CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Joseph Whitmore Barry 
 dramatic library 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 TWO FRIENDS 
 
 OF Cornell University 
 
 1934 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PG 3421.N6 1877 
 
 Virgin soil / 
 
 3 1924 027 510 928 
 
NU 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027510928 
 
VIRGIN SOIL 
 
 IVAN TURGENIEFF 
 
 TRANSLA TED WITH THE AUTHOR'S SANCTION 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH VERSION 
 
 By T. S. perry 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 
 
 150 Worth Street, corner Mission Place 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 I. 
 
 IN the spring of 1868, toward one o'clock in the after- 
 noon, a young man about twenty-seven years old, negli- 
 gently and even shabbily clad, was ascending the back-stairs 
 of a five-storied house in Officers street, at St. Petersburg. 
 Shuffling up in his worn-out galoshes, and balancing awk- 
 wardly his clumsy, misshapen body, he at last reached the 
 last step of the staircase, and stopped before a dilapidated 
 door which had been left half open, and then, without ring- 
 ing the bell, but coughing loudlv to announce his presence, 
 he entered a narrow, half-lit anteroom. 
 
 " Is Neshdanof here ? " he asked in a deep bass voice. 
 
 ■' No, it is I ; come in ! " a rather harsh woman's voice 
 answered from the next room. 
 
 " Mashurina ? " asked the new-^omer. 
 
 " Yes — and you, Ostrodumot i " 
 
 " Pimen Ostrodumof." 
 
 He at once took off his galoshes, hung his threadbare 
 coat on a nail, and entered the room whence the woman's 
 voice had issued. 
 
 It was a dingy, low-studded room, with walls stained of a 
 dull green, dimly lit by two dusty windows. Its furniture 
 consisted of nothing but an iron bed in a corner, a table in 
 the middle of the room, a few chairs, and a stand heaped 
 up with piles of books. 
 
 Near the table was sitting a woman about thirty years 
 old, bare-headed, clad in a black woolen dress, who was 
 smoking a cigarette. When she saw Ostrodumof enter she 
 held out her large red hand, without a word. He shoot 
 her hand also without a word, dropped into a chair, am 
 took from his pocket the stump of a cigar. 
 
2 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Mashurina gave him light for his cigar, and both, with- 
 out exchanging a word, or even a look, began to puff clouds 
 of blue smoke into the close air of the room, which was 
 already saturated with tobacco. 
 
 "Have you seen Neshdanof?" asked Ostrodumof at 
 last. 
 
 " Yes ; he's coming. He went to carry some books to 
 the library." 
 
 " Why has he been running about so, lately ? " said Ostro- 
 dumof, turning aside to spit. " It is impossible nowadays 
 ever to find him." 
 
 " He's getting bored," she replied. 
 
 " Getting bored ! " repeated Ostrodumof reproachfully. 
 " What an absurdity ! Just as if we had nothing to do ! 
 We are wondering how we shall get through with this job, 
 and he's getting bored ! " 
 
 " Has any letter come from Moscow ? " asked Mashur- 
 ina after a moment's pause. 
 
 " Yes, day before yesterday." 
 
 " Have you read it ? " 
 
 Ostrodumof simply nodded his head. 
 
 " And what was in it ? " 
 
 "We shall have to start soon." 
 
 Mashurina took the cigarette from her mouth. " Why 
 so ? I understood that everything was going on well there." 
 
 " Yes, everything is in pretty fair condition. But there 
 is a man there who is not sure — you understand — he 
 must be removed, or possibly got out of the way altogether. 
 And then there are other things. You, too, you're called 
 for." 
 
 " In the letter ? " 
 
 " Yes, in the letter." 
 
 Mashurina tossed back her thick hair, which, carelessly 
 braided and fastened behind, was falling over her forehead 
 and brows. 
 
 " Very well," she said ; " if that is the order there is 
 nothing to be said." 
 
 " Of course. But without money it can't be done, and 
 where is the money to come from ? " 
 
 Mashurina reflected. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 3 
 
 " Neshdanof must get some," she said in a low voice, as 
 if talking to herself. 
 
 " It was just for that I came," remarked Ostrodumof. 
 
 " You have the letter with you ? " asked Mashurina sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " Yes. Do you want to read it ? " 
 
 " Give it to me. No, don't ; we will read it together 
 later." 
 
 " I told you the truth," muttered Ostrodumof ; " you 
 need not doubt me." 
 
 " Oh, I know you did." 
 
 They were again silent, and again the little puffs of 
 smoke escaping from their silent lips mounted in light 
 spirals above their curly heads. There was a sound of 
 steps in the anteroom.* 
 
 " There he is ! " murmured Mashurina. 
 
 The door was thrust open and a head slipped through 
 the opening, but it was not Neshdanof's. It was a round 
 face ; the hair was black and coarse, the forehead broad and 
 wrinkled ; the little brown eyes moved restlessly beneath 
 the thick eyebrows ; a nose like a duck's beak, turned up 
 at the end, and a little rosy mouth made up the rest of the 
 face. 
 
 This head looked around, bowed, smiled — showing two 
 rows of little white teeth — and entered the room at the 
 same time with a feeble, short-armed body, and legs half 
 bandy, half lame. 
 
 On seeing him both Mashurina and Ostrodumof wore on 
 their faces the same expression of indulgent disdain, very 
 much as if they had said to themselves, " Oh, it's only 
 he." They made no movement and uttered no sound. 
 But the new arrival so far from being discouraged at this 
 reception seemed rather to be pleased with it. 
 
 " What does this mean ? " he cried with a squeaking 
 voice. " A duet ? Why not a trio ? But where is the 
 first tenor ? " 
 
 " Is it Neshdanof you mean, Mr. Pakline ? " asked Os- 
 trodumof with an earnest air. 
 
 " Yes, exactly, Mr. Ostrodumof." 
 
 " He will probably return soon, Mr. Pakline " 
 
4 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " Delighted to hear it, Mr. Ostrodumof." 
 
 The Httle cripple turned toward Mashunna, vno sat 
 scowling, still smoking her cigarette. 
 
 " How do you do, my dear— my dear — oh, how stupid I 
 am ! I can never remember your first name, nor that of 
 your father." * 
 
 Mashurina shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Why should I tell you them ? You know my surname. 
 What more do you want ? And why do you ask how I am ? 
 You see I'm not dead." 
 
 " True, perfectly true ! " cried Pakline, inflating his nos- 
 trils and moving his uneven eyebrows. " If you were dead 
 your very humble servant would not have the pleasure of see- 
 ing you here and of talking with you. Consider my questions 
 as the result of an old bad habit. As for the name, and 
 your father's name — you see it seems queer for me to call 
 you Mashurina simply. I know you always sign your let- 
 ters Bonaparte — I mean Mashurina — but nevertheless — 
 in talking. ..." 
 
 " But who asked you to talk to me ? " 
 
 Pakline gave a little nervous laugh, as if he had swallowed 
 something the wrong way. 
 
 " Come, come, my dove, don't be angry, give me your 
 hand. You are very good, I know, and I am not so bad. 
 Come." 
 
 Pakline held out his hand. Mashurina looked at him 
 frowningly, but yet she stretched out her own. 
 
 " You are very anxious to know my Christian name," 
 she said, without changing her expression ; " well, it is 
 Fiokla."t 
 
 " And mine Pimen," added Ostrodumof's deep voice. 
 
 " Ah, this is very instructive, very instructive ; but then 
 
 * In Russia it is seldom that any one is addressed in conversa- 
 tion by iiis surname ; the Christian name alone would be too intimate 
 or too familiar. The customary form of address — which has the ad- 
 vantage of being familiar with inferiors and respectful with superiors- 
 is like the ancient Greek formula, Achilles Peliades, or son of Peleus. 
 Thus the author of this novel is called Ivan Sergeitch, that is to say 
 Ivan the son of Serge. — 7>. 
 
 + That is, Thekla.— TV. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. t, 
 
 tell me, O Fiokla, and you, O Pimen, why you always treat 
 me so coldly, while I — " 
 
 " Mashurina thinks, and she is not alone in her opinion," 
 interrupted Ostrodumof, " that it is impossible to have con- 
 fidence in you because you always look at things from the 
 ridiculous side." 
 
 Pakline turned quickly on his heels. 
 Ah, those who judge me always make the same mis- 
 take, my dear Pimen. In the first place, I'm not always 
 laughing, and then it doesn't mean anything, and it is pos- 
 sible to have confidence in me. The proof of this is the 
 flattering confidence which has been shown me more than 
 once by your friends. I'm an honest man, my dear Pimen." 
 
 Ostrodumof muttered something between his teeth, and 
 Pakline, shaking his head, repeated, but this time without a 
 smile, " No, I'm not always laughing ; I'm not a happy 
 man ; just look at me ! " 
 
 Ostrodumof raised his eyes to his face. In fact, when 
 Pakline was not laughing or talking, his face wore an expres- 
 sion of sadness mingled with dread ; this expression became 
 comical and even mischievous the moment he opened his 
 mouth. But Ostrodumof kept silence. Pakline turned 
 again toward Mashurina. 
 
 " And how are your studies getting on ? Are you 
 making progress in your philanthropic art ? It must be a 
 hard business helping an inexperienced citizen to make his 
 first appearance in the world, eh ? " 
 
 " Oh, not at all, provided the little citizen is not much 
 bigger than you are," answered Mashurina smiling with a 
 satisfied air. 
 
 Mashurina had just received the diploma of midwife. 
 Eighteen months before she had left her family — who were 
 nobles of moderate wealth in the south of Russia — and 
 she had come to St. Petersburg with six rubles in her 
 pocket ; she had entered the school of obstetrics, and by 
 liard work she had reached the grade she wanted. She 
 was unmarried and very chaste. " Nothing remarkable ! " 
 a skeptic will cry, remembering what we said of her ap- 
 pearance. " An astonishing and rare thing," we shall take 
 the hberty of saying in our turn. 
 
6 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 While waiting for Mashurina's answer Pakline began to 
 laugh. 
 
 " A fair hit ! " he said. " Ah, you're quick at repartee ! 
 That will be a lesson for me. Well, why have I remained 
 so small ? But our friend doesn't return. J wonder what 
 he is about." 
 
