" Is it a question of bargains in this too, uncle ? "

" Yes, as in everything, my dear boy; and one who does not reckon the cost of a bargain we call a reckless fool. It is short and clear."

"Oh, but to lock up in your breast the generous impulses of the heart! "

" Oh, I know you will not lock them up; you are ready in the street, in the theatre, anywhere, to throw yourself on your friend's neck and sob."

" And why a reckless fool, uncle ? You should have said only that he is a man of strong passions, that a man who feels so is capable of everything generous and noble, and incapable "

" Incapable of reckoning, that is, reflection. He is a grand figure—your man of strong passions, of titanic emotions! How much of it pray is merely physical temperament? Transports, exultations indeed, the man is below the dignity of a man in all that, and has nothing to pride himself upon. We must ask whether he knows how v to control his feelings; if he knows how to do that, then he I is a man."

"According to you, feeling has to be controlled like steam," observed Alexandr, "now a little let oflf, then suddenly stopped, opening a valve and shutting it."

s

" Yes, nature has given man such a valve—and not for nothing—it is reason, and you don't always make use of it —it's a pity ! but you're a good sort of fellow !"

" No, uncle, it's sad to hear you; better let me go and make acquaintance with that lady who has lately arrived in

town -". V\ c a

"With whom? Madame Lubetsky ? Was she there yesterday ? " -*—*

" Yes, she talked to me a long while about you, asked after some business matter of hers."

"Oh, to be sure; by the way " The uncle took

a paper out of a box. "Take her that paper, tell her that only yesterday and by the merest chance they let me have it from the office; explain the matter clearly to her; of course you heard what I said to the official ? "

" Yes, I know, I know, I will explain it."

Alexandr clutched the paper with both hands, and stuffed it into his pocket Piotr Ivanitch looked at him.

" But what made you think of making her acquaintance ? She is not very charming, I should suppose, with a wart on her nose."

" A wart ? I don't remember. How did you notice that, uncle?"

" On her nose, and he did not notice it! What do you want from her ? "

" She is so kind and so distinguished."

" Could you not notice the wart on her nose, and yet have found out that she is kind and distinguished ? It's very queer. But stop—she has a daughter to be sure— that little brunette. Ah! now I don't wonder at it. So that is why you did not notice the wart on her nose."

Both smiled.

"But I do wonder, uncle," said Alexandr; "how you noticed the wart before the daughter ."

"Give me back the pSpeT; When you are there, I suppose you will let off all your feeling and altogether forget to shut the valve, you will make some mistake and there's no telling what you will explain."

" No, uncle, I won't make a mistake. As for papers, as you like, I won't give it then, but will go at once." And he vanished from the room.

Up to this time business had gone steadily on its usual

y

A COMMON STORY 67

course. At the office they noticed Alexandras abilities and had given him a pretty good position. And on the journal, too, Alexandr had become a person of consideration. He undertook the selection as well as the translation and correction of foreign articles, and wrote himself various v/theoretical articles on agriculture. His income was in his own opinion larger than he needed, though still insufficient for his uncle's ideas. But he was not always working for money. He had not renounced his consoling belief in another higher vocation. His youthful strength was equal to everything. He stole time from sleep, and office work, and wrote both verses and stories and historical sketches and biographies. His uncle did not now cover his screens with his compositions, but read them in silence, then gave a low whistle, or said, " Yes ! this is better than you used to do." A few articles appeared under a nom de plume. With a tremor of pleasure Alexandr listened to the favourable criticisms of friends, of whom he had a number, at his office, and at the coffee-house or at private houses. His most cherished dream—after love—was thus fulfilled. The future promised him much that was brilliant, many triumphs; a destiny—not altogether ordinary—seemed to be awaiting him—when suddenly

A few months had passed by. Alexandr was scarcely to be seen, he seemed to be lost. He went less often to his uncle's. The latter attributed it to his being busy, and did not disturb him. But the editor of the journal, meeting Piotr Ivanitch one day, complained that Alexandr kept back articles. The uncle promised to take the next opportunity of getting an explanation from his nephew. An opportunity presented itself three days after. Alexandr ran in the mornings into his uncle's apartment in a state of ex-^ ultation. There was a restless happiness apparent in every gesture and movement.

" Good morning,uncle; oh, how glad I am to see you!" he said, and was going to embrace him, but his uncle had time to escape behind the table.

" Good morning, Alexandr! Why have we seen nothing of you for so long ? "

" I . . . have been busy, uncle; I have been making an abstract from the German economists."

"Ah! why did the editor tell me such fibs then? He

\

\

68 A COMMON STORY

said to me three days ago that you were doing nothing for him—there's journalistic morality! Next time I meet him I will let him know. . . ."

"No, you must not say anything to him," interposed Alexandr; " I have not sent him my work, and that is why he told you."

" What is the matter with you ? You have such a holiday face ! have they given you an assistant pray, or the cross of honour? "

Alexandr shook his head.

" Well, is it money, then ? "

" No."

" Then, why do you look like a victorious general ? If there's nothing, don't disturb me, but sit down instead and write to Moscow to the Merchant Doubasoff, about despatching as quickly as possible the remainder of the money due. Read his letter through. Where is it? Here."

Both were silent and began to write.

" I have finished !" cried Alexandr in a few minutes.

" That's smart, you're a fine fellow! Show it me. What is this ? You are writing to me. ' Piotr Ivanitch !' His name is Timothy Nikovitch. How 520 roubles! 5200! What is the matter with you, Alexandr? "

Piotr Ivanitch laid down his pen and looked at his nephew. He reddened.

" Do you notice nothing in my face ? " he asked.

" Yes, some silliness. . . . Stop. . . . y ou are in love, " said Piotr Ivanitch. _ ^Alexandr was silent.

" It's soj then7 _ I have guesge&righj; L"

Alexandr with a triumphant smile and a beaming expression nodded energetically.

" So, that's it! How was it I didn't guess it at once ? So that's why you have grown lazy, and that's why we have seen nothing of you everywhere. The Zareyskys and the Skat-chins have been worrying me with 'Where's Alexandr Fedoritch ?' So he's been far away—in the seventh heaven!"

Eotr Ivanitch began to jwrite again.

/" W jjth yad inka Lubetsky ft" said Alexandr.

*» w l! didnt inqutffi," replied his uncle; "whoever it may be—they are all as silly as one another; it's all the same."

" All the same ! Nadinka ! that angel! is it possible you haven't noticed her ? can you say that she is like the other worldly, affected dolls ? You look at her face; what a tender deep soul lies behind it. She is not only a girl of feeling, but of thought .... a deep nature."

His uncle set to work scribbling on a paper with his pen, but Alexandr went on :

" In her talk you don't hear the hackneyed commonplace platitudes. How deeply she understands life! You poison life by your views, but Nadinka reconciles me to it."

Alexandr was silent for a minute and relapsed completely into reveries of Nadinka. Then he began again.

" When she raises her eyes, you see at once what a passionate and tender heart they interpret. And her voice, her voice! what melody, what softness in it! but when that voice sounds with an avowal .... no higher bliss on earth! -Uncle ! what a glorious thing life is ! how happy I am."

Tears were starting into his eyes; he flung himself on his uncle and embraced him with all his might.

" Alexandr !" screamed Piotr Ivanitch jumping up; "shut up your valve directly, you have let off all your steam I You silly fellow! look what you have done in one second ; just two idiocies; you have ru mpl ed my hair and spilt the ink. I thought you had quite got but of those ways. YotT "haven't been like this for a long while. Do for God's sake look at yourself in the glass; could there be a more silly countenance ? and not an idiot!"

" Ha, ha, ha! I am happy, uncle! "

"That's evident. Well, what am I to do now with the letter?" — ' . "

"Eet me—I will scrape it, and it will not be noticed," said Alexandr." He* Hung himself against "the table' wltT^a convulsive shock, began to scrape, to clean, to rub, and ru"Bbed a hole into the letter.

The ta ble tottered under the ru bbi ng an d shook the whatnot "Oh the what-not stood an alaBaster bust of Sophocles, or'iEschylus." The vibrailttrT made the respectable tragedian . first totter backwards and forwards once or twice on his I shaking pedestal; then he was shaken off the what-not, and V was smashed to shivers. _^

^>r Your third idiocy, Alexandr!" said Piotr Ivanitch, picking up the pieces, " it cost fifty roubles."

" I will pay for it, uncle! Oh 1 I will pay for it, but don't blame my emotion; it's pure and generous; I am happy, so happy ! Good God ! how sweet life is ! "

The uncle shook his head.

" When will you have more sense, Alexandr. Pay for it indeed !" he said. " That would be the fourth silliness. You want, I can see, to talk about your happiness. Well, there seems no help for it, so be it, I will give you a quarter of an hour; sit quietly, don't commit any fifth piece of stupidity, and talk away, and then, after that fresh stupidity you must go away; I have no time to spare. Well .... you are happy .... how is that? Tell me about it quickly."

" I admit it is silly, uncle, but such things cannot be told in this way," replied Alexandr with a modest smile.

" I have paved the way for you, but I see you want to begin with the ordinary prelude. That means that the conversation will last a whole hour; I haven't time for it; the post will not wait. You must stop, or better let me tell it myself."

" You ? that's amusing."

" H'm ! listen, it is extremely amusing! You saw your charmer yesterday by herself."

" But how do you know? " asked Alexandr, going up to his uncle.

"Sit down, sit down, for God's sake, and don't come near the table, you will be smashing something. It's all written in your face, I will read it off. Well, you had an explanation," said his uncle.

Alexandr blushed and was silent. It was clear that his uncle was right again.

" You were both very foolish as lovers always are," said Piotr Ivanitch.

The nephew made a gesture of impatience.

" It all began from trifles when you were left alone, from a fancy-work pattern perhaps," the uncle went on; " you asked whom she was working it for. She answered, ' For mamma or for auntie,' or something of that sort, and you shivered as if you were in a fever."

"There you have not guessed right; that was no fancy-work ; we were in the garden," Alexandr blurted out and relapsed into silence.

" Well, then, from flowers, I suppose," said Piotr Ivanitch; " perhaps from a yellow flower, it makes no difference what is before your eyes provided only it serves to start the conversation ; words don't come too readily to the tongue in such circumstances. You asked whether she liked flowers, she answered * Yes.' ' Why ?' you ask. ' Oh, because,' she said, and then you were both silent, because you wanted to say something altogether different and the conversation did not progress. Then you looked at one another, smiled and blushed."

" Oh, uncle, how you talk!" said Alexandr in evident confusion.

" Then," continued his inexorable uncle, " you began in a roundabout way to talk about a new world having opened itself to you. She looked suddenly at you, as though she were hearing something new and unexpected; you, I expect, were at your wits' end, and in confusion, then you said, scarcely audibly again, that only now you understood the value of life, that before you saw her—what her? Maria, or what ? "

" Nadinka."

"You had already seen her in a dream, that you had foreseen your meeting, that some affinity had brought you together, and that now you dedicate to her alone all your verses and prose. And, I expect, your hands weren't still a moment! no doubt you were upsetting or breaking something."

" Uncle ! you must have been listening to us!" shrieked Alexandr beside himself.

" Yes, I was there behind a bush. I have nothing better to do than to run after you and listen to all your absurdities."

" How then do you know all this?" asked Alexandr in perplexity.

" Wonderful, isn't it ? from Adam and Eve downwards, it's the same story for everybody with little variation. You a^writer and surprised at this ? Jtfow you will be walking on air for the next three days like an imbecile, throwing yourself on every one's neck. I should advise you to lock yourself in your room till that period is over and work off your foolishness on Yevsay, so that none else may see it Then you will come to your senses a little, and will obtain some further favour—a kiss for instance."

\

" A kiss from Nadinka! oh, what a high heavenly reward!" cried Alexandr almost weeping.

" Heavenly!"

" Why, do you call it earthly, material ? "

" Well, one must admit a kiss is an electric act; lovers are just like two electric batteries, both heavily charged; the electricity is let off in kisses, and when it's fully let off —then good-bye to love, the cooling process follows."

" Uncle!"

" Oh, I forgot; l material tokens of immaterial relations' are still promient objects in your brain. You will be collecting all sorts of rubbish again and poring and dreaming over them, and work will be laid on the shelf."

Alexandr at once clapped his hand on his pocket.

" What, there already ? so you will do exactly what men have done ever since the creation of the world"

" Then it is what you too have done, uncle ? "

" Yes, it's only a little sillier."

" Sillier! Don't you call it silliness just because my love will be deeper, stronger than yours, because I don't make light of my feelings, and turn them into ridicule as coldly as you, nor tear every veil off the sacred mystery."

"Your love will be just like other people's, neither deeper nor stronger; and you too will tear the veil off the sacred mystery; the only difference is that you will believe in eternal, unchanging love, and will think about nothing else, and that is just what is so silly; you are only preparing for yourself more unhappiness than you need."

" Ah !" said Alexandr, " in spite of your prophecies, I will be happy, I will love once and for ever."

" Oh, no ! I foresee you will break a good many more of my properties before you've done. But that does not signify; love is love, no one hinders you; we don't generally take love in a boy of your age very seriously, only don't let it go so far as to make you neglect business, love is love and business is business."

" Well, I am making an abstract from the German."

" There, there, you are not doing anything of the sort, you are giving yourself up to * soft emotions,' and the editor will get rid of you."

" Let him ! I don't depend on him. Can I be thinking now of contemptible money—now, when "

" Contemptible money, indeed! You had better build yourself a hut upon the mountains, live on bread and water, and sing—

0 • A cottage poor with thee,

Is Paradise to me,'

only when you've no more contemptible money, don't come to me, I won't give you "

" I don't think I have often troubled you."

" So far, I'm thankful to say you haven't, only it may come to that if you neglect work; love too costs money; you want to be extra smart and lots of different expenses. Oh, love at twenty! Come that's contemptible, contemptible if you like ! There's no sense in it."

" What love has sense in it, uncle ? Love at forty ? "

" I don't know what love is like at forty, but love at thirty-seven "

" Like yours ? "

" Yes, if you like, like mine."

" That is, no love at all."

" How do you know ? "

" Do you mean to say you can love ? "

" Why not ? Am I not a man, or am I seventy ? Only if I love, I love reasonably, I reflect on myself, I don't smash or upset things."

" Reasonable love! a fine kind of love that reflects on itself!" remarked Alexandr scoffingly, "that never forgets itself for an instant."

" When it is savage, instinctive," put in Piotr Ivanitch, " it does not reflect, but reasonable feeling must reflect; if it does not, it is not love."

" What is it then ? "

" Oh, vileness, as you would call it."

"You—love!" said Alexandr, looking incredulously at his uncle, " ha ! ha! ha ! "

Piotr Ivanitch went on writing in silence.

" Who is it, uncle ? " asked Alexandr.

" Do you want to know ? "

" Yes."

" The lady I'm about to marry ? "

"You—to marry!" Alexandr could scarcely utter the words; he leaped up from his place and went up to his uncle.

" No closer, no closer, Alexandr, shut off the steam I " said Piotr Ivanitch, seeing his nephew's round eyes of astonishment and quickly collecting round him the various small objects on the table—b usts, figures, clocks, a nd inkstands.

] tr Shd you are so calm ! you write letters to Moscow, and talk of outside matters, go to your factory and still talk with such hellish coldness about love!"

" Hellish coldness—that's something new, they say it's hot in hell. But why are you looking at me so strangely ? "

" You get married !"

"What is there astonishing in that?" asked Piotr Ivanitch laying down his pen.

"What indeed? you get married and never a word to me!"

" Why I have just told you."

"You mentioned it because it happened to be apropos of something."

" I try as far as I can to do everything a propos."

" No, you should have communicated your happiness to me first; you know how I love you and how I should participate ... ."

" I dislike participation in everything and especially in marriage."

"Do you know, uncle?" said Alexandr with animation "it may be . . . • no, I cannot conceal it from you. I am not like that, I must tell all."

