow," etc.]
+
+[Footnote 30: "Golubushka" is "little dove." English equivalent as
+used here: "my dear."]
+
+[Footnote 31: Title of standard didactic work by Karamzin
+(1766-1826).]
+
+[Footnote 32: Mikhail Katkov (1820-1887), a celebrated reactionary and
+Slavophil.]
+
+[Footnote 33: Little Mother.]
+
+[Footnote 34: The Russo-Japanese War.]
+
+[Footnote 35: A reference to J. M. Guyau's book, "Non-Religion of the
+Future."]
+
+[Footnote 36: There is an evident effort here to identify "Immanuel
+Osipovitch Davidov" as a modern symbol of Christ, or more properly of
+Christ's teachings, "Osipovitch" means the "son of Joseph"; "Davidov,"
+"of David,"--Translator.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Created Legend, by Feodor Sologub
+
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