 Pakline changed the subject of conversation intention- 
 ally. He had never been able to resign himself to his mi- 
 croscopic figure, to his frail physique. These physical 
 faults were so much the more painful to him, because he 
 adored women. To please them, what would he not have 
 given ? The consciousness of deformity tormented him more 
 cruelly than the lowliness of his birth or the mediocrity of his 
 position. Pakline's father, a simple citizen who had become 
 honorary counselor by various tricks, had been a sort of 
 business man who was consulted in matters requiring arbi- 
 tration, and to whom was occasionally confided the man- 
 agement of an estate or a house. In business of this sort 
 he had accumulated a modest competency ; but having 
 taken to drink in his old age, he had left nothing behind 
 him. The young Pakline was named Sila Samsonitch, that 
 is to say. Strength, son of Samson (which he thought was 
 another mockery of fate) ; he was educated in a commer- 
 cial college, where he had learned German very thoroughly. 
 After many disagreeable adventures he at last found a place 
 in a counting-house that brought him in a salary of fifteen 
 hundred rubles. With these slender means he supported 
 not only himself, but also a sick aunt, and his sister, who 
 was a hunchback. He was just twenty-seven years old at 
 the time our story begins. He had struck acquaintance 
 with a great number of students, youths whom he pleased 
 by his hardy cynicism, by cheerfulness and impudence, and 
 by his learning, which was limited, to be sure, but, so far as 
 it went, sound and void of pedantry. That did not prevent 
 his sometimes being made fun of by. them. One day, foi 
 example, when he happened to be late at a political meet- 
 ing, and began modestly to apologize, a voice in a corner 
 began to sing, " Our poor Pakline is a most valiant warrior," 
 and every one burst out laughing. Finally Pakline joined 
 in the laughter, although his heart was black with anger. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 7 
 
 " The rascal has put his finger on the sore spot," he 
 said to himself. 
 
 He had made Neshdanof's acquaintance in a Greek 
 eating-house where he took his meals, and where he uttered 
 very free and very pronounced opinions. He used to pre- 
 tend that the original cause of these democratic tendencies 
 was just this atrocious Greek cooking, which disturbed his 
 liver. 
 
 " Yes ; where the devil can he be ? " repeated Pakline. 
 " I've noticed he has been out of sorts for some time. Can 
 he be in love ?" 
 
 Mashurina frowned. 
 
 " He has gone to the library to get some books. As for 
 being in love, he has other fish to fry, and besides, with 
 whom could it be ? " 
 
 " With you," Pakline was on the point of answering, but 
 he contented himself with saying : 
 
 " I want to talk with him on some important matters." 
 
 " What matters ? " asked Ostrodumof. " Our business ? " 
 
 "Yours, perhaps— ours, I mean." 
 
 Ostrodumof uttered an ahem ! He felt a certain mis- 
 trust, but he said to himself at once, " After all, who 
 knows ? This eel creeps in everywhere." 
 
 " Here he is at last," said Mashurina suddenly, and in 
 her dark-ringed eyes, turned toward the door of the ante- 
 room, there had flashed a sort of warm and tender glow, 
 like a little luminous spot. 
 
 The door opened, and there entered this time a young 
 man of twenty-three, with a cap on his head and a pile of 
 buoks under his arm ; it was Neshdanof. 
 
11. 
 
 WHEN he saw the three visitors, Neshdanof stopped 
 on the threshold, glanced at them all, threw off his 
 cap, let his books fall carelessly upon the floor, and, with- 
 out saying a word, sat down on the foot of his bed. 
 
 His pleasant face, with its fair complexion, which the 
 dark tint of his thick, ruddy-brown hair made appear even 
 fairer, expressed discontent and vexation. Mashurina 
 turned away a little, biting her lip. Ostrodumof murmured, 
 " At last ! " 
 
 Pakline approached Neshdanof. 
 
 " What has happened to you, Alexis Dimitrivitch, Rus- 
 sian Hamlet ? Has any one made you angry ? Or have 
 you fallen into this melancholy fit all by yourself ? " 
 
 " Leave me alone, Mephistopheles," answered Nesh- 
 danof impatiently. " I've not time to waste sharpening my 
 wits against yours." 
 
 Pakline began to laugh. 
 
 " You don't express yourself correctly, my dear fellow ; 
 what is naturally dull can't be made sharp." 
 
 " Very , good, very good ; we all know how witty you 
 are." 
 
 "And you, your nerves are in a wretched state," an- 
 swered Pakline slowly. " Has anything extraordinary 
 really happened to you ? " 
 
 " Nothing extraordinary ; it only happens that no one 
 can put his nose out of doors in this vile place without 
 running across some villainy, some foolishness, some absurd 
 injustice, some stupidity. It's impossible to live here." 
 
 " That's why you have advertised for a situation, and 
 why you would like to leave St. Petersburg," Ostrodumof 
 went on muttering. 
 
 " Certainly I shall leave, and gladly, provided I can find 
 any one stupid enough to offer me a place." 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. Q 
 
 " First of all, one should perform his duty here" said 
 Mashurina meaningly, but with her eyes still averted. 
 
 " That is to say ? " asked Neshdanof, wheeling about 
 
 Mashurina closed her lips. 
 
 " Ostrodumof will explain," she said finally. 
 
 Neshdanof turned toward Ostrodumof, but he coughed 
 and said merely : 
 
 "By and by." 
 
 " Come, seriously," continued Pakline, " have you heard 
 anything disagreeable ? " 
 
 Neshdanof sprang from the bed, as if impelled by a 
 spring. 
 
 " Eh ! what is there that isn't disagreeable ? " he shout- 
 ed. " Half of Russia is starving ; the Moscow Gazette is 
 triumphant ; they are introducing classicism amongst us ; 
 they forbid students forming subscription clubs ; there is 
 spying everywhere, and denunciation, lying, and treachery ; 
 no one can take a single step. And all that is not enough ! 
 He must have some other disagreeable thing ! He asks 
 me if I am speaking seriously." 
 
 " Bassanof has been arrested," he added, lowering his 
 voice ; " some one just told me at the library." 
 
 Ostrodumof and Mashurina raised their heads at the 
 same time. 
 
 " My dear Alexis Dimitrivitch," began Pakline, " you 
 are agitated, naturally — but do you forget at what time, in 
 what country you are living ? With us the drowning man 
 must make his own wisp of straw to catch at. There is no 
 use indulging our feelings over it ! See, my friend, we must 
 learn to look the devil in the face, and not lose our temper 
 like children." 
 
 "Oh ! stop, please ! That's enough," interrupted Nesh- 
 danof in agony, his features drawn as if by physical pain. 
 "We understand, you are an energetic man, you're not 
 afraid of anything or anybody^ — " 
 
 " Afraid of anybody, I ? " murmured Pakline. " Come, 
 come ! " 
 
 " But who could have betrayed Bassanof ? I don't un- 
 derstand that at all." 
 
 " Some friend, of course ! " Pakline added quickly 
 
,0 VIRG/.V so/r.. 
 
 " Friends can't be beaten in that line. It is with them one 
 has always to be on his guard. I, for instance, I had a 
 friend, such a good fellow ! he grew anxious about me, 
 about my reputation. One day he came to my room : 
 ■ Just fancy,' he said to me, ' what a stupid calumny has 
 been spread abroad about you ; they say you poisoned yout 
 uncle ; that in a house where you had just been introduced 
 you turned your back on your hostess, and stayed so all 
 the evening, while she, poor woman, was crying with mor- 
 tification. What stupidity ! What idiots people must be 
 to invent such scandalous stories ! ' Well, only think, the 
 next year I happened to quarrel with him, and I received a 
 letter from him, in which he said, ' You, who have killed 
 your uncle ! You, who were not ashamed to insult a wor- 
 thy lady by turning your back on her ! ' etc., etc. That's 
 what friends are ! " 
 
 Ostrodumof exchanged a glance with Mashurina. 
 
 " Alexis Dimitrivitch," he began in his deep voice, evi- 
 dently desiring to put an end to this waste of words, " we 
 have received from Moscow a letter from Vasily NicolaT 
 vitch." 
 
 Neshdanof gave a little start and lowered his eyes. 
 
 " What does he say ? " he asked at last. 
 
 "She and I," Ostrodumof indicated his neighbor by a 
 slight movement of the eyebrows, " we are to leave." 
 
 " What ! Is she summoned too ? " 
 
 " She is." 
 
 "Well, why do you delay ? " 
 
 " For a very simple reason — lack of money." 
 
 Neshdanof stood up and walked toward the window. 
 
 " How much do you need ? " 
 
 "Fifty rubles, not a kopeck less." 
 
 Neshdanof was silent for a moment. 
 
 " I haven't so much at this moment," he muttered, beat- 
 ing the pane with his fingers, " but — I can get it. I will 
 get it. Have you the letter with you ? " 
 
 " The letter ! It — that is to say — of course — " 
 
 " Why do you always affect secresy before me ? " asked 
 Pakline. " Have I not deserved your confidence ? and 
 even if I should not sympathize entirely with — your pro- 
 
VIliCrM SOIL. II 
 
 jects — do you really think I would betray or let out your 
 secret ? " 
 
 " Unintentionally perhaps," growled Ostrodumof. 
 
 " Neither with nor without intention ! There is Miss 
 Mashurina, who looks at me and smiles— and I tell you — " 
 
 " I'm not smiling at all," answered Mashurina angrily. 
 
 "And I tell you, gentlemen," continued Pakline, "that 
 you don't show the least sagacity, that you can't distinguish 
 our real friends ! Because some one laughs now and then, 
 you imagine he can't be in earnest — " 
 
 " Exactly ! " answered Mashurina in the same tone. 
 
 " See, for instance," Pakline went on, without noticing 
 the interruption, " you need money — Neshdanof at this mo- 
 ment has none — well, I can give you some." 
 
 Neshdanof suddenly left the window. 
 
 " No, no, what's the use ? I shall get some. I shall 
 draw my money in advance. I remember, they owe me 
 something. But, by the way, Ostrodumof, show me the 
 letter." 
 
 Ostrodumof remained motionless for a moment, then 
 he looked around, leaned forward, pulled up the leg of his 
 trowsers, and drew from his boot a carefully folded piece 
 of paper ; he blew on the paper — no one knows why — and 
 handed it to Neshdanof. 
 
 He, after unfolding and reading it carefully, gave it to 
 Mashurina, who, having risen from her chair, read it in Jier 
 turn and gave it back to Neshdanof, although Pakline held 
 out his hand to take it. Neshdanof shrugged his shoulders 
 and silently offered the letter to Pakline, who, after he had 
 read it, pursed his lips together in a significant way, and 
 put it on the table without saying a word. Then Ostro- 
 dumof struck a large match, which gave forth a strong 
 smell of sulphur, and after he had lifted the paper above 
 his head as if to show it to them all, he set fire to it with 
 the match and let it burn to the last scrap, without sparing 
 his fingers ; then he threw the ash into the fire. 
 
 No one had uttered a word nor moved during this per- 
 formance. All looked at the floor ; Ostrodumof seemed 
 sunk in serious meditation ; Neshdanof's face wore an 
 almost savage expression ; Pakline's indicated an anxious 
 
12 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Struggle ; as for Mashurina, she seemed to be assisting at a 
 solemn religious ceremony. 
 
 Two minutes passed in this way. Then they all felt a 
 little embarrassed. It was Pakline who first broke the 
 silence. 
 
 " Well," said he, " do you accept, yes or no, niy offering 
 on the altar of my country ? May I contribute, if not fifty 
 rubles, at least twenty-five or thirty for the common cause ? " 
 
 Neshdanof burst out suddenly. The bad temper which 
 was seething within him, and had been only in part appeased 
 by the burning of the letter, was but awaiting an oppor- 
 tunity to show itself. 
 