" Oh, Alexandr, I've no time to spare; if there's another rigmarole, won't it do to-morrow ? "

" I want only to tell you that perhaps .... I too am soon to be as happy "

" What ?" asked Piotr Ivanitch, pricking up his ears a little, "that's something curious."

"Ah! curious? then I will torment you: I won't tell you."

Piotr Ivanitch took up an envelope with an air of indifference, put his letter in it and began to seal it up. *J l " And I too am going to be married perhaps!" said ^Alexandr in his uncle's ear.

Piotr Ivanitch did not finish sealing the letter up but looked at him very seriously.

" Shut off your steam, Alexandr !" he said.

A

A COMMON STORY 75

" You may joke, uncle, you may joke, I am speaking in earnest. I shall ask mamma's consent."

" You get married!"

" And why not ? "

"At your age?"

" I am twenty-three."

" It's high time indeed ! Why at your age no one marries except peasants, who want some one to do the work in their house."

" But if I am in love with a girl, and there is a possibility of marrying her, then, according to you, ought I not "

" I d on't advi se you at any time to marry a woman with w hom y ou are in Iove7

" what7uncle? fliafs a new idea; I never heard of it before."

" I should fancy there are things you haven't heard of."

" I always thought that there ought not to be marriage without love, r

^Marriage is one thing, love is another," said PiQtt

IvanitcnT ** n What are you marrying for then ? For your advantage ? "

" To my advantage, certainly, though not for my advantage. Even you will think of advantages when you marry, you will look out, will choose among women."

" Look out, choose!" cried Alexandr wonderingly.

"Yes, choose. For this rpflsnn^j^dnn^ fid vi se y ou. \SL

marry when vou are M JWB.... Epve, you k^w^ js.fleeting^— th&t is a truth that has become a commonplace."

" It is the grossest lie and calumny."

"Well, there is no convincing you now, you will see for yourself in time, but now only mark my words; love is fleeting^ I repeat, and then the woman who has perhaps seemed to you the ideal of perfection shows herself to be very imperfect, and there's no help for it then. Love screens the absence of qualities needed in a wife. But when in choosing you consider in cool blood whether such or such a woman has the qualities which you would like to see in your wife, you get the greatest advantage. And if you find such a woman she is certain to continue to please you, because she answers to what you wanted. And so closer ties spring up between her and you, which afterwards go to make you "

i " Love one another ? " said Alexandr. ^ "Yes, and suit one another. Marrying f or money —that i s lowj but to marry witho ut any advantage—tfiafTs' stupid T .\ . but it is not suiTaBTeTor^ybii** to* iri fiVTSt"£tt now.'' ~ "When should I marry? When I am growing old? Why should I follow such foolish precedents ? " " You reckon my marriage one ? Thanks!" " I did not mean any reflection on you, uncle, I mean it generally. You hear of a wedding; you go to see it and what do you see? a lovely tender creature who has only been awaiting the magic touch of love to break into a splendid flower, and suddenly they tear her away from her dolls, her nurse, her childish games and dances, and it's well if it's only from all that; but often they don't look into her heart, which very likely is no longer her own. They dress her up in gauze, in blonde, they deck her in flowers, and in spite of her tears, her paleness, they drag her like a victim to the altar and set her beside—whom ? Beside an elderly man, generally unattractive, who has already squandered the strength of his youth. He either casts on her the glances of a passion which is an outrage, or coldly scans her from head to foot and thinks to himself apparently, ' You're pretty, yes, on my word with your head full of nonsense; love and roses—I will soon put an end to such folly, it's all silliness! with me you must give up sighing and dreaming and conduct yourself more properly;' or worse still, he is reflecting on her fortune. At the very youngest he is thirty years old. He often has a bald head, though I daresay he has a decoration or star on his breast. And ' this is the man' they tell her to whom are consecrated all the treasures of your youth, for him the first throbbing of your heart, the first avowal, his are your looks and words and maiden caresses, his is your whole life. And all round are standing in the crowd those who are her equals in youth and beauty, who ought to have been in the bridegroom's place. They gaze eagerly at the poor victim and seem to be saying: ' Ah, when we have exhausted our freshness and health, when we are bald, we too will get married and then we too shall carry of! such a splendid rose:} It's awful!"

[igh-flown, not good, Alexandr! " said Piotr Ivanitch ; " have you been writing now for two years on manures, and

potato-starch, and other serious subjects and you still talk in this high-flown way. For goodness' sake, don't give way to ecstasy."

"But, uncle, is not the poet's thought conceived in ecstasy ? "

"I don't know how it's conceived, but I know that it comes forth finished from the brain, that is when it has been worked up by meditation: it is only then that it is good. Well, but in your opinion," began Piotr Ivanitch after a pause: "to whom would you give these lovely creatures ? "

" To those whom they love, who have not yet lost the bloom of youth and beauty, whom one can see to be still full of life, in whose eyes the fire has not yet died away, who would have brought her the gift of a heart full of love for her, able to understand and to share her emotions when nature claims." ....

" I dare say! you mean to such fine fellows as you. If we were living ' in meads and forests thick'—and such a fellow as you had a wife—much he would get by it! for the first year he would be out of his senses, and then he would either take to hanging about behind the scenes of the theatre, or would give his wife a rival in her lady's maid, because nature's claims of which you talk, demand change, novelty—a pretty state of things ! And then his wife too, noticing her husband's pranks, would suddenly take a fancy to spurs, parades and masquerades, and would pay him out in his own coin .... and without money, it is worse still; he comes begging, ' I have nothing to eat'!"

Piotr Ivanitch made a pitiful face.

" * I am a married man,' he says," continued he. "' I have already three children, help me, I cannot keep them, I am a poor man ' .... a poor man ! what degradation! no, I hope you will not fall into either of these categories."

"I shall fall into the category of happy husbands, uncle, and Nadinka of happy wives. I don't want to be married, as the majority of people marry; they all have the same tale : ' My youth is over, I am tired of solitude, so I must marry !' I am not like that! "

" You are talking nonsense, my dear boy."

" How do you know ? "

"Because you are just like other people, and I have

known other people a long while. Come, tell me, why will you get married ? "

" Why ? Nadinka—my wife !" ejaculated Alexandr, covering His face with his hands.

" Well, you see—you don't know yourself."

" Oh the spirit swoons at the very thought. You don't know how I love her, uncle! I love her as no one ever loved before; with all the strength of my soul—all is hers."

" Really, Alexandr, I would rather have you ranting at me or even if it must be embracing me than repeating that very ridiculous phrase ! How it rolls off your tongue ! ' as no one ever loved before !'"

Piotr Ivanitch shrugged his shoulders.

" Why, do you mean that this cannot be ? "

" Indeed,- when I reflect on your love, I really think it is possible ; impossible for any love to be more foolish !" i " But she says that we must wait a vea^ t hat we are yo ung, J /and oughijo test ourselves—for a whole yeaf—^ndthen^—" year! a h! you should have told me that before !" interposed Piotr Ivanitch; "did she make that condition? What a sensible girl she is. How old is she ? n

u Eighteen."

"And you are twenty-three; well, my friend, she has twenty-three times as much sense as you. I see she understands the whole business: s he will amuse her self wit h you , flirt a little and have a good time ? and then—these little Tiuumes have "an intuition in such things! ffiell, s o""yog J w qjPt b e married then. I thought you wanteaTo Ilx n up* directly* and^gecfeHyT At your age such follies are so quickly done that one hasn't time to interfere; but in a year's a different thing; by that time she w ill jilt yo u."

She—jilt, flirt; little HTI53J7"tnc[eecn"she, JNadinka! for shame, uncle! Whom have you lived with all your life, whom have you had to do with, whom have you loved, that you have such black suspicions ? "

" I have lived with men, I have loved a woman."

" She deceive me! That angel, that very embodiment of sincerity, a woman, whom it seems as if God had for the

first time created in all the purity and brightness "

^ " Still she is a woman, and is certain to deceive you."

1 ' Will you tell me next that / shall j ilt her ? "

" In time—yes, you will too."

" I! of people you don't know you can conclude what you like; but me —isn't it a sin in you to suspect me of such vileness ? What do you imagine me to be ? "

" A man."

" All are not alike. You must know that I, not in jest, but in all sincerity have given her a promise to love her all my life; I am ready to confirm it upon oath."

" I kaow, I know! No decent man doubts the sincerity of the vows he makes to a woman, but afterwards he changes and grows cooler, and does not himself know how. It does not happen intentionally, and there is no vileness in it, no one is to blame; nature does not allow of eternal love. And those who believe in eternal and unchanging love do just the same as those who don't believe in it, only they don't notice it and are unwilling to recognise it; we are above that, they say, we are not men, but angels—all folly!"

" But how is it there are lovers, married people, who love one another for ever and live all their lives together ? "

" For ever ! if a man's love last a fortnight, he is called fickle, but if for two or three years—at once you say it is for ever! Only consider what love is made up of and then you will see for yourself that it is not for ever! The ardour, the fire and fever-heat of that emotion prevent its being continuous. Lovers, married people, live together all their lives —no doubt! but do they love each other all their lives ? are they always in the bondage of their first love? are they seeking one another every minute, constantly gazing at each other, and can they never see enough of one another ? In the end what becomes of the little observances, the constant attention, the thirst to be together, the tears, the transport, all the passionate glances ? The coldness and awkwardness of husbands has passed into a proverb. 'Their love has turned into friendship!' every one says very seriously ; well then ! it's no longer love! Friendship ! And what is this friendship? A husband and wife are bound together by general interests, circumstances, then common fortunes, and so they live together; if it is not so, then they separate, make new ties—some more quickly than others; then we talk of fickleness ! But if they go on living together they come to live by habit, which let me whisper in your ear is

stronger than any kind of love; it is well called second nature ; except for it men would continue all their lives to suffer from separation from or the death of the beloved object, but you see they are consoled in time. Still the everlasting repetition—For ever, for ever!—they shout it without thinking."

" How is it, un cle^ th at jgfijxe not afraid on your ovn account? If follows that your wife too—forgive me—will deCtilVti J6\i ? ^ -

*I don't think so/'

" What vanity 1 * ~ " It isn't vanity, but prudence."

" Prudence again !"

" Well, foresight if you like."

" But if she falls in love with some one else ? "

" One must not let it come to that; but even if she were so misguided, with a little skill one might cool down her feelings."

" Is it possible ? is it in your power? "

" Very much so."

" All deceived husbands would have done so," said Alex-andr, " if there were any means."

" Not all husbands are alike, my dear boy : some are very indifferent to their wives; they don't pay attention to what is going on around them and they don't care to notice it; others would be ready to from vanity, but are poor creatures; they don't know how to set to work."

" How will you set to work ? "

"That's my secret; one could not instil it into you; you are in delirium."

Piotr Ivanitch was silent, and went on writing.

" But what a life!" began Alexandr; " not to forget yourself, but always to be thinking—thinking—no, I feel this is not so! I want to live without your cold analysis, not thinking whether trouble and danger are awaiting me hereafter or not, it's all the same ! Why should I think of it beforehand and poison "

"Why! I have often told you why, but he always comes back to his same point. Because when you foresee danger, obstacles, trouble, then you can more easily oppose them or endure them; you will not go out of your mind; you won't die; and when pleasure comes, you won't

be dancing about and smashing busts—is it clear ? One tells him—here this is the beginning, look at it, and judge by it of the end; but he covers his eyes and turns away his head just as though it were some bogy, and goes on living like a child. You would say—live day by day, as men lived sitting at their cottage doors, reckon your life by dinners, dances, love, and unchanging friendship. Always wanting the golden age! I have told you already that with your ideas it's well to stay in the country with your good lady and half-a-dozen children, but here one must work at a business ; this means that you must incessantly be thinking and remembering what you did yesterday, what you are doing to-day, so as to know what you must do to-morrow— that is to say, you must live with never-flagging control of yourself and your occupations. It is only in this way we

can attain to anything practical; and so But what's

the good of arguing with you—you are delirious for the present? Ah! it's just on the hour. Not a word more, Alexandr; go away, I will not listen; dine with me tomorrow; there will be some few people."

" Friends of yours ? "

« Y es —KonerT, Smirnoff, Fedoroff—you know them, and some few besides."

"Koneff, Smirnoff, Fedoroff! But these are the very people you have to do with in business."

" Why, yes; these are all indispensable people."

"So these are your friends? Certainly I have never observed that you received any one with special warmth."

" I have told you before that I consider as friends those whom I associate with oftenest, from whom I gain either profit or pleasure. I dare say ! Would you have me feed them for nothing ? "

"But I thought before your marriage you would take leave of your true friends, whom you love from your heart, with whom you would talk for the last time of your gay youth over the wine-cup, and whom, perhaps, you would press warmly to your heart on your separation."

" There, five of your words contain nothing that exists, or at least ought to exist, in life. With what transports your aunt would have thrown herself on your neck ! Of course there are ' true friends' wherever there is simply friendship and a * wine cup' whenever one is drinking out of bottles

F

and glasses, and embraces on separation when there is no separation at all. Oh, Alexandr!"

" Don't you feel regret at being separated, or at least seeing less of these friends ? " said Alexandr.

" No ! I never was so intimate with any one as to regret them, and I advise you to follow my example."

"So you will be here to-morrow?"

" To-morrow, uncle, I "

" What ? "

" I am invited to a country-house."

" The Lubetzkys, I suppose."

"Yes!"

" Ah! well, as you like. Don't forget your work, Alexandr; I shall tell the editor how you are spending your time."

" Oh, uncle, how can you! I will finish my abstract from the German economists without fail."

" First you had better read them. See, remember, don't come to me for ' contemptible money' as soon as you have quite given yourself up to ' soft emotions.'

i u

CHAPTER IV

Alexandr's life was divided into two halves. His official duties consumed the morning. He burrowed about in dusty deeds, pondered over facts in no way concerning himself, and reckoned on paper millions of money that did not belong to him. But at times his head refused to think for others, the pen dropped out of his hand and he was possessed by the "soft emotions" which made Piotr Ivanitch so angry.

Then Alexandr leant over the back of his chair and was carried in thought to a grassy peaceful place, where there were no papers, nor ink, nor strange faces, nor uniforms, where peace, sweetness, and freshness reigned, where in the luxurious drawing-room there was the sweet scent of flowers, and the sounds of a piano and a parrot hopping in his cage, and in the garden the waving branches of birch-trees and bushes of lilac. And the queen of all this— She.

In the morning, Alexandr, while he sat in his office, was present unseen in one of the islands, in the country villa of the Lubetzky's, but in the evening he was present visibly in his tangible person. Let us cast an indiscreet glance at his happiness.

It was a hot day, one of the few in Petersburg; the sun, which gave life to the fields, seemed to kill the streets in Petersburg, made the granite red-hot with its rays, and the rays, reflected from the stone, scorched the people. The people walked slowly, hanging their heads, the dogs with their tongues lolling out. The town was like one of those towns of story, in which everything has changed to stone at some magician's sign. No carriages rattled on the flags; the windows were covered with awnings like eyelids closed over eyes; the wooden pavement polished like paraquet; it burnt the foot to step on it. All around was weary, asleep.

The pedestrian wiping the sweat from his face made for the shade. Stage coaches with six passengers slowly crawled into the town, scarcely stirring up the dust after them. At four o'clock the government clerks came out from their offices and slowly plodded off to their homes.

Alexandr rushed out, as though the roof of the house was falling in, looked at his watch—it was late; he would not be in time for dinner. He flung himself into a restaurant

" What have you got, quick !"

" Soup julienne and k la reine; sauce k la provengale, k la maitre d'hotel; roast turkey, game, &c, sweet souffle."

"Well, soup h la provencale, sauce julienne, and roast souffle', only be quick! "

The waiter looked at him.

" Well, what is it ? " said Alexandr, impatiently.

The man hurried off and gave him what he thought fit Adouev) seemed very content. He did not wait for a quarter of the dishes and hurried off to a wharf of the Neva, and here a boat and two boatmen awaited him.