 " I told you it was useless — do you understand, useless ! 
 T shall not permit it — I shall not take the money ! I shall 
 get some, and at once. I don't need any one's aid." 
 
 "Come, my friend," said Pakline, "I see you're a revo- 
 lutionist, Ijut you're not a democrat." 
 
 " Say at once that I'm an aristocrat ! " 
 
 " Well, certainly you're an aristocrat — up to a certain 
 point." 
 
 Neshdanof laughed constrainedly. 
 
 " You refer to my irregular birth. You're taking unnec- 
 essary trouble, my dear fellow. There's no need of your 
 reminding me." 
 
 " Why, Alexis, what ails you ? How can you take what 
 I say in this way ? You seem very strange to-day." Nesh- 
 danof moved his head and shoulders impatiently. " The 
 arrest of Bassanof has upset you — but then he was so im- 
 prudent — " 
 
 " He said whatever he thought," remarked Mashurina 
 gloomily. " It's not for us to blame him." 
 
 " True, but he might have thought of the others whom 
 perhaps he is compromising now." 
 
 " Why do you think that of him ? " roared Ostrodumof 
 in his turn. " Bassanof is a very energetic man. He will 
 not betray any one. And as for prudence — do you want 
 to know my opinion ? It is not given to every one to be 
 prudent, Mr. Pakline." 
 
 Pakline, who was offended, was on the point of replying, 
 but Neshdanof cut him short. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 »3 
 
 " Gentlemen," he cried, " listen to me ; let us leave poli- 
 tics alone for a while." 
 
 There was a silence. It was again Pakline who started 
 the conversation. 
 
 " I met Skoropikin this morning, the great esthetic critic 
 of all the Russias. What an unendurable creature ! Always 
 sparkling and bubbling ! He reminds you of a bottle of 
 kislitchi.* The waiter who has poured it out tries to stop 
 it with his finger instead of a cork ; a swollen grape-seed 
 sticks in the neck of the bottle ; it spurts and hisses, and 
 when all the foam is gone, there is nothing left at the bot- 
 tom of the bottle but a few drops of vile stuff which does 
 not quench your thirst, and gives you a colic to boot. This 
 Skoropikin is a man who is dangerous for young people." 
 
 The comparison Pakline had madfe, exact as it was, did 
 not bring a smile to the face of any one. Ostrodumof 
 alone said that young people who were capable of taking 
 an interest in " esthetics " did not deserve pity, even if the 
 great critic made them lose their good sense. 
 
 " Oh ! but I beg your pardon ! allow me ! " said Pakline 
 hotly (he always grew more excited the less he was ap- 
 proved) ; " the question, although not a political one, is 
 yet very important. If we can believe Skoropikin, every 
 ancient work of art is worthless, just because it is ancient. 
 But, in that case, art is nothing but fashion, and there is 
 no use talking about it seriously ! If in art there is not 
 something unvariable, eternal, the devil may take it ! In 
 science, in the mathematics, for example, do you consider 
 Euler, Laplace, Gauss, as old, worn-out hacks ? No ; you 
 recognize their authority. But for you, Raphael and Mo- 
 zart are idiots, and your pride revolts against their author- 
 ity. The laws of art are harder to discover than those of 
 science, I confess ; but they exist, and he who denies their 
 existence is blind, whether willfully or not is of little impor- 
 tance." 
 
 Pakline stopped. They all remained silent, as if each 
 had bitten his tongue, or as if they felt great compassion 
 (or him. Ostrodumof alone growled out : 
 
 • A fermented, effervescent drink, containing raisins. s\lgar, etc — T^ 
 
M 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " All that doesn't prevent my having no regard for the 
 young men who let themselves be stupefied by Skoropikin." 
 
 " Let them go to the devil ! I'm off ! " said Pakline to 
 himself. 
 
 He had come to Neshdanof's room to express his views 
 on the introduction into Russia of copies of the Folar Star 
 (the Cloche was already discontinued, at that time) ; but the 
 conversation having taken so unfortunate a turn, he thought 
 it more prudent not to discuss the matter. 
 
 He was already taking up his hat, when suddenly, before 
 any previous sound had given them warning, a voice was 
 heard in the anteroom. 
 
 " Is Mr. Neshdanof at home ? " 
 
 It was a very agreeable, modulated, full baritone voice ; 
 the tone suggested ideas of distinction, of perfect ele- 
 gance, even of exquisite perfumes. They all looked at one 
 another in amazement. 
 
 " Is Mr. Neshdanof at home ? " the voice repeated. 
 
 "Yes," Neshdanof at last repHed. 
 
 The door was gently opened with a light, uniform move- 
 ment, and on the threshold appeared a man about forty 
 years old, tall, well made, almost majestic, who, slowly re- 
 moving his hat, disclosed a handsome head with close-cut 
 hair. He was dressed in a superb overcoat of English 
 cloth, the collar of which, although it was the end of April, 
 was lined with beaver ; the visitor struck them all, Nesh- 
 danof, Pakline, Mashurina herself — even Ostrodumof — by 
 the noble ease of his bearing and the kindly serenity of his 
 approach. 
 
 They all rose involuntarily when they saw him appear. 
 
III. 
 
 THIS elegant visitor walked toward Neshdanof, and 
 said, with an affable smile : 
 
 " I have already had the pleasure of meeting and even 
 of talking with you, Mr. Neshdanof — the day before yes- 
 terday, if you remember, at the theater." 
 
 Here he paused, waiting for a reply. Neshdanof nodded 
 his head and blushed. 
 
 " Yes ; and to-day I have come to see you on account 
 of the advertisement you put in the paper. I should like 
 to talk this over with you, if it will not inconvenience your 
 friends." 
 
 He bowed to Mashurina, and waved his hand, encased in 
 a gatit de Svide, toward Ostrodumof and Pakline. " And 
 if I do not disturb them — " 
 
 " Not at all, not at all ! " answered Neshdanof con- 
 strainedly ; " my friends will be very glad — won't you be 
 good enough to take a chair ? " 
 
 The visitor bowed graciously and took hold of the back 
 of a chair, but he did not sit down — for everybody in the 
 room was standing — and turned his bright and sharp, though 
 half-closed, eyes in every direction. 
 
 "Good-by, Alexis Dimitrivitch," said Mashurina sud- 
 denly ; " I shall be in again soon." 
 
 " So shall I," added Ostrodumof ; " so shall I, very soon." 
 
 And\with a sort of bravado Mashurina, going past the 
 visitor, took Neshdanof's hand, which she shook heartily, 
 and then left the room, without bidding any one else good- 
 by. Ostrodumof followed her out, stamping his heels on 
 the floor rather more loudly than was necessary ; he even 
 shrugged his shoulders twice, as if to say, " So much for 
 you and your beaver collar ! " 
 
 The visitor's eyes followed them with a polite but some- 
 
 15 
 
i6 VIRGIN son.. 
 
 what curious look, which was then turned on Pakline, as if 
 with the expectation that he would follow the two others. 
 But Pakline, whose face, since the new-comer's arrival, wore 
 a sort of repressed smile, had shrunk into himself and re- 
 treated into a corner. When he saw this, the visitor sat 
 down. Neshdanof did the same. 
 
 " My name is Sipiagin ; it is, perhaps, not wholly unknown 
 to you," he began with self-conscious modesty. 
 
 But, first of all, it must be told how Neshdanof met him 
 at the theater. The play was Alexander Ostrovsky's " Don't 
 Sit in Another's Sleigh." Early in the morning Neshdanof 
 had gone to the box-office, which was crowded. He had 
 intended to take a place in the pit, but as he was approach- 
 ing the little window, an officer close behind him held out 
 a three ruble bill over Neshdanof's head, saying to the 
 ticket-seller : 
 
 " You will probably have to give this gentleman change. 
 I've just the right sum here ; give me, please, an orchestra 
 chair on the second row. I'm in something of a hurry." 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," said Neshdanof curtly. " I want an 
 orchestra chair on the second row, too." 
 
 With these words he tossed the ticket-seller a three-ruble 
 his whole fortune, and that evening he found himself 
 
 the aristocratic part of the Alexandra Theater. Being 
 rather ill dressed and without gloves, in unblacked boots, 
 he felt ill at ease and angry with himself for his mortifica- 
 tion. His neighbor on the right was a general, glittering 
 with decorations, and on the left was his present visitor. 
 Privy Counsellor Sipiagin, whose arrival two days later was 
 destined to so amaze Mashurina and Ostrodumof. 
 
 The general cast his eyes at intervals toward Neshda- 
 nof, as if he were some unpleasant object, disagreeable 
 and even painful to the sight ; as for Sipiagin, his side 
 •glances were not at all unfriendly. Those among whom 
 Neshdanof was sitting were great personages ; they all 
 knew one another, and they exchanged short phrases, com- 
 pliments, and simple exclamations, which sometimes passed 
 over Neshdanofis head, as had been the case that morning 
 at the box-office. He sat quiet but unhappy in his broad, 
 comfortable chair, feeling like a Pariah. Shame, bitterness, 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. J -J 
 
 all sorts of evil emotions filled his heart. Suddenly, to his 
 great surprise, his left-hand neighbor, not the decorated 
 general, but the other, who wore no orders on his chest, 
 addressed him politely with an air of kindness and an ap- 
 parent desire to please. He spoke of the play ; he asked 
 Neshdanof, as a representative of the younger generation, 
 what he thought of the piece. Astonished, almost fright- 
 ened, Neshdanof answered at first only in monosyllables, in 
 a broken voice — to tell the truth, his heart was beating 
 strongly. Then he felt angry with himself again : why in 
 the world should he be so disturbed ? Wasn't his neighbor 
 a man like any one else ? 
 
 He began to express his ideas without hesitation and 
 without reserve ;' finally, he grew so enthusiastic and spoke 
 so loudly, that his right-hand neighbor was evidently irri- 
 tated. Neshdanof was a warm admirer of Ostrovsky ; but 
 with all his respect for the talent shown by the author in 
 this comedy, he could not commend his evident inclina- 
 tion to throw contempt on civilization, such as was but 
 too plain in his exaggerated drawing of Vikhoref.* " His 
 good-natured neighbor listened to him attentively 
 and pleasantly, and when the next act was over, he re- 
 sumed the conversation, not about Ostrovsky's comedy, 
 but more generally on every-day matters, and scientific and 
 political questions. He was evidently interested in his 
 young and eloquent acquaintance. Not only had Nesh- 
 danof overcome his shyness, but at times he put on steam, 
 as they say. 
 
 " Ah ! " he thought to himself, " you are inquisitive, are 
 you ? I'll show you something for your pains." 
 
 As for his neighbor on the other side, what he felt was 
 no longer discomfort, but indignation and suspicion. At 
 the end of the play Sipiagin took leave of Neshdanof in 
 the most friendly way, although without asking his name or 
 giving his own. 
 
 * In the play Vikhoref is a ruined spendthrift, who wins the love 
 of the daugliter of a rich merchant in a small town, and abducts her, 
 in order that their marriage may not be prevented. Wliether inten- 
 tionally or not, the author has contrasted the patriarchal simplicity 
 of old times with modern depravity. 
 
,8 VIRGIN SOTL. 
 
 While he was waiting for his carriage in front of the 
 theater, he met one of his intimate friends, Prmce G., an 
 aide-de-camp of the Emperor. 
 
 "I saw you from my box," said the prmce smilmg 
 through his perfumed mustaches. " Do you know who it 
 was you were talking to ? " 
 
 " No, I do not, do you ? " 
 
 " A bright fellow, isn't he ? " 
 
 " Very bright. Who is he ? " 
 
 " My brother ; yes, my brother. A natural son of my 
 father— he's named Neshdanof. I'll tell you about it — my 
 father didn't expect him, that's why he named him Nesh- 
 danof. * But he took an interest in him — // lui a fait un 
 sort. We give him an allowance. He's an intelligent fel- 
 low ; thanks to my father, he has received a good educa- 
 tion. Only he is a fanatic, a republican. We see nothing 
 of him — quite out of the question, you know. But there's 
 my carriage. Good night ! " 
 
 The prince drove off. The next day Sipiagin came 
 across Neshdanof's advertisement and he went to see him. 
 
 " My name is Sipiagin," he said to Neshdanof, taking 
 his seat on a straw chair opposite the young man, whom 
 he scrutinized carefully. " I saw in the paper that you are 
 anxious to find a situation with some family, and this is 
 what I have come to propose to you. I am married ; I 
 have a son nine years old, a bright little boy, I'm not 
 ashamed to say. We shall go into the country for a part 
 of the summer and the autumn, in the district of S., five 
 versts from the principal town. Would you not like to ac- 
 company us during the vacation, to teach my son Russian 
 and history, the two subjects you mention in your ad- 
 vertisement ? I venture to think that you would find my 
 family and my place agreeable. There's a fine garden, a 
 pretty river, the air is pleasant, the house is large — do you 
 agree ? In that case, you have only to let me know your 
 terms, although I suppose," he added with a light smile, 
 " that there cannot be any difficulty between us on that 
 matter." 
 
 * 2. £■., unexpected. — TV. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 19 
 
 All the time that Sipiagin was talking, Neshdanof kept 
 his eyes fixed on him ; he looked at his narrow, low, but 
 intelligent forehead, his Roman nose, with its delicate lines, 
 his pleasant eyes, his regular lips, whence issued a stream 
 of courteous words, his side whiskers, like an English- 
 man's — he looked at him and did not know what to think. 
 
 "What does all this mean ?" he said to himself. "Why 
 does this man seem to be making advances to me ? This 
 aristocrat — and I: how does it happen that we are together ? 
 What has brought him here ? " 
 
 He was so buried in his reflections that he did not open 
 his mouth, even when Sipiagin, having finished his little 
 speech, became silent, and waited for an answer. Sip- 
 iagin glanced into the inner room where Pakline had taken 
 refuge, and was now staring at him quite as earnestly as 
 Neshdanof. Perhaps the presence of this third person 
 kept Neshdanof silent. 
 
 Sipiagin elevated his eyebrows resignedly, as if he ac- 
 cepted the strangeness of the situation into which he had 
 voluntarily put himself ; then he raised his voice and re- 
 peated his question. 
 
 Neshdanof felt a slight tremor. 
 
 " Certainly," he said quickly. " I — agree — with much 
 pleasure — although I must say — I can't help being a little 
 surprised — without any references — and then what I said 
 day before yesterday, at the theater, might so well have 
 displeased you — " 
 
 " You are entirely mistaken, as to that, my dear Mr. 
 Alexis — Alexis Dimitrivitch, if I am not mistaken," said 
 Sipiagin smiling. " As for myself, I can say frankly that I 
 am known to be a man of liberal and advanced views ; and 
 your ideas, with the exception — if you will kindly permit 
 me to mention it — of a certain exaggeration, peculiar to 
 youth, — your ideas, I repeat, in no way contradict my own. 
 I may add, indeed, that their youthful ardor pleases me." 
 
 Sipiagin spoke without the slightest hesitation ; his 
 smooth, rounded utterances flowed, according to the Rus- 
 sian expression, like honey on oil. 
 
 " My wife shares my views," he went on ; " possibly her 
 views are more like yours than they are like mine ; that is 
 
20 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 very natural, she is younger than I. When I saw in the 
 paper, the day after I met you, your name, which, let me 
 say parenthetically, I learned at the theater, and which you 
 had printed in full, contrary to the usual custom, with your 
 address, the fact struck me. I saw in that — in that coin- 
 cidence — a sort of — you will kindly overlook my supersti- 
 tions, — a sort of special Providence. You speak of refer- 
 ences, but I don't care for them. Your appearance, your 
 character, arouse my sympathy ; that is enough for me. I 
 am accustomed to trust to my first impressions in these 
 matters. So I can hope — you will agree." 
 
 " I agree, of course," answered Neshdanof, " and I shall 
 try to deserve your confidence. Yet let me tell you now 
 that I am ready to teach your son his lessons, but that I 
 don't feel competent to do any more. I don't feel capable 
 of undertaking anything else, and I want to be free. I am 
 unwilling to give up my liberty." 
 
 Sipiagin waved his hand, as if he were waving away a 
 
 fly- 
 
 "Don't be uneasy, my very dear sir; no one would 
 
 think of asking more of you, and besides, I don't care foi 
 a private tutor who shall be with him all the time and look 
 out for his manners. I only want some one to superintend 
 his lessons, and that I have found. And now, the condi- 
 tions ? The pecuniary conditions ? The vile metal ? " 
 
 Neshdanof kept silence from embarrassment. "Listen 
 to me," said Sipiagin, bending his whole body forward, 
 and amicably touching Neshdanof 's knee ; " between gen- 
 tlemen, a word is enough. I offer you a hundred rubles 
 a month ; your traveling expenses going and coming of 
 course are to be charged to me. Is that right ? " 
 
 Neshdanof flushed again. 
 
 " That is a great deal more than I had intended to ask 
 for — for I — " 
 
 "Very well; exactly!" interrupted Sipiagin. "I con- 
 sider this settled, and I look upon you as one of us." 
 
 He rose from his chair with an air of delight, as if some 
 one had just given him a present. A sort of kindly, almost 
 childlike familiarity suddenly appeared in all his move- 
 ments. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 21 
 
 "We are going away in a few days," he resumed, in an 
 easy tone. " I like to see the opening of spring in the 
 country, although my work makes me a very prosaic man, 
 chained to the city. You will allow me to consider that 
 )Our first month begins to-day. My wife and son are al- 
 ready at Moscow. She went on before me. We shall find 
 them in the country, in the heart of nature. You and I — 
 we will go on together — like a couple of bachelors. Ha, ha ! " 
 
 Sipiagin's laugh was brief, somewhat nasal, but otherwise 
 pleasant eiiough. 
 
 " And now ? " 
 
 He drew from his coat pocket a little black card-case, 
 bordered with silver, from which he took a card. 
 
 " Here is my address in St. Petersburg. Will you not 
 come and see me to-morrow, about noon ? We will talk 
 some more together. I should like to give you some of my 
 notions about education — and then we can settle on the 
 day for leaving." 
 
 Sipiagin took Neshdanof's hand. 
 
 "By the way," he added confidentially, "if you need 
 anything in advance, I beg of you, don't stand on cere- 
 mony. A whole month, if you care for it." 
 
 Neshdanof did not know exactly what to say ; he looked, 
 without being able to make up his mind, at the radiant, pre- 
 possessing face which was so strange to him, and yet, com- 
 ing- near his own, smiled at him so benevolently. 
 
 " You don't need any, eh ? " whispered Sipiagin. 
 
 " If you will allow me, I'll tell you to-morrow," answered 
 Neshdanof at last. 
 
 " Very well ! Good-by, then, till to-morrow ! " 
 
 Sipiagin dropped the young man's hand, and prepared to 
 leave. 
 
 "Allow me one question," said Neshdanof suddenly. 
 " You said just now that you learned my name at the 
 theater. Who told it to you ? " 
 
 " Who ? one of your acquaintances, a relative of yours, 
 [ think, a prince — Prince G." 
 
 " The aide-de-camp ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Neshdanof blushed — more deeply than ever — and opened 
 
2 2 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 his mouth. But he closed it without saying a word. Sip- 
 iagin again squeezed his hand, this time silently, bowed to 
 him and to Pakline, put on his hat when he reached the 
 threshold, and went away wearing in his face a complacent 
 smile ; it expressed the conviction of the deep impressioti 
 b.is visit could not have failed to make. 
 
IV. 
 
 SIPIAGIN had hardly left the room when Pakline 
 sprang from his chair, and, hastening toward Nesh- 
 danof, began to congratulate his friend. 
 
 " That's getting a big fish in your net," he said with a 
 laugh, shifting from one foot to another. " Do you know 
 who Sipiagin is ? He is a very well-known man, a cham- 
 berlain, a pillar of society, if I may use the phrase, a future 
 minister." 
 
 " I have never heard of him," said Neshdanof somewhat 
 sullenly. 
 
 Pakline flung up his arms as if in despair. " That's just 
 our misfortune, Alexis Dimitritch, that we don't know any- 
 body. We want to do something, to turn the world upside 
 down, and we live wholly outside of the world ; we know 
 only our two or three friends, we are forever going around 
 in the same little groove — " 
 
 "Excuse me," interrupted Neshdanof, "that's not ex- 
 actly it. It's only that we refuse to have anything to do 
 with our enemies. As to our own set, as to the people, we 
 are always in communication with them." 
 
 " Tra, la, la ! " interrupted Pakline in his turn. " In the 
 first place, as for enemies, let me recall those lines of 
 Goethe's : 
 
 " Who will the poet understand, 
 Must go into the poet's land." 
 
 and I say. 
 
 "Who will the enemy understand, 
 Must go into the enemy's land." 
 
 To live away from one's enemies, to remain in ignorance 
 of their life and manners — it's an absurdity — an absurdity ! 
 To track a wolf in the forest, you must know first all his 
 hiding-places. Then you just spoke of being in communi- 
 
 23 
 
24 r/KGiy SOIL. 
 
 cation with the people, my dear friend. In 1862 the Poles 
 took to the woods, and now it's we who are doing the same 
 thing and taking to the woods ; that is to say, to the 
 people, who are more hostile and deafer to us than any 
 forest." 
 
 " Well, what do you think is to be done ? " 
 
 " The Hindoos throw themselves beneath the wheels of 
 the Juggernaut," continued Pakline gloomily; "it crushes 
 them and they die happy. We have our Juggernaut ; it will 
 crush us, that's very certain, but it will not make us the 
 least bit happy." 
 
 " But what do you think is to be done ? " repeated Nesh- 
 danof, almost shouting. " Should we write novels with an 
 especial object ? " 
 
 Pakline opened his arms and leaned his head to one side. 
 