Within an hour he was in sight of the place of his hopes; hestood up in the boat and bent his gaze on the distance. Atfirst his eye was dimmed with anxiety and uneasiness, which passed into doubt. Then suddenly his face brightened with the light of happiness, like a beam of sunlight. He

distinguished a well-known dress at the garden fence; then he was recognised, a handkerchief was waved to him. He had been waited for perhaps a long time. His feet seemed burning with impatience.

" Ah! if only one could walk on the water!" thought Alexandr; " they invent all sorts of silly things, and they don't invent that!" The boatmen plied the oars slowly, evenly like a machine. The sweat stood in drops on their sunburnt faces; it was nothing to them that Alexandr's heart was leaping within him, that never taking his eyes from one point, he had already twice in his absorption moved first one leg and then the other up to the very edge of the boat; but they did not care; they went on rowing with the same phlegm, now and then wiping their faces with their sleeves.

" Quicker!" he said—" half a rouble for vodka!"

How they set to work, how they began to rise from their seats ! What had become of their fatigue ? how had they regained strength ? The oars seemed only to tremble in the water. The boat shot along, twenty yards in no time ! Ten strokes more, and the stern had already described an arc, the boat came up gracefully and turned into the very bank—Alexandr and Nadinka smiled from afar off and did not take their eyes off one another. Adouev leaped out with one foot in the water instead of on the bank, Nadinka laughed.

" Gently, sir, wait till I give you a hand," said one of the boatmen when Alexandr was already on the bank.

" Wait for me here," Adouev said to them, and ran to Nadinka.

She smiled tenderly at Alexandr from the distance. With every movement of the boat to the shore, her bosom heaved.

" Nadyezhda Alexandrovna!" said Adouev, almost breathless with delight.

" Alexandr Fedoritch I " she replied.

Involuntarily they rushed towards each other, then stopped short, and looked at one another with a smile and moist eyes, and could not say a word. A.few minutes passed thus.

Piotr Ivanitch could not be blamed for not having noticed Nadinka the first time of seeing her. She was not a beauty, and did not attract attention at once.

But if any one looked attentively at her features, he would not readily take his eyes off her. Her face rarely remained at rest for two minutes together. The thoughts and emotions of a nature impressionable and susceptible to excess, incessantly replaced one another, and the reflections of these emotions played, curiously mingled on her face, giving it every minute a fresh and unexpected expression. Her eyes, for instance, would flash like lightning, glow and suddenly be hidden under their delicate lids; her face would grow lifeless and motionless, and she would turn to a marble statue before your eyes. You would expect immediately after again the same piercing brillance—not at all! the eyelids would lift softly, and you would meet the mild light of eyes which seemed swimming in the splendour of moonlight. The heart could not but be stirred to a slight throb at such a gaze. In her gestures it was just the same. There was much grace in them, but a grace hardly sylph-like. There was much of the untamed impulsiveness in it which Nature gives. She sometimes sat in a picturesque pose, then suddenly, at the bidding of some inward impulse, this artistic pose would be broken in upon by some unexpected and equally bewitching gesture. In her conversation the same unlooked-for turns; now just criticism, now dreaminess and short answers, then a childish frolicsomeness, or subtle dissembling. Everything in her pointed to an ardent imagination, a wilful and inconstant heart. A much stronger man than Alexandr might have lost his heart over her, only a Piotr Ivanitch could have withstood her, but there are not many like him.

" You were waiting for me ! How happy I am ! " said Alexandr.

" I waiting for you? I never thought of it! " answered Nadinka, shaking her head:—"You know I am always in the garden."

" You are angry ? " he asked timidly.

" What for? what an idea !"

" Well, give me you little hand."

She gave him her hand, but he had scarcely touched it when she at once drew it away—and all at once changed completely. Her smile vanished, and on her face appeared something like vexation.

" What is that, are you drinking milk ? " he asked.

Nadinka had a cup in her hands and some sugar.

" I am having dinner/' she answered.

" You are dining at six o'clock, and on milk ? "

" Of course it is strange to you to look at milk after a luxurious dinner at your uncle's, but here we are in the country ; we live simply."

She broke off some bits of sugar with her front teeth and drank the milk, making a delicate grimace with her lips.

" I didn't dine with my uncle; I declined yesterday," replied Adouev.

" How shameless you are ! How can you tell such stories ? Where have you been up till now?"

" I have been at the office all day up till four "

" But now it is six. Don't tell fibs; confess, you were tempted by the dinner, by pleasant society ? There you have been enjoying yourself very, very much."

" On my word of honour, I haven't been to my uncle's." Alexandr began to defend himself with warmth. i( If I had, could I be here with you by now ? "

" Oh! does it seem so early to you ? you might have come here two hours ago !" said Nadinka, and all at once, with a quick pirouette, turned away from him and went along the little path towards the house : Alexandr was after her.

" Don't come near me, don't come near me," she said, shaking her hand; " I can't see you "

" Leave off teazing, Nadyezhda Alexandrovna."

"lam not teazing at all. Tell me, where have you been up till now ? "

" At four o'clock I got out of the office," began Alexandr; " I was an hour coming here "

" Then it ought to be five, but it is now six. Where were you that hour ? you see what stories you tell!"

" I had dinner at a restaurant as quick as possible."

" As quick as possible! only one hour!" she said. " Poor fellow! you must be hungry. Don't you want some milk ? "

" Oh, let me, let me have that cup," began Alexandr, holding out his hand.

But she stopped short all at once, turned the cup upside down, and paying no attention to Alexandr, looked with

curiosity at the last drops trickling out of the cup on to the dust.

" You are pitiless!" he said. " How can you torment me so?"

"Look, look, Alexandr Fedovitch," Nadinka suddenly interposed, absorbed in her occupation. " Shall I make a drop fall on the little beetle that is crawling here on the path ? .... Ah! it has fallen! Poor little thing, it will die!" she said; then carefully picking up the beetle, and laying it on the palm of her hand she began to breathe on it.

" What care you take of a beetle!" said Alexandr in vexation.

" Poor little thing! look, it will die," said Nadinka, in distress. " What have I done ? "

She carried the beetle a little while in her palm, and when it began to stir and to crawl about on her hand Nadinka gave a shudder, quickly threw it on the ground, and stamped on it, saying, " horrid little beetle !"

" Where have you been ? " she asked then.

" Why, I told you "

"Oh, yes, at your uncle's. Were there many people? Did you have any champagne ? Even from here I notice how you smell of champagne."

"Oh no, not at my uncled," interrupted Alexandr in despair. " Who told you so ? "

" You just said so."

" Why, I should think they are only just sitting down to his dinner. You don't know those dinner parties; would such a dinner be over in one hour ? "

" You have been dining for two hours—four till six."

" When was I coming here then ? "

She made no answer, but jumped up and picked a spray of acacia, then began to run along the path.

Adouev after her.

" Where are you going ? " he asked.

" Where ? What a question! To mamma."

" Why ? Very likely we shall disturb her."

" Oh no, not at all."

Marja^Mihgloynaa the mother, of Nadyezhda_ Alexaa-drovna, was one of those indulgent and simple mothers who trrink everything good that their children do. Maria

Mihalovna, for instance, would order the carriage to be got ready.

" What for, mamma ? " Nadinka would inquire,

" We will go out for a drive, it's such glorious weather," said her mother.

" How can we ? Alexandr Fedoritch is coming."

And the carriage would be put off.

Another time Maria Mihalovna would be sitting at work at her everlasting scarf and beginning to sigh, or be sniffing snuff and plying her bone knitting-needles, or else buried in the perusal of a French novel.

" Maman, why are you not dressing ? " Nadinka would ask severely.

" What for ? "

" Why, we are going for a walk, of course."

" For a walk ? "

"Yes. Alexandr Fedoritch will come after us. Have you forgotten already ? "

" Why, I didn't know."

" Not know indeed !" Nadinka would say in displeasure.

Her mother would leave her scarf and her book, and go to dress. So Nadinka enjoyed complete freedom and ordered herself and her mamma and her time and her occupations as she pleased. However, she was a kind and indulgent daughter—obedient one could not call her, for it was not she, but her mother, who obeyed; but at least one could say that she had an obedient mother.

" Go in to mamma," said Nadinka, when they had reached the door of the drawing-room.

"And you?"

" I will come afterwards."

" Well, then, I will come afterwards too."

" No, go in first."

Alexandr went in and at once retreated again on tip-toe.

" She is asleep in the armchair," he said in a whisper.

" Never mind, go in. Maman, maman I "

" Ah 1"

"Alexandr Fedoritch has come."

" Ah!"

" Mr. Adouev wants to see you."

" Ah!"

" You see how sound asleep she is. Don't wake her !" Alexandr restrained her.

" No, I will wake her. Maman I "

" Ah !"

"Wake up; Alexandr Fedoritch is here."

" Where is Alexandr Fedoritch ?" said Maria Mihal-ovna, looking directly at him and setting straight her cap, which had fallen on one side. " Ah, is that you, Alexandr Fedoritch? Glad to see you. Here have I been sitting and dropping off into a nap. I'm sure I don't know why, I suppose it's the weather. My corns too begin to shoot— there will be rain. I've been dozing, and in my sleep I thought that Ignaty announced some visitors, but I did not understand who. I listen, " are here," he says, but who I couldn't make out. Then Nadinka called and I woke up at once. I sleep very lightly; the least sound and I'm looking to see what it is. Sit down, Alexandr Fedoritch, how are you ? "

" Very well, thank you."

" How is Piotr Ivanitch ? "

" Very well, I thank you."

" Why does he never come to see us ? I was only thinking yesterday; he might, thought I, come over once sometime, but he never has—I suppose he is busy ? "

"Very busy," said Alexandr.

" And we didn't see you the other day!" continued Maria Mihalovna. " I had been awake a long while; I asked, where is Nadinka? They tell me she's still asleep. " Well, let her sleep," I said, the whole day in the open air, in the garden, the weather keeps fine, she's tired. At her age she sleeps soundly, not as I do at my time of life; such sleeplessness—would you believe—it grows quite a torment; my nerves, or something, I don't know. Then they bring me coffee; you know I always drink it in bed—and while I was drinking it, I thought: "what does it mean, we've seen nothing of Alexandr Fedoritch ? Can he be well ? " Then I got up, and I look; it's eleven o'clock—a pretty thing, on my word—the servants never told me. I went into Nadinka. She was still asleep. I woke her. " It's time, upon my word, my dear; it's nearly twelve o'clock, what's the matter with you ? " You know I am after her the whole day like a nurse. I sent away the governess on purpose to

have no strangers about. Trust strangers, they say, and God knows what they will do! No ! I undertook her education myself. I look after her strictly, she's never a step out of my sight, and I can say that Nadinka feels this; she doesn't even keep a thought secret from me. I seem to see right through her. Then the cook came up; I talked to him for an hour; then I read a little of the " Memoires du Diable .... ah ! what a pleasant author Sully is ! how agreeably he writes ! Then our neighbour Maria Ivanovna called with her husband; so I never noticed how the morning slipped away; four o'clock already and time for dinner! Ah, yes; why didn't you come to dinner ? we waited for you till five o'clock."

"Till five« o'clock?" said Alexandr : "I never can, Maria Mihalovna; my office work kept me. I beg you never to wait for me after four o'clock."

" Well, I said the same, but Nadinka kept on' let us wait a little longer, and a little longer !'"

" I ? Oh, mamma, how you talk! Didn't I say,' It's time for dinner, mamma,' and you said 'No, we must wait; Alexandr Fedoritch can't be far off; certainly he will be J

here to dinner.'"

"There, there!" said Maria Mihalovna, shaking her head; " oh, she's a shameless girl! she puts her own words into my mouth !"

Nadinka turned away, walked to the flowers and began to tease the parro,t.

" I said,' Well, where can Alexandr Fedoritch be now ?'" continued Maria Mihalovna " it's half-past four. ' No,' she said, ' we must wait, maman, he will be here.' I look again, a quarter to five. 'You may say what you like, Nadinka,' said I;' Alexandr Fedoritch has certainly gone to some friends, he will not come; I am getting hungry.' ' No,' she said, ' we must wait till five o'clock.' So she plagued me. Eh, isn't it true, miss ?"

"Popka, popka!" was heard from behind the flowers; " where did you dine to-day, at your uncle's ? "

" What; she has hidden herself!" her mother went on; " you see she's ashamed to face the light of day."

" Not at all," answered Nadinka, coming from the flowers, and sitting down at the window.

" And after all she wouldn't sit down to the table !" said

Maria Mihalovna: " she asked for a cup of milk and went into the garden; so she has had no dinner. What ? look me straight in the face, miss !"

Alexandr nearly fainted with happiness at this narrative. He looked at Nadinka, but she had turned her back on him and was tearing a leaf of ivy into little pieces.

" Nadyezhda Alexandrovna !" he said, " had I the happiness of being thought of by you ? "

" Don't come near me !" she cried, in vexation that her manoeuvres had been revealed. " Mamma is joking, and you are ready to believe her."

" But where are the berries that you had got ready for Alexandr Fedoritch ? " asked her mother.

" Berries ? "

" Yes, the berries."

" Why, you ate them at dinner," answered Nadinka.

" I! please to remember, my dear, you hid them aud would not give me any. 'You will see/ she said, ' Alexandr Fedoritch will come, and then I will give you some too.' What do you think of her? "

Alexandr looked shyly and tenderly at Nadinka. She blushed.

" She picked them herself, Alexandr Fedoritch," remarked her mother.

" What is all this you are inventing, maman ? I picked two or three berries, and you ate those yourself, and the rest Vassilisa "

"Don't believe her, don't believe her, Alexandr Fedoritch; Vassilisa has been in the town since the morning. Why make a secret of it ? I'm sure Alexandr Fedoritch will like them all the better for you're having picked them, and not Vassilisa."

Nadinka smiled, then disappeared again behind the flowers and appeared with a plate full of berries. She held out the plate to Alexandr. He kissed her hand and took the berries, feeling as if he had received a marshal's baton.

"You don't deserve them! to keep us waiting so long for you!" said Nadinka: " I stood for two hours at the trellis; only imagine ! some one came along ; I thought it was you and waved my handkerchief, and saw all at once it was a stranger, some officer. And he waved back, impertinent wretch!" .

In the evening guests arrived and went away again. It began to be dusk. The ladies of the house and Adouev were left again alone together. By degrees this trio too broke up. Nadinka went into the garden. Then an unequal duet was kept up between Maria Mihalovna and Adouev; she chatted at great length of what she had done yesterday and to-day and what she was going to do to-morrow. He became a prey to insufferable boredom and restlessness. The evening would soon be here, and he had not yet had an opportunity of saying a word to Nadinka by herself. The cook came to his rescue; the benefactor came in to inquire what to prepare for supper, and Adouev was more breathless with impatience than he had been before in the boat They had scarcely begun to discuss cutlets, a dish of curds, when Alexandr began to beat a skilful retreat How many manoeuvres he employed only to get away from Maria Mihalovna's armchair! To begin with, he walked to the window and looked out into the court Then with slow steps hardly able to restrain himself from running away at his utmost speed, he walked away to the piano, touched the keys here and there, took with feverish tremulousness some music from the desk, looked at it and laid it back : he even had the self-possession to sniff two flowers and wake up the parrot. Then he reached the utmost pitch of impatience ; the door was near, but to go out of it in any way seemed awkward—he had to stand still for two minutes and walk out as though casually. And the cook had already made two steps in retreat, another word more—she would be gone, and then Madame Lubetzky would be certain to turn to him. Alexandr could hold out no longer, and gliding like a snake out of the door, and jumping down the whole flight of steps without touching them, in a few strides he was at the end of the avenue—on the bank, near Nadinka.

" You remembered me at last!" she said then with mild reproach.

"Ah, what torture I have been enduring," replied Alexandr; "and you did not help me !"

Nadinka showed him a book.

"That's what I would have called you out for, if you had not come in another minute," she said.