 " You at any rate can write novels, becaiuse you have 
 literary tastes. ■ Come, don't be angry. I won't say it again. 
 I know you don't like to hear that alluded to. Besides, I 
 agree with you, it's not a very delightful occupation manu- 
 facturing such things, stuffing them with all the new-fash- 
 ioned phrases. ' Oh, I love you ! ' she burst forth. ' I don't 
 care for that,' he hurled back. That's why I tell you to go 
 into all classes of society, beginning with the highest. It is 
 not enough to rely on the Ostrodumofs. They are worthy 
 people, kindly but stupid. Just look at our friend ! Nothing 
 about him, not even the soles of his boots, reminds you of 
 intelligent people. See, why did he go away from here just 
 now ? In order not to stay in the same room, not to breathe 
 the same air as an aristocrat ! " 
 
 " I must beg of you not to talk of Ostrodumof in that 
 way before me ! " cried Neshdanof w^armly. " He wears 
 thick boots because they are cheap." 
 
 " That's not what 1 meant," began Pakline. 
 
 " He don't want to stay in the same room with an aristo- 
 crat," continued Neshdanof raising his voice. "Well, I 
 approve of him for just that. And, moreover, he is capa- 
 ble of sacrifice, and if it were necessary he would face 
 death, which is more than you or I would ever do." 
 
 Pakline, with a pitiful face, pointed to his little crooked 
 legs. 
 
 " How could I fight, my dear friend ?— but let's talk of 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 25 
 
 something else. I tell you I am very glad that you are 
 connected with Mr. Sipiagin, and I foresee the great ad\ an 
 tage this will be to our work. You will be in high life, you 
 will see the lionesses, those women with velvet bodies over 
 steel springs, as the Lettres sur VEspagne say ; study them, 
 my friend, study them ! If you were an epicurean I should 
 be alarmed about you, — I should. But that's not the 
 reason you take the situation, is it ? " 
 
 " I took the situation to keep body and soul together," 
 answered Neshdanof ; " and to keep out of your way for a 
 time, too," he added to himself. 
 
 " Of course, of course, that's why I repeat my advice ; 
 observe, study ! What a perfume he's left behind him, 
 that gentleman ! " Pakline threw back his head to sniff the 
 air. " It's just the perfume of amber which the mayor's 
 wife in the Revisor used to dream of." 
 
 " He asked Prince G. about me," said Neshdanof, in a 
 low voice, having gone back to the window ; " probably he 
 knows my whole story by this time." 
 
 " Not probably, but certainly. What difference does that 
 make ? I'd be willing to bet that is what gave him the 
 notion of taking you for his boy's tutor. Say what you will 
 you are an aristocrat by birth ; yes, indeed, you are one of 
 them ! But I've been here a long while, it's time for me 
 to go to the office, to those vile speculators ! Good-by, 
 my friend ! " 
 
 Pakline started to leave, but he stopped and turned round. 
 
 " See here, Alexis," he said in a coaxing tone, " just now 
 you wouldn't let me — I know that now you are going to 
 have some money, but still let me make a modest offering 
 for the common cause. I can't be of service in any other 
 way ; let me at least do my part with my purse. See, I put 
 on the table a ten ruble bill ; is it accepted ? " 
 
 Neshdanof did not stir. 
 
 " Silence means consent. Thank you ! " cried Pakline 
 joyfully, and he disappeared. 
 
 Neshdanof remained alone. He continued to gaze out 
 of his window into the narrow, gloomy courtyard, where 
 the rays of the sun never penetrated even in summer ; and 
 his face was as dark as the courtyard. 
 
j6 virgin soil. 
 
 Neshdanof was, as we have learned, the son of Prince 
 G, — a rich man, a general on the emperor's staff, and of 
 his daughter's governess — a pretty girl, a former pupil in 
 a school for young ladies of noble birth. She died the 
 day Neshdanof was born. He was educated first at a 
 boarding-school kept by a Swiss, an intelligent and rigor- 
 ous teacher, and then he entered the University. He 
 wanted to study law, but the general, his father, who de- 
 tested the nihilists, compelled him to study " esthetic " 
 subjects, as Neshdanof called them with bitter irony, that 
 is to say, he made him enter the department of history and 
 philology. His father used to see him at the most three or 
 four times a year ; but he took an interest in his future, and 
 at his death, had left for his benefit six thousand rubles, 
 " in memory of Nastia " (his mother). The interest was to 
 be paid him as an allowance by his brother. Prince G. 
 
 It was not inaccurately that Pakline called him an aris- 
 tocrat ; everything about him recalled his origin : his small 
 ears, hands, and feet, the possibly excessive delicacy of his 
 features, his soft complexion, the beauty of his hair, the 
 slight lisp of his sympathetic voice. He was terribly ner- 
 vous, terribly irritable and impressionable, even capri- 
 cious ; the false position in which, since infancy, he had 
 found himself, had had a large share in making him sensitive ; 
 but his innate generosity saved him from becoming suspi- 
 cious and distrustful. This false position also explained 
 the contradictions in his character. Although scrupulously 
 fastidious, and ready to be disgusted by the merest trifle, 
 he affected coarseness and cynicism in his speech ; natu- 
 rally an idealist, both passionate and chaste, at once bold 
 and timid, he blamed himself for this timidity, this purity, 
 as if it were a shameful defect, and he held it his duty to 
 ridicule the ideal side of things. He had a kind heart, 
 and kept away from people ; he was easily irritated, but 
 he never nursed a grievance. He was angry with his 
 father for obliging him to study esthetic subjects, and appar- 
 ently he was interested in nothing but politics and social 
 questions ; he preached — and with perfect conviction — the 
 most advanced theories ; but in secret he adored poetry 
 art, and beauty in all its forms — he even wrote verses. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 27 
 
 He used to hide very carefully the little note-book in 
 which he wrote them, and of his Petersburg friends Pak- 
 line alone — thanks to his great acuteness — suspected their 
 existence. Nothing could so enrage Neshdanof as even a 
 vailed allusion to his poetic tastes, which he looked upon 
 as unpardonable weaknesses. His Swiss teacher had 
 taught him a good many facts ; he was not afraid of 
 work ; he even took it up with pleasure, though somewhat 
 feverishly, and without persistence. His companions were 
 very fond of him, being attracted by the sincerity, kind- 
 . ness, and purity which they saw in him. But poor Nesh- 
 danof was not bom under a happy star ; life was not easy 
 to him. He felt his position keenly, and in spite of his 
 friends' devotion, he always seemed to himself to be a 
 lonely creature. 
 
 Left alone in his room, and still standing before the 
 window, Neshdanof thought sadly of the journey he was 
 about to take ; of this novel, unexpected change in his 
 mode of life. He was not sorry to go from St. Petersburg, 
 because he would leave nothing particularly dear there ; 
 besides, was he not coming back in the autumn ? And yet 
 he seemed full of irresolution and possessed by involun- 
 tary melancholy. 
 
 " A singular tutor I shall make," he thought, " a strange 
 teacher ! " 
 
 He was almost angry with himself for forming this en- 
 gagement, although in truth his anger was unjust. Nesh- 
 danof was sufficiently well educated, and in spite of his 
 uncertain temper, children were not afraid of him, and 
 very soon became fond of him. 
 
 The sadness which had now fallen upon him was merely 
 from the impression which all melancholy, dreamy persons 
 have when they are obliged to leave a place. Venture- 
 some, sanguine characters do not know the feeling ; they 
 are more inclined to be glad when the current of their lives 
 is broken, when there comes an opportunity to change their 
 surroundings. 
 
 Neshdanof was plunged into such a deep revery that 
 gradually, almost without knowing it, he began to put it 
 into words, and his impressions fell into rhythm and rhyme. 
 
,8 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " The devil ! " he said aloud. " I really believe that I'm 
 going to write some verses." 
 
 He shook himself and turned from the window ; his eye 
 was caught by the ruble bill which Pakline had left on the 
 table ; he put it into his pocket, and began to walk up and 
 down the room. 
 
 " I must draw some money in advance," he said to him- 
 self, " since this gentleman has made the offer. A hundred 
 rubles, and then from my brothers, their highnesses, an- 
 other hundred. Fifty for what I owe, sixty or seventy for 
 the journey, and the rest can go to Ostrodumof, together 
 with Pakline's ten rubles. Besides, we shall get something 
 from Markelof, too." 
 
 While he was making these calculations rhymes began 
 to fly through his head. He stopped dreamily, and stood 
 looking vaguely to one side. Then his hands groped their 
 way, as it were, to the table-drawer, which they opened, 
 and found at the bottom the little note-book covered with 
 writing. He dropped into a chair in front of the table 
 without changing the direction of his eyes, and then mur- 
 muring inaudibly, and from time to time tossing back his 
 hair, he began to jot down verses. 
 
 The anteroom door opened half way, and Mashurina's 
 head appeared. Neshdanof did not see her and went on 
 with his work. Mashurina looked at him fixedly for a long 
 time, and then shaking her head from side to side with an 
 air of pity, she stepped back. But Neshdanof arose at 
 once. 
 
 _ " Oh, it's you ! " he said with some vexation, thrusting 
 nis note-book into the bottom of the drawer. 
 
 "Ostrodumof sent me," she said slowly, "to find out 
 when we can receive the money. If you get any to-day, 
 we shall leave this evening^" 
 
 Neshdanof frowned. 
 
 " It's impossible to-day ; come to-morrow." 
 
 " At what time ? " 
 
 " At two o'clock." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 Mashurina was silent for a moment, and then suddenly 
 holding out her hand to Neshdanof, said, " I'm afraid I've 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 2g 
 
 disturbed you, excuse me. And then — I'm going away. 
 Who knows whether we shall ever meet again ? I wanted 
 to say good-by." 
 
 Neshdahof shook Mashurina's red, cold hand. 
 
 " You saw my visitor just now ? " he said. " I have 
 rome to an agreement with him. I'm going with him to 
 his country-place, near S ." 
 
 A smile passed over Mashurma's face. 
 
 " Near S ! In that case we shall meet perhaps. We 
 
 n-.ay be next in that direction." 
 
 Mashurina smiled again. 
 
 " Ah, Alexis Dimitritch." 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Neshdanof. 
 
 Mashurina became more reserved. 
 
 " Nothing. Good-by. Nothing at all." 
 
 She pressed his hand again and disappeared. 
 
 " There's no one in all Petersburg who is so much at- 
 tached to me as that strange girl," thought Neshdanof; " but 
 she needn't have disturbed me. Well, it's all for the best." 
 
 The next morning Neshdanof made his way to Sipiagin's 
 residence, and was introduced into a magnificent library, 
 filled with elegant furniture, to accord with the dignity of 
 the liberal statesman and gentleman. He sat down before 
 a large writing-table on which, besides enormous paper- 
 knives, which had never cut a leaf, lay heaps of periodicals, 
 which had never been of the slightest service to any one. 
 He listened for a whole hour to the intelligent, kindly, unc- 
 tuous remarks of his host, received the hundred rubles 
 which were advanced to him, and ten days later, the same 
 Neshdanof, lying back on the velvet cushions of a first-class 
 compartment, by the side of the same gentleman and wise 
 and liberal statesman, was rolling toward Moscow over the 
 rough, uneven rails of the Nicholas Railway. 
 