" Sit down, maman will not come out now; she is afraid

of the damp. I have so much, so much I want to say to you. . . . ah 1"

"And I too . ... ah!"

And they said nothing or almost nothing, something or other they had talked of ten times before. Usually something like dreams, the sky, the stars, sympathy, happiness. Their conversation made more progress in the language of looks, smiles, and ejaculations. The book lay neglected on the grass.

Night came on—or rather no, for what a night! Are there such nights in Petersburg in summer ? It was not night; one ought to have some other name for it—as half-light. Everything around was at peace. The Neva seemed asleep; sometimes, as though in sleep, it splashed in a slight ripple on the bank and then sank into silence. And then from somewhere came a belated breeze, and was wafted over the slumbering waters but could not waken them, and only rippled the surface and fanned a little freshness on to Nadinka and Alexandr, or brought them the sound of singing far away—and again all was silent, and again the Neva was motionless, like a man asleep who at some slight sound opens his eyes for a minute and at once shuts them again; and sleep settles all the heavier on his eyelids. Then from the direction of the bridge is heard as it were distant thunder and immediately after the barking of the watch-dog from the angling place near, and again all was stilL The trees formed a dark dome above, and scarcely and noiselessly waved their branches. The lights at the villas twinkled along the banks.

What is the special charm that haunts the warm air on such nights ? What is the secret wafted from flowers, from trees, from the grass, and floating with such inexplicable tenderness into the soul? Why aTe the thoughts, the emotions conceived within the soul then quite other than those conceived among noise, among one's fellows ? But what a moment for love in this slumber of nature, in darkness, among the silent trees, the sweet breathed flowers and solitude ! How powerfully it all attunes the soul to reveries, the heart to these rare emotions, which in the ordinary, regular stern realities of life seem such profitless, injudicious and ridiculous irregularities .... yes ! profitless, and yet at these instants only the soul dimly apprehends the possibility

of a happiness which at other times it seeks so zealously and never attains.

Alexandr and Nadinka walked up to the river and leaned on the fence. Nadinka gazed long at the Neva, into the distance deep in thought, Alexandr gazed at Nadinka. Their souls were filled full of happiness, their hearts of a sweet and yet painful ache, but the tongue was silent.

Alexandr gently touched her waist. She gently pushed away his hand with her elbow. He touched her again, she repelled him more feebly, not taking her eyes from the Neva. The third time she did not repell him.

He took her by the hand—she did not take away her hand ; he pressed it; the hand answered his pressure. So they stood in silence; but what were they feeling!

" Nadinka!" he said softly.

She was silent.

Alexandr bent over her, his heart swooning with rapture. She felt his burning breath on her cheek, shivered, turned away and—did not run away in righteous indignation, did not scream! She had not the force to dissemble and run away; the power of love kept reason silent, and when Alexandras lips fastened on hers, she answered his kiss, though weakly, scarcely perceptibly. ^ "

" Oh, how happy man may be !" said Alexandr to himself, and again bent over her lips and stayed so for some seconds.

She stood pale, motionless, tears glittering on her eyelashes, her bosom panting violently and convulsively.

" It is like a dream ! " murmured Alexandr. Suddenly Nadinka started, the minute of oblivion had passed.

" What does this mean ? you have forgotten yourself," she said, flinging herself a few steps away from him. " I will tell mamma!"

Alexandr fell from heaven.

" Nadyezhda Alexandrovna, don't destroy my happiness with reproaches," he began; " don't be like "

She looked at him and all at once laughed aloud, gaily, went up to him again, and again stood at the fence and confidingly leaned her hands and her head on his shoulder.

" So you love me so much ? " she asked, wiping away a tear that had fallen on her cheek.

Alexandr made an indescribable motion of the shoulders.

In silence they looked as before at the water and at the sky and at the distance, as though nothing had passed between them. Only they were afraid to look at one another; at last they looked, smiled, and at once turned away again.

" Can there be sorrow in the world ? " said Nadinka, after a pause.

"They say there is," replied Adouev, thoughtfully, "but I don't believe it."

" What sorrow can there be ? " " Uncle says—poverty."

" Poverty! do the poor not feel as we do now; if they do, they are not poor."

" Uncle says that it's not so with them—they want to eat and drink."

" Ugh! eat! Your uncle does not tell the truth; they may be happy without that; I have had no dinner to-day, but how happy I am!" He laughed.

" Ah, at this minute I would give everything to the poor, yes, everything!" Nadinka went on, "only let the poor come. Ah ! why can I not comfort and delight every one with pleasure of some kind ? "

" Angel, angel! " Alexandr uttered rapturously, pressing her hand.

" Oh, how horribly you pinch me!" Nadinka interrupted suddenly, frowning and taking away her hand.

But he seized the hand again and began to kiss it with warmth.

" How I will pray," she continued, " to-day, to-morrow, always, in thankfulness for this evening. How happy I am! And you ? " >

Suddenly she grew thoughtful; there was a gleam of fear in her eyes.

" Do you know," she said, "they say that what has been once can never return again ! Can it be that this minute will never return ? "

" Oh, no," answered Alexandr, " it is not true; it will

return ! there will be happier minutes still; yes, I feel it! "

She shook her head incredulously. And his uncle's

lessons came into his head, and he came to a pause

suddenly.

" No," he said to himself, " no, that can never be! uncle knew nothing of such happiness, that is why he is so stern and suspicious with people. Poor fellow! I am sorry for his dry, cold heart: it has never known the intoxication of love; of course that's the reason of his jaundiced railings against life. God forgive him! If he had seen my bliss, even he would not have tried to destroy it, he would not have insulted it by his impure doubts. I am sorry for him."

" No, Nadinka, no, we will be happy I" he went on aloud. " Look round ; are not all things here rejoicing looking on at our love ? God Himself blesses it. How gaily we shall go through life hand in hand 1 We shall be proud, great in mutuallove 1'"

"Oh, stop, stop looking forward 1" she interposed. " Don't prophesy; I begin to be afraid when you talk so. And now I feel sad."

"What are you afraid of? Cannot you believe in yourself?"

" No, I can't, I can't!" she said, shaking her head. He looked at her and grew thoughtful.

" Why ? " he began again, " what can destroy this world of our happiness ? Who can interfere with us ? We will always be alone, we will withdraw ourselves from others; what have we to do with them ? and what have they to do with us ? They will not remember us, they will forget us, and then the rumours of sorrow and troubles will not trouble us, just as now here in the garden no sound disturbs the heavenly peace."

"Nadinka! Alexandr Fedoritch!" was suddenly heard from the steps, " where are you ? "

"Listen!" said Nadinka in prophetic tones, "it's an omen of fate; this minute will not return again—I feel it."

She seized his hand, squeezed it and looked at him somewhat strangely, mournfully, and suddenly rushed off into the dark avenue.

He stood alone musing.

" Alexandr Fedoritch!" sounded again from the steps, " the curds have been on the table a long while."

He shrugged his shoulders and went into the room.

"At the instant of ineffable bliss—all of a sudden

_r

curds!!" he said to Nadinka, " Will it be always so in life?"

" I only hope it won't be worse," she answered gaily; " curds are a very nice thing, especially for any one who has had no dinner."

Her happiness animated her. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes flashed with unwonted brilliance. How zealously she played the hostess, how gaily she. chatted! There was not a shadow left of the momentary glimpse of sadness.

The dawn was already filling half the heavens with light when Adouev took his seat in the boat. The boatmen in expectation of the promised reward, spit into their hands and were beginning to rise from their seats as before, plying the oars with all their might.

" Go slower !" said Alexandr, " another half rouble for vodka!"

They looked at him and then at one another. One scratched his throat, the other his back, and they began to row, scarcely moving the oars, hardly touching the water. The boat swam on like a swan.

" And uncle wants to convince me that happiness is a chimaera, that one cannot believe unreservedly in anything,

that life he is too bad ! Why does he want to deceive

me so cruelly? No, this is life! So I imagined it to myself, so it must be, so it is, and so it shall be! Otherwise it is not life!"

A soft morning breeze was lightly blowing from the north. Alexandr gave a little shiver, from the breeze and from his memories, then yawned and, wrapping himself in his coat, fell into reverie.

CHAPTER V.

Adouev had reached the zenith of his happiness. He had nothing more to wish for. His official duties, his journalistic work were all forgotten and thrown aside. They had already passed him over at his office ; he would not have noticed it at all, except that his uncle reminded him of

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98 A COMMON STORY

the fact. Piotr I van itch advised him to give up trifling, but Alexandr at the word "trifling" shrugged his shoulders, smiled compassionately and said nothing. His uncle, seeing that his representations were useless, also shrugged his shoulders, smiled compassionately and said nothing.

Alexandr obviously avoided him. He had lost all kind of trust in his gloomy prognostications, and feared his cold views of love in general and his offensive insinuations as to his relations with Nadinka in especial.

There was something of triumph, of mystery in Alexandr's deportment, his glance, his whole bearing. He behaved with other people, like some rich capitalist on Exchange with petty tradesmen, condescendingly, with consideration, thinking to himself, " poor creatures ! which of you is master of a treasure like mine ? which of you can feel like me ? whose mighty soul " and so on.

He was convinced that he was the only person in the world who so loved and was so loved. However, he not only avoided his uncle, but all the " herd" as he said. He was either worshipping his divinity, or sitting at home in his study alone, brooding over his bliss, analysing it, dissecting it to infinity. He called this creating a world of his ozvn, and sitting in solitude he certainly did create for himself a world of some kind out of nothing and lived for the most part in it, and he went to his office rarely and reluctantly, calling it—"a miserable necessity."

Behold him sitting in his armchair! Before him some sheets of paper, on which were carelessly jotted a few lines of poetry. He is either bending over the manuscript, making some correction or adding a few lines, or doubled up in the depths of his armchair dreaming. On his lips a smile is playing; it is clear that it is not long since they tasted the full " cup " of bliss.

All around is still. Only in the distance'from the great street is heard the rumbling of carriages, and from time to time Yevsay, weary of cleaning shoes, talking aloud to himself: " mus'n't forget; borrowed a ha'porth of vinegar some time ago at the shop and a penn'orth of cabbage, must pay it to-morrow, or the man, maybe, won't trust me again—such a cur as he is 1 Sell bread by the pound—like the famine year—it's a shame! Oh, Lord, I'm tired ! There, I'll just

1

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finish that boot—and then to bed. At Grahae they've been abed this long time, no doubt; it's very^HKerent from here ! When will the Lord grant I see "

Here he gave a loud sigh, breathed on the boot, and began again to polish it with the brush. He considered this occupation a most important one, and almost his sole ' duty, and measured the value of a servant and even of a man principally by his skill in cleaning boots; he cleaned them himself with a kind of passionate ardour. " Do • stop, Yevsay! you prevent me doing my work with your ' fooling!" cried Adouev.

" Fooling !" Yevsay muttered to himself; " it's not I but you that are fooling, and I am doing work. Just see how he's mudded his boots, one can scarcely get them clean." He put the boots on the table and looked lovingly at the brilliant polish on the leather.

" Get along ! polishing like that fooling !" he added.

Alexandr grew always more deeply buried in his dreams of Nadinka and then in his dreams of authorship.

There was nothing on the table. Everything which recalled his former occupations, his office duties, his journalistic work, lay under the table or in the cupboard or under the bed. " The very sight of such sordid things," he said, "frightens the creative impulse, and it takes flight like the nightingale from a thicket, at the sudden creaking of grating wheels on the road."

Often the dawn found him over some lyric. Every hour not spent at the Lubetzkys was devoted to composition. He wrote poetry and read it to Nadinka; she would copy it out on superfine paper and learn it by heart, and he experienced " the poet's highest bliss—hearing his own creations from beloved lips."

" You are my muse," he said to her; " be the Vesta of the sacred fire which burns within my breast; if you abandon it, it will die out."

Then he sent verses under noms-de-plume to the magazines. They printed them because they were not bad, in parts not without force, and all animated by ardent feeling, and the style was good.

Nadinka was proud of his love and called him " my poet"

" Yes, yours, yours. for ever," he added. Fame seemed

to smile before hiro, and Nadinka, he thought, would twine him the laurels to crown his brow, and then . . . . " Life, life, how fair a thing thou art! " he exclaimed. " And my uncle? He would destroy, he would corrupt my loving heart, he would pervert it."

And he avoided his uncle, did not go to see him for whole weeks, then months. And if when they did meet, the conversation turned on matters of feeling, he kept a contemptuous silence or listened like a man whose convictions cannot be shaken by any arguments. He considered his judgments infallible, his feelings and opinions unsuitable, and decided in future to be guided only by them, declaring that he was no longer a boy and why should he be bound by the opinions of others, and so on.

But his uncle was always the same; he never asked his nephew about anything and did not or would not notice his whims. He was as cordial with him as before, and lightly reproached him for coming so rarely to see him.

" My wife is angry with you," he said : "she was accustomed to regard you as a relation: we dine every day at home; you must come in."

But Alexandr rarely went in, for he had no time; in the morning at the office, after dinner till night at the Lubet-zkys ; night came, and at night he entered the " world of his own " he had created, and continued to create there. And besides it did him no harm to sleep a little sometimes.

In prose composition he was less happy. He wrote a play, two novels, some sketches and travels. His activity was amazing, the paper seemed to burn under his pen. His play and one of his novels he showed at first to his uncle and asked him to say whether they would do. His uncle read a few pages at random and handed it back, writing above—"It will do to light the fire !"

Alexandr was furious and sent them to the magazines, but they returned him both of them. In two places on the margin of the play was noted in pencil " not bad," and that was all. On the novel the following criticisms were often to be met with: " weak, untrue, unreal, tedious, not worked out" and so on, and at the end it was said "there is noticeable throughout an ignorance of the heart, an excess of fervour, unreality, everything stilted, no real human being in it—the hero is a monstrosity—such people don't exist—

unsuitable for publication! However, the author is not without ability; he must work!"

"Such people don't exist! " thought Alexandr, mortified and surprised—" not exist ? but I am myself the hero. Can I describe the common heroes whom one meets at every turn, who think and feel like the herd and do what every one else does—the pitiful characters in small everyday tragedies and comedies, not distinguished by any special stamp— is art to stoop to that ?"....

He invoked the shade of Byron, he called on Goethe and Schiller to confirm the truth of the literary doctrines he professed. He considered that a hero fit for a drama or a novel could be nothing else than some corsair, or great ,poet or artist, and he made them act and feel accordingly. ^ In one novel he laid the scene of the action in America; the mise en scene was extravagant; American scenery, mountains, and in the midst of all this an exile who had borne away with him his beloved. The whole world had forgotten them; they loved each other and nature, and when tidings were brought them of pardon and the possibility of returning to their native land, they refused. Twenty years after a European arrived there, came with an escort of Indians to hunt and found on a mountain a hut and in it skeletons. The European was the hero's rival. How beautiful this story seemed to him! with what delight he read it to Nadinka in the winter evenings! How eagerly she listened to him !—and to think of not taking such a novel!

Of this failure he did not speak to Nadinka; he swallowed the outrage in silence—and that was the end of it With a sigh he laid aside literary prose for some future time; when his heart should be beating more evenly, his thoughts would be more in order, then he promised himself to set to work properly.

Day after day passed by, days of uninterrupted blissful-ness for Alexandr. He was happy when he kissed the end of Nadinka's little finger, sat opposite her in a picturesque attitude for two hours at a stretch, not taking his eyes off her, sighing and melting with tenderness, or declaiming verses appropriate to the occasion.

Truth compels one to state that she sometimes met his sighs and verses with a yawn. And no wonder; her heart

was employed, but her mind remained quite unoccupied. Alexandr never exerted himself to give it food. /The year fixed for their .probation by Nadinka had passed: SFe~was~~ ^TTving'again with her mother at the same country villa, Alexandr began to speak to her of her promise, and begged permission to speak to her mother. Nadinka would have put it off till their return to town, but Alexandr insisted.