IN the parlor of a large brick house with a colonnade 
 and elaborate pediment, built about 1825 bySipiagins 
 father, who was a well-known agriculturist and "tooth- 
 puller, " * Mme. Sipiagin — a very pretty woman, be it 
 said by the way, — was expecting at every moment her hus- 
 band's arrival, which had been announced by telegraph. 
 
 The whole arrangement of the parlor bore marks of deli- 
 cate and modern taste ; everything was pleasant and at- 
 tractive ; everything, from the medley of dyed stuffs and 
 cretonnes, to the various forms of the porcelain, bronze, 
 and metal vases, scattered over the tables and stands ; all 
 appeared in the clear, but subdued and harmonious light 
 of a day in May, as it shone freely through the tall, wide- 
 open windows. The air of the room was filled with the 
 perfume of lilies-of-the-valley (bouquets of this delicious 
 flower were set about here and there), and at times it was 
 gently agitated by a light puff of wind that had passed over 
 the rich grass of the garden. 
 
 It was a charming picture. And the lady herself, Valen- 
 tine Michaelovna Sipiagin, completed the picture, giving it 
 thought and life. 
 
 She was a tall woman about thirty years old ; her hair was 
 dark chestnut ; her face, without great variety of color, but 
 fresh, recalled that of the Sistine Madonna, with its velvety, 
 deep eyes. Her lips were pale and somewhat thick, her 
 shoulders a little high, her hands rather large. But on the 
 whole, any one who had seen her in her parlor, going and 
 coming easily and lightly — now bending her delicate, some- 
 what tightly-laced figure over a flower, to enjoy its per- 
 
 * A term formerly applied to gentlemen who were fond of inflicting 
 cor70T,il punishment on their serfs. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 31 
 
 fume — now altering the position of some Chinese vase, or 
 arranging her lustrous hair before the glass, half closing 
 her handsome eyes — would certainly have said to himself, 
 ii not aloud, that he had never met a more beautiful 
 creature. 
 
 A pretty, curly-headed little boy about seven, in a High- 
 land dress and with bare legs, with his hair oiled and 
 curled, came running into the room, but stopped short when 
 he saw Madame Sipiagin. 
 
 " What is it. Kola ? "* she said. 
 
 Her voice was as soft and as velvety as her eyes. 
 
 " It's — mamma — " the little boy hesitated, " aunt sent 
 me here — and told me to get her some lilies-of-the-valley 
 for her room. She hasn't any." 
 
 Valentine Michailovna took hold of her son's chin and 
 lifted up his head. 
 
 " Tell your aunt to ask the gardener for some lilies-of- 
 the-valley ; these here belong to me — I don't want any 
 one to touch them. Tell her I don't like to have anything 
 disturbed that I have arranged. Can you tell her just what 
 I've said ? " 
 
 " I can — " stammered the little boy. 
 
 " Let us see ; what are you going to say to her ? " 
 
 " I shall tell her — I shall tell her — that you don't want 
 her to." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin began to laugh, and her laugh too was 
 smooth and soft. 
 
 " I see I can't send messages by you yet. But it makes 
 no difference, tell her the best way you can." 
 
 The little boy quickly kissed his mother's hand, all 
 glistening with rings, and hurried from the room. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin followed him with her eyes, sighed, and 
 walked toward a gilded cage in which was a little green 
 parrot climbing up the wires by its beak and claws ; she 
 teased it a little with the end of her finger and then drop- 
 ping on a low sofa, she took from a carved table the last 
 number of the Revue des Deux Mondes, and lolling back 
 on the sofa, began to turn over the pages. 
 
 * Diminutive of Nicholas. 
 
2 2 VIRGI-S' SOIL. 
 
 A respectful ccugh made her lift her head. A solemn 
 servant in livery, with a white cravat, stood on the thre-shold. 
 
 " What is it, Agathon ? " she said in the same sweet voice. 
 
 " Simeon Petrovitch Kallomeitsef.' Shall I show him 
 in?" 
 
 " Certainly. Ask him to come in. And tell Marianna 
 \'ikentievna that I should be very glad if she would come 
 down into the parlor." 
 
 Simeon Petrovitch Kallomeitsef was a young man of 
 about thirty-two. His way of entering the room, easily 
 and indifferently, almost languidly, then the sudden de- 
 light which flashed over his face, his bow somewhat to one 
 side, and his quick straightening of himself as if he was 
 moved by a spring, the slight nasal tone in his remarks to 
 the mistress of the house, the respectful way in which he 
 seized Valentine Micha'ilovna's hand and kissed it with ef- 
 fusion — all this made it very plain that the new-comer was 
 no provincial, no rich country neighbor, but a real citizen 
 of St. Petersburg and of the first circles. 
 
 It may be added that he was dressed in the present 
 English style. The side-pocket of his check coat was per- 
 fectly flat, and was surmounted by the triangular corner of 
 his new white cambric handkerchief ; his eyeglasses hung 
 at the end of a broad black ribbon ; his dull colored gants 
 de Suede harmonized wonderfully with the pale gray tint of 
 his plaid trousers. 
 
 Mr. Kallomeitsef wore his hair short, and his beard was 
 shaved smooth. Plis almost feminine face, with the little 
 eyes near together, the small nose, and the soft lips, wore 
 that expression of amiable complacency which suits the 
 perfectly-trained gentleman. And yet this amiable face 
 ';ould readily assume a very bad or even a brutal expres- 
 sion when any one, no matter who, took the liberty of touch- 
 ing against one, no matter whicla, of Mr. Kallomeitsef's 
 conservative, patriotic, or religious principles — then he was 
 pitiless. All his elegance was gone at once ; his caressing 
 eyes were lit up with an unholy fire ; his little pink mouth 
 gave expression to most violent words, and M'ith cries like 
 a peacock he would scream forth his authorities. 
 
 Kallomeitsef was the descendant of simple gardeners. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 33 
 
 His great-grandfather was named Kolomentsof, from the 
 place of his birth ;* but his grandfather altered this name 
 to Kolome'itsef ; his father signed his name Kalomeitsef ; 
 and finally Simeon Petrovitch, having added an /, really 
 considered himself a pure-blooded nobleman. He was 
 fond of repeating that his family was directly descended 
 from the Barons of Gallenmeyer, one of whom had been 
 field-marshal in Austria at the time of the Thirty Years' War. 
 
 He had a place at court with the title of chamberlain ; 
 patriotism had prevented his entering the diplomatic ser- 
 vice to which everything about him seemed to point, — his 
 education, his familiarity with society, his success with 
 women, and his general air ; " Mais quitter la Jiussie ? Ja- 
 mais.'" he used to say in French. 
 
 He was well off, and he had powerful relatives ; he was 
 looked upon as a rising man with talents, " although some- 
 what medieval in his opinions," according to the expres- 
 sion of Prince B., a well-known luminary of the official- 
 world at St. Petersburg. 
 
 He had come to pass two months of vacation in the gov- 
 ernment of S , to see to the management of his estates ; 
 
 that is to say, " to frighten this man, and put the thumb- 
 screws on that." How could anything go on without such 
 measures ? 
 
 "I expected to find Boris Andreitch here," he said, 
 gracefully balancing himself on his toes, and then looking 
 suddenly to one side, like a certain very great personage, 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin made a slight grimace. 
 
 " Otherwise you wouldn't have come ? " 
 
 Kallome'itsef started back, so unjust and unreasonable 
 did the question seem. 
 
 " Oh, madam ! " he cried, " oh, how could you think — " 
 
 " Very well, then ; sit down. Boris Andreitch will be 
 here very soon. I have sent a carriage to the station. Be 
 patient, you are going to see him. What time is it ? " 
 
 " Half past two," said Kallomeitsef, drawing from his 
 waistcoat pocket a large enameled gold watch, which he 
 showed to Mme. Sipiagin. " Did you ever see my watch ? 
 
 * Kolomna, in the government of Moscow. 
 
34 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 It's a present from Michael — you know — the Prince of Ser- 
 via — Obrenovitch. There is his coat-of-arms. We are 
 great friends, he and I. What a charming fellow he is ! 
 and with all that he has a hand of iron, as a ruler should 
 have. Oh ! he permits no nonsense. No, no ! " 
 
 Kallome'itsef stretched himself in his easy-chair, crossed 
 his legs, and began slowly to remove the glove from his left 
 hand. 
 
 " Oh, if we only had a man of that sort in our govern- 
 ment of S ." 
 
 " What ? Who is it that displeases you ? " 
 
 Kallome'itsef turned up his nose. 
 
 " This zemstvo, you see, this zemstvo ; what is the good of 
 it ? It only weakens the administration and gives rise to 
 unprofitable ideas " (Kallome'itsef began to wave his un- 
 gloved hand in the air to restore the impeded circulation), 
 " and vain hopes " (here he blew upon his hand). " I have 
 said all that at Petersburg, mais, bah! the wind doesn't 
 blow from that quarter. Your husband, too, only think of 
 it ! Besides, he's known as a liberal." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin sat up straight on the sofa. 
 
 " What ! and you too, ' M'sieu ' Kallomeitsef, you belong 
 to the opposition ? " 
 
 " I ? To the opposition ? Never. Nothing could 
 tempt me. Mais, fai mon franc parler. I criticise some- 
 times, and I submit always." 
 
 "Ido just the contrary: I don't criticise, and I don't 
 submit." 
 
 "Ah, mais c'est un mot! Will you give me leave to tell 
 it to my friend Ladislas ? He is writing a society novel ; 
 he has read several chapters. It will be delightful. Nom 
 aurons enfin le grand monde russe peint par lui-m^me." 
 
 " What is it going to come out in ? " 
 
 " In the Russian Messenger, of course. It is our Revue 
 des Deux Mondes. You read it, I see." 
 
 " Yes, but do you know it's getting very heavy ? " 
 
 " Possibly— possibly. And the Russian Messenger too, 
 I take it, is going down hill a bit." 
 
 Kallomeitsef laughed loudly ; he thought it very " swell " 
 to use such expressions. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 35 
 
 "But it's a periodical that respects itself," he went on, 
 " and that's the main thing. Russian literature, I might 
 as well confess, hardly interests me at all ; in the novels o* 
 to-day there are only vulgar people. Some one has just 
 chosen for a heroine a cook, a mere cook, 'pon my honor ! 
 But as for Ladislas's novel, I shall certainly read it. It will 
 be full of bright things. And then its lesson is such a good 
 one ! The nihilists will be dragged through the mire — I'm 
 sure of that from what I know of Ladislas's way of think- 
 ing — qui est ti-hs correct." 
 
 "His past life has hardly been so ! " remarked Mme. 
 Sipiagin. 
 