At last, at parting one evening, she gave Alexandr leave to speak to her mother the following day.

Alexandr did not sleep the whole night, and did not go to his duties. He kept revolving the next day in his head; he thought of everything he would say to Maria Mihalovna; he was composing his speech and preparing himself, but as soon as he recalled that it was Nadinka's hand that was in question, he was lost in dreams and again forgot everything. So he arrived at the house in the evening without having prepared anything; but it was not needed ; Nadinka met him as usual in the garden, but with a slight shade of pensiveness in her eyes, without a smile, and with a somewhat preoccupied air.

.<£You can't speak to mamma now," she said; "that horrid \y^ /Count is indoors."

^ --^CountJ whajr> in t? "

" Why, don't you know what Count! C ount Novinsky of course—our neig h bour,; thatJs hjs vi lla;" 110W fflimy tunes you have admired Tiis garden !"

" Count Novinsky! calling on you !" said Alexander, surprised ; " how did it happen ? "

"I don't know very well myself" answered Nadinka. I was sitting here and reading your book and mamma wasn't at home; she had gone to Maria Ivanovna. Then it begun to rain a little, I went indoors, all at once a carriage drove up, dove-coloured with white cushions, the same that is always driving by us—you admired it once. I look out and see mamma stepping out with a man. They came in; and mamma said, " Here, Count, this is my daughter; let me introduce you." He bowed, and so did I. I felt shy, I grew red and ran away to my room. But mamma—so horrible of her—I heard saying, * Excuse her, Count, she is such a wild thing'. ... So I guessed that it must be our neighbour Count Novinsky. I suppose he brought mamma in his carriage from Maria Ivanovna's, because of the rain."

u^

" Is he—an old man ! " asked Alexandr.

" An old man! what an idea! he's young, good-looking !"

" You had time then to see he was good-looking!" said Alexandr with annoyance.

" That's good! does it take long to look at any one? I just spoke to him. Ah ! he is very polite; he asked what I do; talked of music; asked me to sing something, but I didn't; I really can't sing a bit; next winter I shall certainly ask mamma to get me a good teacher of singing. The Count says it's all the fashion now, singing." All this was uttered with great vivacity.

" I thought, Nadyezhda Alexandrovna," observed Alexandr, u that next winter you would have other occupations besides singing."

" What occupation ? "

" What!" said Alexandr reproachfully.

" Ah, yes—did you come by boat ? "

He looked at her without speaking. She turned away and went into the house.

Adouev went into the drawing-room not altogether easy in his mind. What kind of man might the Count be ? How should he behave to him ? what would his manner be like— proud, or nonchalant ? He went in. The Count rose first and bowed politely. Alexandr replied by a stiff and awkward bow. Their hostess introduced them. The Count, for some reason, did not please him, but he was a handsome man— tall, well-made, fair, with large expressive eyes, and a pleasant smile. His manners were marked by simplicity, refinement, and a kind of softness. He seemed likely to attract everyone, but he did not attract Adouev.

Alexandr, in spite of Maria Mihalovna's invitation to sit nearer, sat in a corner and kept reading a book, which was ill-bred, awkward, and injudicious.

Nadinka stood behind her mother's armchair, looked with curiosity at the Count and listened to what he said; he was a novelty for her.

Adouev did not know how to conceal, that he did not like the Count. The Count did not seem to notice his rude ness; he was civil and turned to Adouev, trying to make the conversation general But it was all in vain; he was silent, or answered yes and no.

When Madame Lubetzky happened to mention his surname, the Count asked whether he was related to Piotr Ivanitch.

" My uncle !" replied Alexandr, briefly.

" I have often met him in society," said the Count.

" Very likely. What is there surprising in that ? " answered Adouev, shrugging his shoulders.

The Count concealed a smile, biting his lower lip. Nadinka exchanged a look with her mother, crimsoned and dropped her eyes.

"Your uncle is an intelligent and agreeable man!" remarked the Count in a tone of slight irony.

Adouev did not answer.

Nadinka could not put up with it, she went up to Alexandr, and while the Count was speaking to her mother, whispered to him:

"Aren't you ashamed? the Count is so friendly to you, and you "

" Friendly!" in his annoyance Alexandr answered almost aloud: " I don't want his friendship, don't say that again."

Nadinka darted away from him, and from a distance looked at him long and fixedly with wide-open eyes, then she took up her position again behind her mother's chair, and paid no further attention to Alexandr.

But Adouev kept expecting all the while that the Count would go, and that at last he would have a chance of speaking to her mother. But ten o'clock, eleven struck, the Count did not go, and kept talking.

All the subjects upon which conversation usually turns at the first stage of an acquaintanceship were exhausted. The Count began to make jokes. He did this cleverly; his jokes were not forced, affected, nor far-fetched; he had a power of interesting, a special aptitude for telling things humorously, so that not anecdotes only, but simply a piece of new?, an incident, or a serious matter he would turn into comedy by a single unexpected word.

Both mother and daughter were heartily diverted by his sallies, and Alexandr himself hid more than once an involuntary smile behind his book. But he was raging inwardly.

The Count talked of everything equally well and with tact—of music, of people, and of foreign countries. The

conversation turned on men and women; the Count was severe on men, himself among them, and subtly flattered women in general, paying a few compliments to the ladies of the house in particular.

Adouev thought of his literary pursuits, of his poetry. " There I should put him to shame," he thought. They began to converse upon literature; the mother and daughter commended Alexandr as an author.

" That'll take him down!" thought Adouev.

Far from it. The Count talked of literature as though he were exclusively devoted to the subject; he made a few just criticisms in passing on contemporary Russian and French writers of note. Further it appeared that he was on terms of friendship with the leading Russian literary men, and in Paris had been acquainted with several French celebrities also. A few he commented upon with appreciation, others he slightly caricatured.

Of Alexandra verses he remarked that he did not know them, and had not heard of them.

Nadinka looked rather queerly at Adouev as though inquiring: " What does that mean, pray ? You have not done much."

Alexandr's heart fell. His churlish and arrogant expression gave way to one of melancholy. He looked like a cock with bedraggled tail hiding from the storm under a shed.

Presently there was a clinking of knives and glasses on the sideboard, the table was set, but still the Count did not go. All hope vanished. He even accepted Madame Lubetzky's invitation to stay and have a supper of curds.

" A Count, and eat curds!" said Adouev, casting a glance of hatred on the Count.

The Count ate with appetite and continued to make jokes, as though he were at home.

" The first time he's in the house and eating enough for three, he's shameless! " whispered Alexandr to Nadinka.

" Why, he's hungry I " she answered simply.

The Count at last went away, but it was too late to talk of things then. Adouev took his hat and was hurrying off. Nadinka overtook him, and succeeded in pacifying him.

" Then to-morrow?" asked Alexandr.

" To-morrow we shan't be at home."

" Well, the day after to-morrow then."

They parted.

The next time Alexandr arrived rather earlier. While still in the garden an unaccustomed sound reached him from indoors—a violoncello—no, not a violoncello. He drew nearer. A manly voice was singing—and what a voice! Sonorous, tender, a voice that one would think would penetrate a woman's heart. It penetrated Adouev's heart, but in a different way; it grew faint, it ached with anguish, envy, hatred, and a miserable undefined presentiment. Alexandr went from the courtyard into the hall.

" Who have you here ? " he asked the servant.

" Count Novinsky."

" Has he been here long?"

" Since six o'clock."

" Tell your young lady that I have been and will come back again."

u Very well."

Alexandr went away and went wandering about the villas, not noticing where he was going. In two hours he returned.

" Well, is he still here?" he asked.

" Yes, and I think he will stay to supper. The mistress ordered roast woodcocks for supper."

" And did you give the young lady my message ? "

" Yes."

" Well, what did she say ? "

" She gave me no orders."

Alexandr went home and did not appear for two days. God knows what revolutions of thought and feeling he went through ; at last he went again.

He came in sight of the villa, stood up in the boat and, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand, looked before him. Yonder between the trees he caught a glimpse of the blue dress which fitted Nadinka so well; and blue was the colour most becoming to her complexion. She always put on this dress when she wanted to please Alexandr specially. A load seemed lifted from his heart.

" Ah ! she wants to make up to me for her past unintentional neglect," he thought; " it's not she, but I who am to blame ; how could I behave so unforgivingly to her ? that's only the way to set her against one; a stranger, a new

acquaintance; it's very natural that she as hostess "

J^Ah. ! here she comes out of the bushes from the narrow footpath, she is going to the trellis, there she will take her stand and wait for. . . ."

She did in fact go on into the great avenue .... but who is turning with her from the path ?

" The Count!" Alexandr cried aloud in dismay, hardly believing his eyes.

" Eh ? " ejaculated one of the boatmen.

" Alone in the garden with him,* muttered Alexandr— " just as with me."

The Count and Nadinka walked up to the trellis, and not looking at the river, turned round and walked slowly back to the avenue. He was bending over her, saying something in a low voice. She hung her head as she walked.

Adouev remained in the boat, open-mouthed, motionless, stretching out his hands to the shore, then he let them drop and sank into his seat. The boatmen went on rowing.

" Where are you going? " Adouev screamed furiously at them, when he had recovered a little. " Back again."

" Go back ? " repeated one of them, gazing at him open-mouthed.

" Yes, back; are you deaf? "

" But don't you want to go this way ? "

The other boatman began at once without speaking to row with his left oar alone, then pulled vigorously with both, and the boat was quickly darting along homewards. Alexandr pulled his hat down almost on to his shoulders and sank into gloomy meditation.

After this he did not go to the Lubetzky's for a fortnight.

A whole fortnight: what an age for a lover! But he kept expecting that they would send a servant to inquire what was the matter with him, whether he was ill, as this had always been done when he had been unwell, or perhaps had affected to be so. Nadinka at first would make such inquiries in her mother's name for form's sake, but afterwards, what did she not write on her own account ? Such tender reproaches, such fond anxiety! such impatience!

"No, now I will not make it up at once," thought Alexandr: •' I will punish her. I will teach her how she

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108 A COMMON STORY

ought to behave with strange men; the reconciliation shall not come too easily ! "

And he pondered harsh plans of revenge, dreamed of repentance, of how he would magnanimously pardon and lay down principles for the future. But till no servant was sent to him, no confession was brought; it seemed as though he no longer existed for the Lubetzkys.

He grew thin and white. Jealousy is more agonising than any disfinyy, espULlilliy^ealousy on suspicion without proof. When the proof is plain, then jealousy is at an end, and, for the most part, love itself as well; then at least one knows what to do, but until then it is torture ! And Alexandr experienced it to the full.

At last he resolved to go in the morning, thinking he would find Nadinka alone and have an explanation with her.

He arrived. There was no one in the garden, no one in the drawing-room and the parlour. He went into the hall, opened the door into the court-yard.

What a spectacle met him there! Two grooms, in the Count's livery, were holding saddle-horses. On to one of them the Count and a servant were mounting Nadinka ; the other stood ready for the Count himself. On the steps was standing Maria Mihalovna. She was looking on at this scene with a frown of anxiety.

"Sit firmer, Nadinka," she said, "For Heaven's sake, Count, look at her ! Ah ! I'm frightened, hold on to the horse's ear, Nadinka; you see what a wicked thing she is to coax me into it."

" Nonsense, maman? said Nadinka, gaily; " of course I can ride now—look."

She switched the horse, which sprang forward and plunged and reared.

" Ah, ah ! keep still !" shrieked Maria Mihalovna, waving her hand; " leave off, it'll be the death of you! "

But Nadinka pulled the curb and the horse stood still.

" You see how she obeys me ! " said Nadinka, stroking the horse's neck.

No one noticed Adouev. With a white face he looked at Nadinka without speaking, and as though in mockery of him, she had never looked so handsome as that moment. How well the hat with its green veil and the riding habit

became her I how well it defined her figure! Her face was animated by a shy pride and the delicious feeling of a new sensation. The colour came and went on her cheeks from delight. The horse plunged slightly and made the slender rider bow gracefully backwards and forwards. Her figure was shaken on the saddle like the stem of a flower quivering in the wind. Next the groom brought a horse up to the Count.

" Count! shall we go to the copse again ?" asked Nadinka.

" Again !" thought Adouev. " Very well," answered the Count. The horses were just starting.

" Nadyezhda Alexandrovna! " cried Adouev, suddenly, in a strange voice.

All stood still, rooted to the ground, as though they had been changed to stone and looked in perplexity at Alexandr. This lasted for a minute.

" Ah! its Alexandr Fedoritch !" said the mother, the first to recover herself. The Count bowed affably. Nadinka quickly drew her veil back from her face, turned round and looked at him with dismay, her lips parted, then she swiftly turned her back, switched her horse, who dashed forward, and in two bounds had disappeared through the gates; the Count followed her.

" Gently, gently, for Heaven's sake, gently !" screamed the mother after them—" hold on ! Ah ! Lord have mercy on us ! she'll be off to a certainty; what a frightful thing it is!"

And all was gone; only the sound of the horses' hoofs could be heard, and the dust^was thrown up in a cloud from the road. Alexandr remained with Madame Lubetzky. He looked at her without speaking, as though asking her with his eyes, " What does this mean ? " She did not keep him long waiting for an answer.

" They have gone," she said, " out of sight now! Well, let the young people amuse themselves, and I will have a little chat with you, Alexandr Fedoritch. But why has there been no sight nor sound of you this fortnight past; have you grown tired of us ? "

tl I have been ill, Maria Mihalovna," he replied, sullenly. " Yes, one can see you have; you're so thin and pale 1

no A COMMON STORY

Sit down directly, rest a little; but won't you let me tell them to cook some eggs, soft-boiled, for you ? it's a long time still till dinner."

" Thanks, I don't want anything."

" Why not ? they'll be ready in a minute; and they are capital eggs; the Finnish woman only brought them today."

" Oh, no, thank you."

" What's the matter with you ? I kept expecting and expecting you; what does it mean ? I thought; he doesn't come himself, nor send any French books? Do you remember, you promised me something: * Peau de Chagrin, 7 wasn't it ? I expect it and expect it. No ! is Alexandr Fedoritch tired of us, I thought; upon my word, he's tired of us."

" I'm afraid, Maria Mihalovna, haven't you grown tired ofme?"

"It's too bad of you to be afraid of that, Alexandr Fedoritch! I love you as though you were one of the family. I can't tell of course about Nadinka, for she's still a child; what does she know ? how can she value people properly ! Every day I kept repeating to her : ' Why is it, I wonder, Alexandr Fedoritch doesn't call, why doesn't he come ?' and I was always expecting you. Would you believe that I would not sit down to dinner every day till five o'clock. I kept thinking he's sure to come in. And Nadinka said sometimes: * What is it, maman ? whom are you waiting for ? I'm hungry, and so is the Count, I think.'"

"And the Count—has he been here often?" asked Alexandr.

" Yes, nearly every day, and sometimes twice in the same day; he is so kind, he has taken such a fancy to us. . . . 'Well,' said Nadinka, 'I want my dinner, and that's all about it! it's time to begin.' 'But since Alexandr Fedoritch,' said I, ' will be coming ?'"

"' He won't come,' she said, " would you like me to bet you a wager he won't? it's useless to wait." Madame Lubetzky stabbed Alexandr with these words as with a knife.

" She—she said so ? " he asked, trying to smile.

"Yes, that's just how she talked and hurried us. You know lam severe, though I do look good-tempered. I scolded

her: one time you're for waiting till five o'clock for him, and won't eat any dinner, and then you don't want to wait at all —you're absurd ! it's wrong of you ! Alexandr Fedoritch is an old friend of ours, he is fond of us, and his uncle, Piotr Ivanitch, has given us many proofs of his friendliness; it's not right to neglect people so 1 He is vexed, I daresay, and will not come "

" What did she say ? " asked Alexandr.

"Oh, nothing. You know how saucy she is with me, skips away, begins to sing, and runs off- or says, ' He'll come, jjf he wants to !' such an imp she is ! I too thought —he'll come! I look out, another day passed—and no sign of you! I said again, * What can it be, Nadinka, is Alexandr Fedoritch well ?' 'I don't know, mamanj she said,. * how can I tell ?' * Shall we send to find out what's wrong with him ?' We were going to send and going to send, and so we never sent; I somehow forgot it, left it to her, and she's so thoughtless.—See now how she's given herself up to this r iding! She saw the Count once on horseback from the ivtnaow and kept on at me, * I want to ride' and so on again and again ! I said this and that; but all of no use. * I want to!' Mad thing ! No, there was no riding on horseback in my young days ; we were brought up altogether differently ! But nowadays, shocking to relate, ladies have begun to smoke : over opposite us lives a young widow ; she sits on the balcony all day and smokes; people go by, and pass on horseback—she doesn't care! Sometimes in our days if there were a smell of tobacco in the drawing-room even from the men "

" Has it been going on long ? " asked Alexandr.

" I don't know, they say it's been in fashion the last five years : I suppose it's from the French "

" No, I asked; is it long since Nadyezhda Alexandrovna began to learn riding ? "

" Ten days about. The Count is so kind, so polite: what is there he isn't ready to do for us; how he spoils her! Look what heaps of flowers ! all from his garden. Sometimes I'm really ashamed. ' Why do you, Count,' I say,' spoil her like that ? there'll be no putting up with her soon!' and I scold her too. I have been with Maria Ivanovna and Nadinka to see his covered court. As you know, I look after her myself; who can see after a daughter better than

her own mother ? I myself undertook her education and though I say it who shouldn't—God grant every one such a daughter ! And Nadinka had her lessons in my presence. Then we breakfasted in his garden, and now they go riding every day. Ah! what a splendid house he has ! we went over it; all in such taste, so luxurious! "

" Every day ! " said Alexandr almost to himself. "Why not let her enjoy herself! I was young myself once."

" And do they go for long rides ? " " For three hours at a time. Come, and what has ailed you."

" I don't know; there was something wrong with my chest," he said, laying his hand on his heart. " Didn't you take anything for it ? " " No."

" There, these young people! they keep doing nothing, keep putting it off from day to day, and then take steps when it's too late ! What did you feel ? was it an ache or a griping or a rheumatic pain ?

" It was an aching and griping and rheumatic pain!" said Alexandr absently.

" That was a chili ; God forbid ! you mustn't let it go on, you'll kill yourself like that .... it might turn to inflammation of the lungs; and you took no medicine! Do you know what you must do? take some opodeldoc and rub your chest vigorously at night, and rub it till it's red, and drink a herb in your tea ; I will give you the receipt."

Nadinka returned pale with fatigue. She fell on to the sofa, almost fainting.

" Look at her! " said Maria Mihalovna, laying her hand on her head : " how tired you- are, you are half-dead. Drink some water and go and undress and unlace your corset. This riding will do you no good !"

Alexandr and the Count remained the whole day. The Count was invariably courteous and affable to Alexandr, invited him to visit him, to look at his garden, suggested that he should share their next expedition on horseback, offered him a horse.

" I can't ride," said Alexandr coldly. " Can't you ? " asked Nadinka, " and it is so delightful! Shall we go again, to-morrow, Count ? "

The Count bowed.

" That's enough, Nadinka," remarked her mother, " you are troublesome to the Count."

There was nothing, however, to show that any special relation had arisen between Nadinka and the Count. He was equally friendly to the mother and the daughter; he did not seek opportunities of speaking to Nadinka alone, did not follow her into the garden, and looked at her exactly as he did at her mother. The freedom of her intercourse with him, and the expeditions on horseback showed on her part the whimsicality and impulsiveness of her character, her naivety perhaps her want of experience, her ignorance of the conventions of the world, on her mother's part weakness want of foresight. The civilities and attentions of the lomihand his daily visits might be ascribed to the proximity oTtrie villas and the warm reception he always received at the Lubetzkys. This thing seemed natural, looked at with a simple eye; but Alexandr looked at it with a magnifying glass and saw much—oh ! much—which one would not see with the simple eye.

" Why," he asked himself, " had Nadinka changed to him ? " She did not wait for him now in the garden, she did not meet him with a smilej but with a look of dismay. For some time she had dressed with special care, there was no carelessness now in her manners. She was more guarded in her behaviour, as though she had become more sensible. Sometimes one caught a glimpse in her eyes and her words of something like a secret. What had become of her sweet caprices, her wildness, her sallies, her frolicking? It had all disappeared. She had become serious, thoughtful, silent. It seemed as though something were tormenting her. She was like all other girls now; she was as hypocritical, told the same lies, asked with the same interest after your health; was so continually polite and friendly for form's sake—to him—to Alexandr ! with whom ? Oh God! his heart sank.

" It is not for nothing, not for nothing," he kept repeating to himself, " there is something beneath it 1 But I will find out, come what may, and then woe to him."

And that day, when the Count had taken his leave, Alexandr tried to snatch a moment to speak with Nadinka alone. What did he not do? He took the book with

H

which she had once called him away from her mother into the garden, showed it to her, and went out to the bank of the river, thinking she would run out at once. He waited and waited—she did not come. He returned to the room. She was reading the book and did not look at him. He sat down near her. She did not raise her eyes, and then asked casually, in a superficial tone, was he busy with his literary work, had anything new come out? Of the past not a word.

He began to talk to her mother. Nadinka went out into the garden. The mother left the room and Adouev too rushed into the garden. Nadinka seeing him, rose from the bench, did not come to meet him, but went quietly by a roundabout way towards the house, as though to avoid him. He quickened his pace, she did the same.

" Nadyezhda Alexandrovna!" he shouted from the distance, " I should like to say two words to you."

" Come indoors ; it's damp here," she answered.

When she had gone in, she sat down again near her mother. Alexandr felt quite ill.

" So you are afraid of the damp air," he said with bitterness.

" Yes, the evenings are so cold and dark now," she replied with a yawn.

" We shall soon return to town," said her mother.

" May I trouble you, Alexandr Fedoritch, to go to our apartments and remind the man-in-charge to renew two locks on the doors, and the shutter in Nadinka's bedroom. He promised to do it, but he'll forget, depend upon it. They are all alike ; care for nothing but making money."

Adouev got up to go.

" Come and see us before long! " said Maria Mihalovna.

Nadinka did not speak.

He had already reached the door, when he turned round to her. She made three steps towards him. His heart throbbed.

" At last! " he thought.

" Will you be with us to-morrow ?" she asked coldly, though her eyes were bent on him with eager curiosity.

" I don't know; why? "

" Oh,. I only asked ; shall you come ? "

" Would you like me to ? "

" Shall you come to-morrow ? " she repeated in the same chilly tone, but with greater impatience.

" No ! " he answered with vexation.

" And the next day ? "

" No; I shall not come for a whole week, perhaps, two— a long while !" And he turned a scrutinising glance upon her, trying to read in her eyes what impression his words produced.

She did not speak, but her eyes dropped at the very instant of his reply, and what was to be seen in them ? Were they clouded with pain or flashing with a gleam of pleasure —nothing could be deciphered from that lovely marble face.

Alexandr clutched his hat in his hand and went away.

"Don't forget to rub your chest with opodeldoc!" screamed Maria Mihalovna after him. And now Alexandr had again a problem to solve—what was the aim of Nadinka's question ? what was to be inferred from it—desire or dread of seeing him ?

"Oh, what torture, what torture !" he said in despair. •Poor Alexandr could not hold out; he went on the third day. Nadinka was at the garden-fence when he arrived. He was beginning to rejoice, but no sooner had he drawn near the bank, when she, as though she had not seen him, turned away and after a few undecided steps on the path just as if she were walking without an object, went towards the house.

He found her with her mother. Two gentlemen from the town were there, their neighbour Maria Ivanovna, and the inevitable Count. Alexandr's sufferings were unendurable. Again the whole day passed in empty, useless conversation. How the guests wearied him ! They talked calmly of all kinds of trifles, argued, joked, laughed.

"They laugh!" said Alexandr: "they can laugh, while— Nadinka—has changed to me ! It's nothing to them! They are wretched, empty creatures; they are pleased with everything !"

Nadinka went into the garden; the Count did not go out with her. For some time he and Nadinka seemed to avoid one another in Alexandra presence. He sometimes came on them alone in the garden or indoors, but then they separated and did not meet any more in his presence. A

new dreadful discovery for Alexandr—a sign that there was an understanding between them.

The guests broke up. The Count too took his leave. Nadinka did not know this, and did not hasten indoors. Adouev left Maria Mihalovna without ceremony and went into the garden. Nadinka was standing with her back to Alexandr, leaning with her arm on the trellis and her head propped on her hand, just as on that never-to-be-forgotten evening. She did not see him and did not hear his approach.

How his heart beat, while he stole up to her on tiptoe! He could hardly breathe !

" Nadyezhda Alexandrovna!" he said, hardly audibly in his emotion.

She startled as though a shot had been fired off near her, turned round, and moved a step away from him.

" Tell me, please, what is that smoke there ? " she said in embarrassment, pointing with alacrity to the opposite side of the river, " is it a fire, or some furnace—in a factory ? "

He looked at her without speaking.

" Really, I thought it was a fire. Why do you look at me like that, don't you believe it?"

She broke off.

" You too," he began, shaking his head, " you too, like others, like every one !. .. . Who could have expected this, two months ago ? "

"What do you mean? I don't understand you," she said, and tried to go away.

" Stop, Nadyezhda Alexandrovna; I am not able to bear this torture any longer."

" What torture ? really I don't know."

" Don't dissimulate; tell me. Are you the same as you were ? "

" I am always the same ! " she said with decision.

" How ! haven't you changed to me ? "

" No; I think I am just as friendly with you; I am as glad to meet you."

"As glad! why, then, are you running away from the trellis?"

" I run away! see how you imagine things; I am standing at the trellis, and you say—I am running away."

She gave a forced laugh,

" Nadyezhda Alexandrovna, give up this pretence," continued Adouev.

"What pretence? what are you worrying me about?"

"Is this you? My God, six weeks ago, at this very spot!"

" What is that smoke on the other side, I should like to know."

" It's awful, awful!" said Alexandr.

" What have I done to you ? You left off coming to us— you must admit. There was no keeping you against your will," began Nadinka.

"That's all pretence! don't you know why I ceased coming ? "

She shook her head, looking away.

"And the Count?" he said almost menacingly.

"What Count?"

She made a face, as though she had heard of the Count for the first time.

" What Count! tell me now," he said, looking her straight in the eyes, " that you are indifferent to him ? "

" You are out of your senses!" she answered, stepping away from him.

" Yes, you are right!" he continued, " my brain is failing day by day. How can any one behave so artfully, so ungratefully to a man, who loved you beyond everything in the world, who had forgotten everything for you, everything .... who thought soon to be happy for ever, and you "

" Well, what about me ? " she said, still retreating.

" What about you ? " he replied, maddened by her coolness. " You have forgotten! let me remind you that here on this very spot you have vowed a hundred times to be mine. ' God hears these vows,' you said. Yes, He heard them ! You must feel shame before Heaven, and these trees and every blade of grass, every witness of our happiness: each grain of sand here speaks of our love; think, look at yourself !—you have broken your oath!"

She looked at him with horror. His eyes glittered, his lips were white.

" Ugh ! how spiteful you are ! " she said timidly, "what are you angry about ? I did not prevent you, you still did not speak to tnaman —why, you know best."

" Speak to her after this behaviour ? "

" What behaviour ? I don't know."

" What! I will tell you at once; what is the meaning of these interviews with the Count; these expeditions on horseback ? "

" What! should I run away from him when maman goes out of the room ! and the riding means—that I like riding —it's so delightful; you gallop—ah, what a dear creature that horse Lucy! have you seen her ?—she knows me already."

" And the change in your behaviour to me?" he continued; " why, the Count is with you every day from morning to night!"

" Ah, my goodness, do I know why ? how ridiculous you are ! maman wishes it."

" It's false! maman wishes what you wish. For whom are all those presents, notes, albums, flowers. All maman? "

"Yes, maman is so fond of flowers. Yesterday she bought from the gardener "

" And what is it you talk about in whispers ? " went on Alexandr, paying no attention to her words; look at me, you" are pale, you yourself feel your guilt. To ruin a man's happiness, forget, destroy everything so quickly, so easily, hypocrisy, ingratitude, lying and treachery!—yes, treachery! How could you let yourself come to this ? A rich count, a society lion, deigns to cast a glance of favour on you, and you were melted, you fell down before this tinsel god; where is your modesty !!! Let there be no more of the Count here," he said in a suffocating voice; " do you hear ? stop it, break off all relations with him, let him never And his way again into your house I won't have it."

He clutched her by the hand violently.

"Maman, maman! here!" shrieked Nadinka in a piercing voice, tearing herself away from Alexandr, and directly she was free making headlong towards the house.

He sat on the bench clutching his head in his hands.

She ran into the room pale and scared, and dropped into a chair.

" What is it ? What's the matter with you ? Why did you shriek ? " her mother asked in alarm, as she went to meet her.

" Alexandr Fedoritch—is unwell!" she could only just articulate.

"And what frightened you so ? "

'• He is so dreadful, maman ; for God's sake, don't let him come near me."

" How you frightened me, you mad thing. Well, what if he is unwell? I know his chest is bad. What is there dreadful in it? it isn't consumption! let him rub it with opodeldoc—it will soon pass off; it's evident he didn't obey me, he did not rub it."

Alexandr recovered himself. The delirium passed, but his tortures were redoubled. He had not cleared up his doubts, but had terrified Nadinka, and he certainly would not obtain an answer from her now; this was not the way to set to work. The thought came to him as it does to every lover : " How if she is not guilty ? it may be in reality she is indifferent to the Count ? Her thoughtless mother invites him every day; what is she to do ? He, as a man of the world, is attentive, Nadinka is a pretty girl; perhaps even he wishes to please her, but still it does not follow that he has succeeded in pleasing her. She perhaps is pleased with the flowers, the rides on horseback, and innocent recreation, but not with the Count himself ? And even let us admit that there is some coquetry in it; is not this pardonable? Other and older girls—God knows what they do."

He drew a breath, a ray of happiness shone in his soul. Lovers are all like this; now very blind, now too sharp-sighted. Besides, it is so sweet to defend the beloved object.

" But why the change in her behaviour to me ?" he suddenly asked himself and grew pale again. " Why does she avoid me, and why is she silent, as though she were ashamed ? Why was it yesterday, an ordinary day, she was dressed so smartly ? There were no guests, except him. Why did she ask if the ballets would soon be beginning ? " It was a simple question; but he remembered that the Count had airily promised to get her a box, however difficult it might be; consequently he would be with them. Why had sh« gone out of the garden ? why had she not come into the garden ? why had she asked this ? why had she not asked that ? "

And again he fell into grievous doubts and again suffered bitterly, and came to the conclusion that Nadinka had really never loved him at all.

"My God! my God!" he said is despair,

In a quarter of an hour he came into the room, downcast and apprehensive.

" Good-bye, Nadyezhda Alexandrovna," he said timidly.

11 Good-bye," she said shortly, not raising her eyes.

" When may I come again ? "

" When you please. However, we go to town this week; we will let you know thea"

He went away. More than a fortnight passed. Everyone had by then come to town. Aristocratic drawing-rooms began to be lighted up. And the petty official lighted two lamps on the wall in his drawing-room, bought two stones of wax-candles and set out two card-tables, in expectation of Stepan Ivanitch and Ivan Stepanitch, and announced to his wife that they would be at home on Tuesdays.

But all this time Adouev did not receive an invitation to the Lubetzkys. He met their cook and their maid-servant: the maid, directly she saw him, began hurrying away; it was clear that she acted in the spirit of her mistress. The cook stopped.

" Why is it, sir, you have forgotten us ? " he said, " and it's ten days already since we've been back."