 "Ah,jetons un voile sur les erreurs de sajeunesse ! " cried 
 Kallome'itsef, completing the operation of removing the 
 glove from his right hand. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin for the second time looked at him co- 
 quettishly through her half-closed eyehds. She was a little 
 inclined to flirt with those incomparable eyes of hers. 
 
 " Simeon Petrovitch," she said, " tell me, please, why 
 when you speak Russian, you use so many French words ? 
 It seems to me (you won't be vexed ?) a little old-fash- 
 ioned." 
 
 " Why ? Why ? It is not everybody who has such per- 
 fect command of his native language as — you have, for 
 instance. As for nle, I consider Russian the language of 
 ukases and official business ; I value its purity very highly ! 
 I bow before Karamzin ! But is there such a thing as 
 every-day Russian, so to speak ? For example, what I 
 just said, ' c'est un mot ! ' It's impossible to say that in Rus- 
 sian ! " 
 
 " I should have said. It's a happy expression." 
 
 Kallome'itsef began to laugh. 
 
 " A happy expression ! oh ! madam ! But don't you see 
 that is so pedantic all the sparkle is lost ? " 
 
 " Well, I am still unconvinced. But what has become 
 of Marianne ? " 
 
 She rang the bell which was answered by a little page. 
 
 " I ordered that Marianne Vikentievna should be asked 
 to come down into the parlor. Was the order forgotten ? " 
 
 Before the little page had time to answer, there appeared 
 
VIKCIX soil.. 
 
 behind him on the threshold a young girl with her hair cut 
 short, and dressed in a large, dark-colored blouse. It was 
 Marianne Vikentievna Sinetskaia, a niece of Sipiagin on 
 his mother's side. 
 
VI. 
 
 PLEASE excuse me, Valentine Michailovna," said 
 the young girl, going toward Mme. Sipiagin ; " I 
 was busy, and so got late." 
 
 She then greeted Kallomei'tsef, and was about to take a 
 seat a little to one side on a little hassock, near the parrot, 
 who, as soon as it saw her, began to open its wings and 
 stretch its neck. 
 
 _"_ Why do you sit so far off, Marianne?" asked Mme. 
 Sipiagin, whose eyes had followed her all the time. " Do 
 you want to be near your little pet ? Only think of it," 
 she said'to Kallomei'tsef, " that parrot is positively in love 
 with our Marianne." 
 
 " That doesn't surprise me." 
 
 " And it can't endure me." 
 
 " That is surprising. Probably you tease it ? " 
 
 " No ; on the contrary, I give it sugar ; only it won't 
 take it from my hand. No, it's a matter of sympathy — 
 and of antipathy." 
 
 Marianne looked rather sullenly at Mme. Sipiagin, who 
 also looked at her. 
 
 These two women were not fond of each other. 
 
 In comparison with her aunt Marianne might well be con- 
 sidered plain. Her face was round, her nose large and 
 aquiline, her gray eyes were also large and very clear, the 
 eyebrows were delicate, and the lips thin. She wore her 
 thick chestnut hair cut short, and her expression was rather 
 unamiable. But she seemed made up of strength, passion, 
 and impetuosity. Her hands and feet were extremely 
 small ; her robust and elegant figure recalled the Floren- 
 tine statuettes of the sixteenth century ; her movements 
 vcre light and graceful. 
 
 Miss Sinetskaias' position in the household of the Sipia- 
 gins was a somewhat difficult one. Her father, an active, 
 
 37 
 
^S VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 intelligent man, of half Polish descent, had reached the 
 grade of general, when suddenly his connection with an 
 enormous robbery of the government was discovered. He 
 was tried and found guilty ; he was dismissed the service, 
 deprived of his patent of nobility, and sent to Siberia. 
 After a time he was pardoned, and he returned to Russia ; 
 but he had not time to climb the ladder again, and he died 
 in extreme poverty. His wife, the sister of Sipiagin, and 
 the mother of Marianne, who was an only child, could not 
 survive the loss of all that made life happy ; she died soon 
 after her husband. 
 
 Sipiagin received his niece into his house, but the young 
 girl felt a great disgust for this dependent life ; she longed 
 for liberty with all the energy of an indomitable spirit. 
 Between her and her aunt there was a constant although 
 unavowed struggle. Mme. Sipiagin considered her an 
 atheist and a nihilist, and Marianne detected an inevitable 
 persecutor in Mme. Sipiagin. She held herself aloof from 
 her uncle and from every one ; she avoided men, but not 
 from fear ; her temperament was not a timid one. 
 
 " Antipathy," repeated Kallomeitsef, " yes, it's a singular 
 thing. Every one knows that I am a very religious man, 
 orthodox in the full meaning of the word ; but I can't 
 see a priest's pigtail without being excited ; without boiling 
 over, without boiling over." 
 
 In order to express how he would boil over, Kallomeitsef 
 raised his clenched fist twice. 
 
 " Hair in general seems to give you trouble, Simeon 
 Petrovitch," observed Marianne ; " I am sure you can't 
 help being enraged when you see those who wear it short, 
 as I do." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin slowly raised her eyebrows, and shook her 
 head, as if to express her astonishment at the freedom with 
 which young girls nowadays join in a conversation ; but 
 Kallomeitsef smiled condescendingly. 
 
 " Certainly," he said, " I can't help regretting such fine 
 curls as yours, Miss Marianne, when they fall beneath the 
 pitiless blade of the shears ; but that doesn't arouse my an- 
 tipathy, and at any rate your example might — might apos- 
 tatize me." 
 
V IRC IN SOIL. ^Q 
 
 Kallomeitsef was unable to recall the Russian word, and 
 since he did not wish to speak French after what Mme. 
 Sipiagin had said, he, of course, fell into the most awkward 
 expression available. 
 
 "Thank heaven, Marianne doesn't wear spectacles yet," 
 said Mme. Sipiagin, " and she has not as yet given up 
 wearing collars and cuffs ; but, on the other hand, to my 
 great regret, she is studying the natural sciences, and is 
 getting interested in the woman question. Are you not, 
 Marianne ? " 
 
 All this was intended to annoy Marianne, but she was 
 not annoyed. 
 
 " Yes, aunt," she replied ; " I read everything that's 
 written on the subject. I try to understand what the 
 question is." 
 
 " How strange these young people are ! " said Mme. 
 Sipiagin to Kallomeitsef ; " you and I, we don't care for 
 such things, eh ? " 
 
 Kallomeitsef smiled approvingly. He felt obliged to en- 
 courage the lady in her amiable pleasantry. 
 
 " Miss Marianne," he began, " is still imbued with that 
 idealism, that youthful, romantic spirit, which — that — with 
 time — ■" 
 
 " Besides, I am doing myself injustice," interrupted 
 Mme. Sipiagin ; " these questions interest me, too. Indeed, 
 I'm not yet quite so old as to be wholly indifferent to them." 
 
 " And I too am exceedingly interested in all such things," 
 cried Kallomeitsef hastily, " only I would prohibit them as 
 subjects of conversation." 
 
 " You would prohibit them as subjects of conversation," 
 repeated Marianne. 
 
 " Yes, I would say to the public, I don't prevent your 
 being interested in these things ; but, as for talking about 
 them — hush.! " (he placed his finger on his mouth). " At 
 any rate, I should have forbidden anything being printed 
 about them. Absolutely — ab-so-lute-ly ! " 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin began to laugh. 
 
 " What ! In your opinion would it not be necessary to 
 name a commission to settle this question ? " 
 
 " A commission ? Why not ? Do you think v.x can't 
 
40 V/RGhV SOIL. 
 
 settle this question as well as those half- starved quill- 
 drivers who can't see further than the end of their nose, 
 and imagine themselves geniuses of the first order ? We 
 should have made Boris Andreitch chairman." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin laughed even more. 
 
 " Take care, take care ! Sometimes Boris Andiei'tch 
 is such a Jacobin — " 
 
 " Jaco, Jaco, Jaco," said the parrot. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin waved her handkerchief in order to 
 frighten it. 
 
 " Don't interrupt the talk of sensible people. Marianne, 
 play with it." 
 
 Marianne turned toward the cage and began to scratch 
 the parrot's neck, which it at once held toward her. 
 
 " Yes," resumed Mme. Sipiagin, " sometimes Boris An- 
 dre'itch surprises even me. He has in him the making of 
 a — well, of a tribune." 
 
 ^'' C est parcequ'il est orateur," said Kallomeitsef, in French 
 this time. " Your husband has the gift of speech more 
 than any one, and he is accustomed to shine — ses propres 
 paroles le griseni — and then his desire of popularity. By 
 the way, isn't he a little vexed just now ? // boude, eh ? " 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin glanced toward Marianne. 
 
 " I haven't noticed it," she said after a short pause. 
 
 " Yes," Kallomeitsef went on in a meditative voice, " they 
 did him some injustice at Easter." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin for the second time glanced toward Ma- 
 rianne. 
 
 Kallomeitsef smiled, and shut one eye to show that he 
 understood. 
 
 " Miss Marianne," he cried suddenly, rather more loudly 
 than was necessary, " do you intend to give lessons at the 
 school this year ? " 
 • Marianne turned her back to the cage. 
 
 " Are you interested in that, too, Simeon Petrovitch ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; very much." 
 
 "You wouldn't have forbidden that ?" 
 
 " I should have forbidden the nihilists even thinking of 
 schools, but I should have been the first to establish schools 
 under the care and direction of the clergv " 
 
VIKCIN SOIL s,\ 
 
 ' Really ? I don't know yet what I shall do this year. 
 Last year everything was such a failure ! And what son 
 of a class can one collect in summer ?" 
 
 Marianne always blushed when she was talking, as if her 
 words cost her an effort, as if she compelled herself to go 
 on. She had a good deal of amour-propre . 
 
 " Perhaps you are not sufficiently prepared ? " asked 
 Mme. Sipiagin with a slight ironical inflection. 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " What ? " cried Kallomeitsef. " What do I hear ? Heav- 
 ens ! Preparation is needed for teaching little peasant girl.^ 
 their a, b, c's ! " 
 
 But at that moment Kola ran into the room, crying 
 " Mamma, mamma ! " He was followed by a lady with a 
 bonnet on her head, and on her shoulders a yellow shawl ; 
 she also announced that Borinka was coming. 
 
 This lady was an aunt of Sipiagin's, named Anna Zak- 
 harovna. 
 
 All the persons in the parlor arose in haste and went in- 
 to the antechamber, thence they went down stairs and out 
 to the front steps. A drive-way lined with trimmed fir-trees 
 led from the high road to these steps, and along this was 
 driving a four-horse carriage. Valentine Micha'ilovna, 
 who was in front, waved her handkerchief. Kola shouted 
 with a piercing voice. The coachman stopped the steam- 
 ing horses just before the steps, the footman jumped down 
 pell-mell, opened the carriage door so violently that he 
 nearly tore off latch and hinges, and then, with a kindly 
 smile on his lips, in his eyes, over his whole face, throwing 
 off with a single easy and proud gesture the cloak he wore 
 over his shoulders, Boris Andrei'tch set foot on the ground. 
 