" But perhaps you are not settled yet—you don't receive ? "

" How not receive, sir ; every one has been to see us already, except you; the mistress is always wondering about it. Now his grace is good enough to visit us every day. Such a kind-hearted gentleman! I went the other day with a copy-book from our young lady to him—he gave me a banknote."

" You idiot!" said Adouev, and turned on his heel away from the gossip. He went in the evening past the Lubetzkys. It was lighted up. A carriage was at the door.

? " he asked. Count Novinsk y* The next day ana the next it was the same thing. At last, one day he went in. The mother received him cordially, with reproaches for his absence, scolded him for not having rubbed his chest with opodeldoc; Nadinka—calmly, the Count—courteously. Conversation did not make much progress.

This happened twice. In vain he looked expressively at Nadinka; she did not seem to observe his looks, and how she had observed them of old ! Sometimes, when he was talking to her mother, she used to stand facing him and make faces at him from behind Maria Mihalovna, play tricks and make him laugh.

He was a prey to intolerable wretchedness. He thought of nothing but how to force himself from the bondage he had entered upon so light-heartedly. He wanted to obtain an explanation. " Whatever the answer was," he thought, "it would not matter, so long as doubt were changed into certainty."

He was a long while deliberating how to attack the matter; at last he made a plan of some sort and went to the Lubetzkys.

Everything was in his favour. That carriage was not at the door. He went quietly into the drawing-room and stopped a minute at the door of the inner room to take breath. Nadinka was there playing on the piano. At the further end of the room Madame Lubetzky was sitting on a sofa and knitting at her shawl. Nadinka, hearing steps in the outer room, went on playing more softly and stretched her head forward. She waited with a smile for the guest to appear. The guest made his appearance and instantly the smile vanished, and a look of dismay took its place. Her face changed a little and she rose from her seat. This was not the guest she was expecting.

Alexandr bowed without speaking and moved on like a shadow towards her mother. He walked softly without his old self-confidence, with hanging head. Nadinka sat down and went on playing, looking round restlessly now and then.

In half an hour the mother was summoned from the room on some matter or other. Alexandr went up to Nadinka. She rose and tried to escape.

" Nadyezhda Alexandrovna !" he said mournfully, " stay a little, spare'me five minutes—no more."

" I cannot listen to you," she said, moving away; " the

last time you were "

" I was to blame then. Now I will speak in a very different way; you shall not hear a syllable of reproach, I give you my word. An explanation is inevitable: you

know you gave me permission to ask your mother for your hand. Since that so much has happened—that—that I must repeat my request. Sit down and go on playing; your mother will hear less then; it's not the first time, you know "

She obeyed mechanically; with heightened colour she began to touch a chord and bent her eyes upon him in a tremour of expectation.

"Where have you gone, Alexandr Fedoritch?" asked mother, returning to her place.

" I wanted to have a little talk with Nadyezhda Alexan-drovna—about—literature," he answered.

" Well, do by all means; indeed, it's a long time since you have had a talk together."

"Answer me briefly and sincerely, one question only," he began in an undertone, "and our explanation will be over directly. You no longer love me ? "

" Quelle idee 1 " she answered in confusion; you know how maman and I have always valued your friendship— how glad we always have been to see you."

Adouev looked at her and thought il Are you that capricious but sincere child ? that freakish, frolicsome creature ? How quickly she has learnt to dissemble! how soon the feminine instincts have awakened in her ! Can it be that her sweet caprices were the germs of dissimulation and hypocrisy ? .... to think, even without my uncle's method, how quickly this girl has been trained into a woman ! and all the Count's training, and all in some two or three months! Oh, uncle, uncle ! here again you are only too right."

11 Listen," he said in such a voice, that the mask of dissimulation dropped off, " let us leave mamma out of the question : be for an instant the Nadinka of old days when you loved me a little, and answer me straight out; I must know, by God, I must."

She did not speak, but changing the music before her, began mechanically to look at it and play a difficult passage.

" Very well, I will alter my question," continued Adouev ; " tell me, has not some one—I do not even ask who—but simply has not some one supplanted me in your heart ?"

She snuffed the candle and was a long while setting the wick straight, but she did not speak.

"Answer, Nadyezhda Alexandrovna; one word will release me from torture and you—from an unpleasant explanation."

" Ah, for God's sake, leave off! What am I to say to you ? I have nothing to say !" she answered, turning away from him.

Another man would have been satisfied with such a reply, and would have seen that there was no need to trouble himself further. He would have understood everything from the unspoken anguish written on her face and expressed in her gestures. But Adouev was not content He was like an executioner torturing his victim, and was himself animated by a kind of wild despairing desire to drink the cup once for all and to the dregs.

" No !" he said, " let us put an end to this torture to-day; doubts, one blacker than another, are distracting my mind and tearing my heart to pieces. I have suffered agony; I believe my heart will break with the strain .... I cannot feel convinced of my suspicions; you must resolve it all yourself, or I shall never be at rest."

He looked at her and waited for an answer. She did not speak.

" Have pity on me !" he began again—" look at me; am I like myself? every one is frightened of me, no one recognises me—every one pities me—except you."

It was true; his eyes glowed with a strange fire. He was thin, and white; the perspiration stood in large drops onliis bWw:

She looked stealthily at him and there was something like sympathy in her eyes. She even took his hand, but let it fall directly with a sigh, and still she did not speak.

" Well ?" he asked.

" Ah ! leave me in peace !" she said in a tone of anguish, "you torture me with your questions."

" I beseech you, for God's sake!" he said, " make an end of all with one word. Of what use is concealment to you ? I cannot get rid of a foolish hope, I will not

leave off, I will come to you every day, pale, distracted

I shall bring you misery. Forbid me the house, I will linger under your windows, will meet you at the theatre, in the street, everywhere, like a ghost. All this is foolish, laughable very likely—to any one who can laugh—but it is

agonizing to me! You don't know what passion is—what it leads to! God grant you may never find out! . . . . What is the good of it ? wouldn't it be better to speak at once ? "

"But what are you asking me about?" said Nadinka, throwing herself back in her chair. " I am utterly bewildered—my head is in a fog."

She pressed her hand spasmodically to her forehead and withdrew it again at once.

" I ask you—has some one taken my place in your heart ? one word—yes or no—will decide everything; will it take long to say it ? "

She tried to say something but could not, and dropping her eyes struck a note with one finger. One could see that there was a violent struggle going on within her. " Ah !" she groaned at last in anguish. Adouev wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.

"Yes or no?" he repeated, holding his breath.

Some seconds passed.

" Yes or no ? "

" Yes!" whispered Nadinka, hardly audibly, then bent over the piano, and, as though unconsciously, began to strike some loud chords.

This yes was a scarcely perceptible sound, like a sign, but it stunned Adouev; his heart seemed torn, his limbs shook beneath him. He dropped into a chair near the piano and said nothing.

Nadinka looked at him in alarm. He gazed senselessly at her.

"Alexandr Fedoritch!" shrieked her mother suddenly from her room, "which of your ears is tingling?"

He did not answer.

" Maman is asking you a question," said Nadinka.

" Eh ? "

" Which of your ears is tingling ? " cried the mother— " quick 1 »

" Both! " Adouev uttered gloomily.

u Your'e wrong—it should be the left! And I have been foretelling the future, and whether the Count will be here to-day."

" The Count!" ejaculated Adouev.

"Forgive me!" said Nadinka, in a voice of entreaty,

turning towards him. "I don't understand myself—-this has all happened without my foreseeing it ... . against my will .... I don't know how .... I could not deceive you."

"I will keep my word, Nadyezhda Alexandrovna," he replied, " I will not utter a single reproach to you. Thank you for your sincerity .... you have done much .... much —to-day .... it was hard for me to hear that ' yes,' but it was still harder for you to say it ... . Farewell; you will not see me again; it's the only return I can make for your honesty .... but the Count, the Count! "

He ground his teeth and walked to the door.

" Ah," he said, turning back, " what will this bring you to ? The Count will not marry you; what are his intentions ? "

" I don't know!" answered Nadinka, shaking her head mournfully.

" My God! how blind you are!" cried Alexandr with horror.

" He can have no bad intentions," she replied in a weak voice.

u Take care of yourself, Nadyezhda Alexandrovna 1"

He took her hand, kissed it, and with uneven steps went from the room. It was dreadful to look at him. Nadinka remained motionless in her place.

^ Why are you not playing, Nadinka?" asked her mother in a few minutes.

" Directly, maman 1 " she replied, and with her head bent pensively on one side, began uncertainly to touch the keys. Her fingers weretrembling. She was evidently suffering from th&"prfeks o? conscience and from the doubt flung at her in the words " Take care of yourself." When the Count arrived, she was silent and depressed; and there was some constraint in her manner. On the pretext of a headache she went early to her room. And that night life seemed a sorrowful thing to her.

Adouev had scarcely got down the staircase when his strength failed him, he sat down on the last step, covered his eyes with his handkerchief and broke into loud tearless sobs. The hall-porter was passing near the vestibule afrthe time. He stood still and listened.

" Marfa, Marfa !" he called, going up to the dirty door,

"come here, listen, how some one is groaning like an animal. I thought it might be our dog escaped from her chain, but no, it's not."

" No,it's not the dog!" repeated Marfa listening. "What a strange thing!"

" Come and bring a lantern; it hangs there behind the stove."

Marfa brought the lantern.

" Is he still groaning ? " she asked.

" Yes! could some tramp have got in ? "

" Who is there ? " asked the porter.

No answer.

" Who is there ? " repeated Marfa.

Still the same sound. They both went off quickly. Adouev rushed away.

" Ah, it was some gentlemen," said Marfa, looking after him, " and you thought it was a tramp ! There, it's just what was on the tip of my tongue to say! Would a tramp be groaning in other people's passages ? "

" Weil, he must have been drunk then."

" That's better still! " answered Marfa; " do you suppose every one's like vou? it's not every one groans like you when he's drunk ? "

" Then why was it—from hunger or what ? " remarked the porter with vexation.

" Why 1" said Marfa looking at him and not knowing what to say, "how can one tell, he had lost something, perhaps—money."

They both squatted down at once and began to search with the lantern on the ground in every corner.

" Lost something!" repeated the porter, as he turned the light on the ground, "where could he lose anything here? the staircase is clean and made of stone, you could see a needle here—lost something indeed! We should have heard if he had lost anything; it would have tinkled on the ground; of course he would have picked it up ! where could one lose anything here ? There is nowhere ! Lost something ! He didn't lose anything ; was he likely to have lost something? lose anything—I daresay! no; he'd be more likely, you depend upon it, to find a way of putting things in his pocket instead of losing them! I know them, the pickpockets! lost indeed ! where did he lose it?"

And they spent a long time crawling on the ground, looking for the lost money.

" No, no," said the porter at last with a sigh, then he put out the light, and pinching the wick with two fingers wiped them on his coat

CHAPTER VI.

That evening at twelve o'clock, when Piotr Ivanitch, with a candle and book in one hand, while he held his dressing-gown off the ground with the other, went from his study into his bedroom to go to bed, his valet informed him that Alexandr Fedoritch wished to see him.

Piotr Ivanitch knitted his brows, thought a minute, and then said calmly: " Take him into the study; I will come at once/'

Returning there, he greeted his nephew with " Good evening, Alexandr, it's a long time since we have seen you. We have given up expecting you by day, and here all at once you burst on us at night! Why so late ? But what's wrong with you ? you are quite pale."

Without answering a. iVoi'cT, Alexandr sat down in an armchair in extreme exhaustion. Piotr Ivanitch looked at him with curiosity.

Alexandr sighed.

" Are you well ? " asked Piotr Ivanitch, anxiously.

" Yes," replied Alexandr in a feeble voice, " I move, I eat, I drink, and therefore I am well."

" Don't make light of it though; consult a doctor."

" Other people have already given me that advice, but no doctors or opodeldocs can be of use to me; my disease is not physical."

" What is the matter with you ? You haven't been gambling, or lost money ? " asked Piotr Ivanitch with lively interest

"You can never imagine trouble apart from money matters I" replied Alexandr, trying to smile.

" What is the trouble then ? Everything is all right at your home—I know that from the letters to which your mother treats me every month; at the office nothing can be

worse than it was; then come trifling matters—love, I suppose."

" Yes, love; but do you know what has happened ? when you know you will be horrified."

" Tell me; it's a long while since I've been horrified," said his uncle, taking a seat; " however, it's not difficult to conjecture; no doubt, they have deceived you "

11 You can reason so calmly, uncle, while I " said

Alexandr, " am suffering in earnest; I am wretched, I am really ill."

" Is it possible that you have grown so thin thro ugh love ? What a disgraceful thing ! No, yuiTTiave been iH,"and iTo"W you are beginning to recover; and it's high time ! Seriously, this folly had been dragging on for a year and a half. A little longer, and upon my word, I should have begun to believe in eternal and unchanging love."

" Uncle !" said Alexandr, " have pity on me; there is a hell now in my heart."

" Eh ? what then ? "

Alexandr drew his armchair up to the table and his uncle began to move away from his nephew's proximity the inkstand, the paper-weights, &c.

" He comes at midnight," he thought, " hell in his heart; he'll infallibly smash something."

" Sympathy I don't get from you, and I don't ask it," began Alexandr; "I ask for your help, as my uncle, my relation I seem foolish to you—isn't it so ? "

" Yes, you would, if you were not to be pitied."

" You feel pity for me ? "

"Great pity. Do you suppose I am a flint? A good, clever, well brought-up boy, throwing himself away and what for ? a mere trifle."

" Show me that you feel for me."

" In what way ? Money, you say, you don't want."

" Money ! oh, if my trouble had been only from want of money, how I would have blessed my fate !"

" Don't speak so," observed Piotr Ivanitch seriously; "you are a boy—you would curse and not bless your fate! I have cursed it more than once in bygone days— even I!"

" Give me a patient hearing."

" Shall you be staying long ? " asked his uncle.

" Yes, I want all your attention; why ? "

" So as to know whether we shall want to have supper. As a rule I am in the habit of going to bed without supper; but now, since we shall be sitting up a long while, we will have a little, and will drink a bottle of wine, and meantime you tell me everything."

"You can eat supper?" asked Alexandr in amazement

" Yes, indeed I can ; and won't you ? "

" I—supper ! why, even you will not be able to swallow a morsel when you know that it is a matter of life and death."

" Of life and death ? " repeated his uncle; " well, that is certainly a grave matter; however, we will try; perhaps we shall manage to swallow some."

He rang the bell.

" Bring in," he said to the valet who appeared, " whatever there is for supper, and tell them to fetch a bottle of Lafitte with a green seal."

The valet disappeared.

" Uncle! you are not in a suitable frame of mind to listen to the sad story of my unhappiness," said Alexandr, taking his hat: " I had better come to-morrow."

" No, no, not at all," interrupted Piotr Ivanitch briskly, keeping his nephew by the hand, " I am always in the same frame of mind. To-morrow—not a doubt of it—you will break in upon breakfast, or worse still—on business. It would be far better to have it all over at once. Supper will not hinder matters. I shall hear and understand all the better. On an empty stomach, you know, it's not well "

They brought in supper.

" Now, Alexandr; let me " said Piotr Ivanitch.

" No, I don't want anything to eat, uncle!" said Alexandr impatiently, shrugging his shoulders, as he saw his uncle busying himself over the supper.

" At least drink a glass of wine; it's not bad wine!"

Alexandr shook his head in refusal.

" Well, then, take a cigar and tell your story, and I will be all ears," said Piotr Ivanitch, setting briskly to work upon his supper.

" Do you know C ount N ovinsky ? " asked Alexandr, after a short pause.

1

" Count Platon ? "

" Yes."

" We are friends; why ? "

" I congratulate you on such a friend—he's a scoundrel!"

Piotr Ivanitch at once ceased munching and gazed in surprise at his nephew.

11 What a discovery !" he said; " do you know him ? "

" Very well."

" Have you known him long ? "

" Three months."

" How is that ? I have known him for five years, and always considered him an honourable man, and indeed you

will not hear from any one All praise him, but you run

him down."

" Is it long since you have taken to standing up for people, uncle ? In the past it used to be "

"Even in the past I always stood up for honourable men."

" Show me where there are any honourable men ? " said Alexandr scornfully.

" Why, such as you and I; in what are we not honourable ? The Count—if the talk of him can be believed—is also an honourable man ; still, who knows ? there is something bad in every one; but all men are not bad."

" Yes, all, all!" said Alexandr with decision.

" How about you ? "

" I ? I at least bear away from the world a heart broken but unstained from baseness, a spirit shattered but free from the reproach of lying, hyprocrisy, treachery; I am not corrupted."

" So much the better; come, let us see. What has the Count done to you ? "

" What has he done ? He has robbed me of everything."

"Be more precise. By the word everything one may understand God knows what all—money, for instance; he is not doing that."

" Of what is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world," said Alexandr.

" What might this have been ? "

" Everything—happiness, life."

" Here you are alive!"

•x

A COMMON STORY 131

" More's the pity—yes! But this life is worse than a hundred deaths."

11 Tell me straight out what has happened."

" It's awful!" exclaimed Alexandr, " My God! my God!"

" I have it! hasn't he enticed your charmer away from you—that—what's-her-name ? Oh yes ! he's masterly at it; it would be hard for you to compete with him. Oh, the rascal!" said Piotr Ivanitch, raising a piece of turkey to his mouth.

" He shall pay dearly for his masterliness 1" said Alexandr, fuming. " I am not going to give way without a

struggle Death shall decide which of us is to gain

Nadinka. I wiU cal l out this v ulgar gallantj he shall not live, he shall noFenjoy the treasure Tie tias^robbed me of. I will wipe him off the face of the earth !"

Piotr Ivanitch began to laugh.

" Oh, the provinces! " he said; " a propos of the Count, Alexandr, did he say whether they had sent him the china from abroad? He ordered the set in the spring; I should like to have a look at "

" We are not talking about china, uncle; did you hear what I was saying ? " interrupted Alexandr severely.

" Hm ! " his uncle mumbled in assent, picking a small bone.

" What do you say ? "

" Oh nothing. I am listening to what you are saying."

"Answer me one word; will you do me the greatest service ? "

"What is it?"

A " Will you consent to be my second ? "

I"

The cutlets are quite cold!" remarked Piotr Ivanitch with annoyance, pushing away the dish,

"You are smiling, uncle?"

Well; how is one to listen to such stuff: you ask for a second ? "

" What is your answer ? "

" It's a matter of course; I will not come."

" Very well; some one else shall be found, some outsider, who will come to my aid in this bitter wrong. I only ask you to take the trouble to communicate with the Count to learn what conditions."

.y

132 A COMMON STORY

" I cannot, I could not bring my tongue to propose such an imbecility to him. ,,

" Then good-bye ! " said Alexandr, taking his hat.

"What! are you going already? and won't you have any wine ? "

Alexandr walked to the door, but he sank down on a chair near the door in utter exhaustion.

" Whom can I go to ? whose help can I get ? " he said in a low voice.

"Listen, Alexandr?" began Piotr Ivanitch, wiping his lips with a napkin and moving an armchair to his nephew. " I see that I must talk to you in earnest. Let us talk it over. You have come to me for assistance; I will assist you, only not in the way you imagine, and on condition—that you be guided by me. Don't ask any one to be your second; there will be no use in it. For a trifle you will make a scandal, it will be spread about everywhere, people will laugh at you, or worse still, make use of it to injure you. No one will consent, but even if some madman could be found to second you, it would be all for nothing. The Count will not fight; I know him."

" Not fight! is there no grain of manliness in him ?" observed Alexandr with bitter malice; " I should not have suspected he was as base as that!"

" He is not base, but only sensible."

" Tell me with whom are you chiefly angry—with the Count, or with her—what's-her-name—Anuta, is it ? "

" I hate her, I despise her," said Alexandr.

" Let us begin with the Count; let as suppose that he accepts your challenge, let us even suppose that you find a fool to second you—what will come of it ? The Count will kill you, like a fly, and every one will laugh at you afterwards ; a fine revenge. Let us even suppose that you did by some accident kill him—what sense is there in it ? would you bring back your charmer's love by that? No, she would only hate you for it, and besides, they would send

you for a soldier And what is the chief consideration;

you would tear your hair in despair at your behaviour another day and would quickly have grown cold to. your charmer. Is she the only one in the world—your Maria or Sophia—what's-her-name ? "

" They call her Nadyezhda."

" Nadyezhda ? then who is Sophia ? "

" Sophia 1 oh, that was in the country," said Alexandr reluctantly.

" Do you see ? " continued his uncle, " there it was Sophia, here it's Nadyezhda, somewhere else it will be Maria. The heart is a very deep well; it's a long while before you sound it to the bottom. It goes on loving till old age."

" No, the heart loves once."

" And you go on repeating what you have heard from others. The heart goes on loving as long as its strength is not all spent. It lives its life and also, like everything else in man, has its youth and its old age. If one love has failed, it only dies away, and is still until the next; if a second time it's thwarted, it still has the power, so long as its love is unavailing, to love again for a third and a fourth time, until at last the heart puts all its strength into some one happy union, when nothing thwarts it, and then it slowly and gradually grows cold. With some men love was successful the first time, so they go crying out that one can love once only. So long as a man is in good health and not in decrepitude "

"You always talk of youth, uncle, meaning, of course, material love."

" I talk of youth because love in old age is a blunder, an abnormality. And how about material love ? There is no such love, or rather it is not love, just as there is no love purely ideal. Where was I ? .... oh, you'd been sent for a soldier; besides this, after this scandal your charmer wouldn't allow you in her sight. You would have injured her and yourself too for nothing—do you see ? I hope we have worked out this question conclusively on one side. Now "

Piotr Ivanitch poured himself out some wine and drank it.

"What a blockhead!" he said, "he has sent up cold Lafitte."

Alexandr sat in silence with drooping head.

" Now, tell me," continued his uncle, warming the glass of wine with both hands, " why did you want to wipe the Count off the face of the earth ? "

" I have already told you why; has he not blasted my happiness ? He has pounced like a wolf "

/

134 A COMMON STORY

" On the fold !" put in his uncle. " He has robbed me of all," Alexandr went on. " He has not robbed; he only came and took it. Was he bound to inquire whether your charmer was taken or not ? I don't understand that absurdity of which lovers have been guilty from the creation of the world—that of getting angry with a rival. Can anything be more senseless—wipe him off the face of the earth! why ? because he is found agreeable ! But was your—what's her name ?—Katinka— averse to him ? She yielded of herself, she has ceased to love you—it's useless to quarrel—you won't bring her back! -And to insist—is egoism ! To demand fidelity from a wife —there is some sense in that; in that case an obligation has been entered into ; the essential welfare of the family often depends on it; but even then one can't demand that she should not love any one—you can only demand that she— hm, well .... And haven't you yourself done everything you could to give her away to the Count ? Have you made any fight for her ? "

"Why, here I am wanting to fight," said Alexandr, jumping up from his place, " and you would put a stop to

my honourable impulse "

" Fight with a cudgel in your hand, I daresay!" interrupted his uncle; " the civilised world has other weapons. You ought to have fought a duel of another kind with the Count before the beauty's eyes."

Alexandr looked in perplexity at his uncle. " What kind of duel ? " he asked.

" I will tell you directly. How have you acted up till now?"

Alexandr, with a great deal of circumlocution, in chaotic fashion, told him the whole course of the affair.

"Do you see? it is you who have been to blame in everything all round," was Piotr Ivanitch's comment after listeniqg with a scowl. " How many stupid things you have done ! Ah, Alexandr, what evil genius brought you here ! it wasn't worth while for you to come. You might have been doing all these things at home, by the lake, with your aunt. Ah, how can any one be so childish—make scenes— fly into a fury ? fie ! Who does these things nowadays ? What if your—what's-her-name—Julia—tells it all to the Count ? But no, there is no danger of that, thank goodness.

She's so sensible of course, that in answer to his questions about your relations she has said "

4 'What has she said ?" asked Alexandr, hastily.

" That she had been making a fool of you, that you had been in love with her, that she hated you, could not bear you —as they always do in such cases."

"Do you suppose—that she—has said that?" asked Alexandr, turning paler.

" Without the least doubt. Can you imagine that she is relating to him how you used to pick yellow flowers together there in the garden ? What simplicity ! "

" What kind of a duel, though, with the Count ? " asked Alexandr with impatience.

"Why, you ought not to have been rude to him, and avoided him, and given him sulky looks but, quite the contrary, you should have replied to his friendliness by twice, three times, ten times as much friendliness; as for the—what's her name—Nadinka ? I fancy that's not it—you shouldn't have exasperated her with reproaches, you should have been indulgent with her caprices, and have maintained an appearance of noticing nothing, as though any change were something quite impossible. You ought not to have let them get so far as an intimate acquaintance, you should have broken in on their tite-d-tites skilfully—as though accidentally—you should have been everywhere with them—have even gone riding with them—and all the while you should be silently challenging your rival before her eyes, and should lay bare his weak points, as though in surprise at them, without forethought, good-naturedly, even reluctantly and compassionately, and little by little draw off him the disguise in which a young man gets himself up before a pretty girl. You ought to have taken notice what struck and dazzled her most in him and then have skilfully touched on those very points, presented them plainly, and shown them in their everyday light, and have proved that the new hero is nothing particular in himself, and has only assumed this exalted get-up for her benefit. And to do all this, coolly, patiently, skilfully—that's the duel as it is in our age ! But it's not a game for such as you !"

At this point Piotr Ivanitch drank off a glass and at once poured out some more wine.

" Despicable dissimulation! have recourse to double-

dealing to gain a woman's heart!" remarked Alexandr indignantly.

" You would have recourse to the cudgel; pray, is that any better? By dissembling one may keep some one's affection ; by force—I hardly think so! The desire of getting rid of your rival I understand; in that way you would have succeeded in keeping the woman you love for yourself, you would have forestalled or averted danger—it's very natural! but to kill him because he has inspired love is exactly as though you stumbled and hurt yourself and then hit the place, on which you stumbled, as childen do. You may think as you please, but the Count is not to blame ! I see you know nothing of the mysteries of the heart, that's why your amours and your novels are both in such a poor way."

" Amours !" said Alexandr, shaking his head contemptuously ; " but is a love very flattering or very lasting that is inspired by dissimulation ? "

" I don't know about it being flattering, that's as a man likes to look at it; it's quite a matter of indifference to me. I haven't the highest opinion of love in general—you know that. As far as I'm concerned, I should be glad if there were no such thing at all, but that such a love is more lasting I am sure. There is no dealing straightforwardly with the heart. It is a strange instrument. Inspire a passion however you like, but retain it by your intelligence. Dissimulation—that is one side of intelligence, there is nothing despicable in it. There is no need to disparage your rival and resort to slandering; you would set your charmer against you in that way. . .. you must only shake off him the spangles in which he dazzles her, and set him before her as a plain ordinary man, and not a hero .... I think it is quite excusable to defend one's own interests by honorable forms of dissimulation which are not disdained even in warfare. Why, you were wanting to get married ! a pretty husband you would have been, if you had begun to make scenes with youi wife and show your rival a stick, and you'd none the less have won—ahem !"

Piotr Ivanitch pointed to his forehead.

" Your Varinka was twenty per cent, more sensible than you when she made the condition that you should wait a year."

/\

\

" But could I have acted a part even if I had the ability ? To do this one must not love as I do. Some people pretend sometimes to be cold, and stay away for a few days from policy—and that produces an effect. But for me to try to be politic when, at the sight of her, my soul caught fire and my limbs shook and trembled under me, when I was ready to endure any torture, if only I might see her .... No ! whatever you say, for me there is more rapture in loving with all the strength of the soul, even though one suffers, than in being loved without loving, or in loving in a halfhearted way, as an amusement, on a repulsive, calculated system, and playing with a woman as if she were a lapdog and then throwing her aside."

Piotr Ivanitch shrugged his shoulders.

s> " All right then, suffer, if it's so agreeable to you," he

/ said. " Oh, the provinces ! oh, Asia ! You ought to have

I lived in the East; there they give the women orders whom

j they are to love, and if they don't obey, they drown them.

No, here," he continued as if to himself, " to be happy with

a woman can't be managed on your principles, a madman's

really—but it can be done by prudence—many conditions

are necessary .... one must know how to turn a girl into a

woman on a well-thought-out plan, on a method, if you like,

so that she may understand and fulfil her destination. One

must trace a magic circle round her, not too narrow, so that

she may not be conscious of its limits and may not overstep

them ; one must artfully gain the mastery not only of her

heart—that's something, but it's a slippery and unstable

possession—but of her intelligence, her will, and must make

her tastes, her disposition subject to your own, so that she

may look at things with your eyes, think with your brain."

" That means, make her a doll, or the silent slave of her

_ husband !" interposed Alexandr.

" Why ? You must manage so that she shall lose nothing of her character and dignity as a woman. Allow her liberty of action in her own sphere, but let your shrewd wit keep watch over her every action, every breath, every step, so that the husband's eye, ever wakeful—however outwardly indifferent—may note every passing emotion, every whim, every germ of feeling, everywhere and always. Establish— without her observing it—a perpetual control over her without any kind of tyrannising, and lead her into the ways you

desire Oh, a wonderful and difficult training is wanted,

and the best training is—a husband of intelligence and experience—that's where it all is!"

He coughed significantly and tossed off a glass at one draught.

" Then," he continued, " a husband can sleep in peace when his wife is not beside him, or can sit with his mind at rest in his study while she is asleep/'

" Since I see, uncle," continued Alexandr, " that you sit with mind at rest in your study while my aunt is asleep, I surmise that the husband is "

" Sh, sh ! be quiet,' 7 his uncle began to say, lifting his hand; " it's a good thing my wife's asleep, but "

At this moment the door of the study began very quietly to open, but no one was visible.

" But the wife," said a woman's voice in the corridor, i " must not show that she understands her husband's grand •. system of training and must set up a little system of her , own, without chattering about it over a bottle of wine."

Both the Adouevs rushed to the door, but a sound of quick steps, of fluttering skirts came from the corridor, and all was still again.

The uncle and nephew looked at one another.

"What do you say now, uncle? " asked the nephew, after a pause.

"What, nothing!" said Piotr Ivanitch, knitting his brows. " I have chosen a bad time to boast! Learn, Alexandr, that it's better not to marry, or else choose a fool; you'll not be a match for a clever woman: it's a difficult task to train her!"

He fell into thought, then clapped his hand to his brow.

" How came I not to consider that she would know of your visit so late ? " he said with annoyance, " that a woman will never sleep when there's a secret between two men in the next room, that she'd be certain either to send her maid or come herself .... not to have foreseen it! stupidity ! and it's all your doing, and this cursed glass of Lafitte! I've been blabbing! What a lesson from a girl of twenty . . . ."

" You're uneasy, uncle!"

" What is there to be uneasy about ? not much ! I have

made a mistake, I must not lose my self-possession, but must extricate myself skilfully."

He grew thoughtful again.

" She was boasting," he began again, " what sort of training could she use ? no, that could not be in her power; she is young ! she only said that .... from irritation; but now she has discovered this magic circle, she too will begin to play a part .... oh, I know a woman's nature ! But we shall see.''

He smiled confidently and cheerfully, and his brow grew smooth again.

"What were we talking of? oh yes, I think you were wanting to murder your—what's-her-name ? "

" I despise her from the depths of my soul," said Alexandr, with a heavy sigh.

" There, you see ! you're already halfway to recovery. But is that the truth ? you are still angry, I fancy; you will very likely go back there again."

"What an idea! after this."

u Men do go back after more than that! your word of honour now—not to go ? "

" On my word of honour then."

" Well, then."

" If we "

" I will tell you then there's nothing to despise her for."

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