 Valentine Michailovna threw her arms around his neck 
 with a swift, graceful gesture, and each kissed the other's 
 cheeks three times. Kola was skipping about, tugging at 
 his father's coat-tails ; but he, having first taken off a horri- 
 ble Scotch traveling cap, which was as inconvenient as it 
 was ugly, kissed Anna Zakharovna, then bade good-day to 
 Marianne and to Kallomeitsef, who was also on the steps ; 
 he shook the hand vigorously, in the English fashion, of 
 this last-named gentleman, swinging his arm as if he were 
 
+ 2 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 ringing a bell— and only then did he turn to his son, whom 
 he took under the arms and lifted to his face. 
 
 While all this was going on, Neshdanof had slipped out 
 of the carriage like a criminal, and was standing near the 
 hmd wheel without taking off his cap and looking rather 
 sullen. Valentine Michailovna, when she was kissing her 
 husband, had cast a scrutinizing glance over her shoulder 
 at this new face ; Sipiagin had sent her word that he would 
 bring a tutor with him. 
 
 Then they all, still exchanging polite speeches and 
 shaking his hand, walked toward the staircase with the 
 newly-arrived master of the house. The stairs were lined 
 with the principal servants, male and female. They did 
 not come to kiss their master's hand, that "Asiatic" 
 custom having long since been abolished, they merely 
 bowed respectfully. Sipiagin returned their bows, not so 
 much with his head as with his eyebrows and nose. 
 
 Neshdanof also went up the broad steps ; as he was en- 
 tering the anteroom, Sipiagin, who was looking round for 
 him, introduced him to his wife, to Marianne, and to his 
 aunt ; then he said to Kola : 
 
 " Here is your teacher, I hope you will mind him. Go 
 and shake hands with him." 
 
 Kola held out his hand timidly to Neshdanof, looked at 
 him fixedly, but finding nothing extraordinary or at- 
 tractive about him, he went back to his "papa." Nesh- 
 danof felt very much embarrassed. He was wearing an 
 old and tolerably shabby overcoat, as he had done that 
 evening at the theater ; the dust of the journey covered 
 his face and hands. Mme. Sipiagin said a pleasant word 
 to him, but he did not hear it very distinctly, and noticed 
 only that she gave her husband bright, caressing glances 
 and hung upon his arm. Kola's oiled and curled hair dis- 
 pleased him ; and when he saw Kallomeitsef he thought, 
 " What a smooth mug he has ! " and he paid no attention 
 to the others. 
 
 Sipiagin looked on each side twice, as if to recognize his 
 household gods ; this movement brought out admirably 
 his long,_ hanging side-whiskers, and his muscular neck. 
 Then with his full, sonorous voice, which was not at alj 
 
X'IRGIN SOIL. 
 
 43 
 
 affected by the fatigue of the journey, he said to one of 
 the servants : 
 
 " Ivan, show this gentleman to the green room and carry 
 his valise there." 
 
 Then he explained to Neshdanof that he could now rest 
 liimself, unpack his trunk, and perform his toilet, and that 
 dinner would be ready at five exactly. 
 
 Neshdanof bowed and followed Ivan to the green room 
 which was on the second floor. All the others went into 
 the parlor, where they repeated their welcomes : an old, 
 half-blind nurse came to greet the master. Out of respect 
 for her age, Sipiagin held out his hand for her to kiss, and 
 begging Kallome'itsef to excuse him, he went to his own 
 room, followed by his wife. 
 
VII. 
 
 THE neat and spacious room to which the servant led 
 Neshdanof, looked out on the garden. The win- 
 dows were wide open, and a light wind was gently puffing 
 out the white curtains, which swelled like sails, and rose 
 and fell with the air. Bright reflections shone on the floor, 
 the room was full of a smell of spring, fresh and a trifle 
 damp. Neshdanof first dismissed the servant, unpacked 
 his valise, and dressed. The journey had really worn him 
 out, — the continual presence for two days of a stranger 
 with whom he had talked of everything and of nothing ; 
 this useless desultory conversation had worn upon his 
 nerves ; a bitter feeling, disgust or wrath, was lurking in 
 his heart ; he was angry with himself for his lack of 
 courage, his weakness — and the bitterness would not pass 
 off. 
 
 He went to the window and looked out into the garden. 
 It was an old garden that had been cultivated a century at 
 least ; the soil was rich, its equal was not to be found in 
 the country that side of Moscow, It lay on the slope of a 
 long hill,. and was divided into four distinct parts. In 
 front of the house, stretched the flower-garden for a dis- 
 tance of about two hundred paces, with its rectangular gravel 
 walks, its round flower-beds, and clumps of acacia and 
 lilac ; to the left, alongside of the stables, as far as the 
 barn, was the fruit-orchard with its compact rows of apple, 
 pear, and plum trees, and of gooseberry and raspberry 
 bushes ; further on, in front of the house, the rows of lofty 
 linden trees crossed one another, forming a large square. 
 To the right, the view was cut off by a double row of white 
 poplars which shaded the road ; the pointed roof of the 
 orangery arose behind a cluster of beeches. 
 
 The whole garden was clothed in the tender green of 
 
 44 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 45 
 
 opening spring. There was not yet to be heard the mighty 
 and vigorous buzz of insects such as fills the air during the 
 heats of summer ; a few finches were singing here and 
 there ; two turtle-doves were cooing on the branches of the 
 same tree ; a solitary cuckoo was sounding his cry, every 
 time from a different place ; and from afar, from behind 
 the mill-pond came a cawing of crows, loud and continu- 
 ous, like the creaking of a multitude of wheels on wooden 
 axle-trees. And above all this young, retired, and sohtary 
 life, great bright clouds were floating, pufHng themselves 
 out like big, idle birds. 
 
 Neshdanof stood looking, listening, and breathing in the 
 air which refreshed his half-opened lips. He felt more at 
 ease ; the outside calm had its influence upon him. 
 
 Meanwhile, they were talking about him in the room 
 below. Sipiagin was telling his wife how he had made his 
 acquaintance ; what Prince G. had said about him, and 
 the talk they had had during the journey. 
 
 " He's an intelligent young fellow," he repeated, " and 
 well educated. He's rather a fanatic in his views to be sure ; 
 but you know that to me that makes no difference ; there is 
 always one good thing about such people, they have self 
 respect. And then, Kola's too young for such notions to 
 take any hold on him." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin listened to her husband with a smile at 
 the same time caressing and mocking, as if he had con- 
 fessed to some odd but amusing escapade ; she even felt 
 a sort of pleasure in seeing that her " lord and master," a 
 man of his position and gravity, was still as capable of fol- 
 lowing a whim as if he were but twenty years old. 
 
 Standing before a looking-glass, and adorned with a 
 pair of blue silk braces over his white shirt, Sipiagin was 
 about to brush his hair in the English fashion with two 
 brushes ; and Valentine Michai'lovna, who, with her shoes 
 on, was half lying down on a little sofa, was giving him 
 different bits of news about the management of the estate 
 and the paper factory, which, unfortunately, did not suc- 
 ceed as well as it should have done ; about the cook, who 
 would have to be dismissed ; about the church, where the 
 plaster had fallen, about Marianne, and about Kallomeitsef. 
 
46 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Frank confidence, a sincere friendship, existed between 
 the two ; they lived really in " love and unity," as the 
 phrase is ; and when Sipiagin, having finished his toilet, 
 asked- Valentine Michailovna, like a true knight, for her 
 little hand to kiss, and when his wife held out her hands to 
 him and watched him with proud tenderness kissing first 
 one and then the other, the feeling that their countenances 
 expressed was an honest and kindly one, although with her it 
 shone in eyes worthy of Raphael, and in him in the simple 
 " lucarnes " of an official. 
 
 At exactly five, Neshdanof came down to dinner, which 
 was announced, not by a bell, but by the prolonged roar 
 of a Chinese gong. 
 
 All the people were assembled again in the dining-room. 
 Sipiagin once more, over his white cravat, bade Neshdanof 
 welcome, and gave him a seat at table between Kola and 
 Anna Zakharovna. 
 
 Anna Zakharovna was an old maid, the sister of Sipiagin's 
 father ; she carried about with her a smell of camphor, like 
 a piece of clothing that has been lying for a long time in a 
 camphor trunk ; she seemed gloomy and restless. She 
 filled in the household the place of nurse or governess to 
 Kola, and when Neshdanof was placed between her and 
 her pupil, her wrinkled face expressed discontent. Kola 
 gave sidelong glances at his new neighbor ; the bright lad 
 soon guessed that his tutor was embarrassed : indeed 
 Neshdanof did not lift his eyes from his plate, and ate 
 hardly a morsel. Kola was not at all displeased at this ; he 
 had always been afraid that his tutor would be a severe, 
 bad-tempered man. 
 
 Valentine, too, was observing Neshdanof. " He looks like 
 a student," she thought, " and he doesn't know the ways of 
 the world ; but he seems interesting, and his hair is of a 
 rare color, like the apostles whom old Italian masters used 
 to paint red-haired, and his hands are well kept." 
 
 Moreover, all the guests were looking at Neshdanof ; 
 but they were kind to him and left him alone — at the be- 
 ginning ; and he, who felt that very distinctly, was at the 
 same time pleased and angered, though he did not know why. 
 
 It was Kallomeitsef and Sipiagin who kept the conversa- 
 
VIRGIN SOIL 41 
 
 tion going. They talked about the zemstvo, the governor, 
 the turnpike roads, tickets, their friends at Petersburg, and 
 Moscow, the Lyceum Katkof, which had just been opened, 
 of the difficulty of finding workmen, of ways of punishing 
 them, of the damage caused by wild beasts, of Bismarck, 
 of the war of 1866, and of Napoleon III., whom Kallomei't- 
 sef called a jolly fellow. The young chamberlain professed 
 the most retrograde opinions ; he even went so far as to 
 repeat a toast which one of his friends had proposed at a 
 certain quiet supper. " I drink to the only two principles 
 which I recognize," this proprietor, flushed with wine, had 
 cried. " To the knout and to Roederer ! " 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin frowned and remarked that this quotation 
 Vfas " de trks mauvais gout." As for Sipiagin, he expressed 
 the most liberal views ; he refuted Kallomeitsef with a sort 
 of easy politeness in which there was a touch of raillery. 
 
 " Your fears on the subject of emancipation, my dear 
 Simeon Petrovitch," he said, among other things, " remind 
 me of a report that the excellent and most respectable 
 Tveritinof handed in to a lofty personage in the year i860, 
 and which he read aloud in the parlors of St. Petersburg. 
 The finest phrase in this report was that the emancipated 
 peasants would not fail to wander over the face of the 
 whole country, torch in hand. You ought to have seen 
 Tveritinof puff out his little cheeks, open his eyes wide, 
 and cry out from his baby mouth, ' Torch, torch, torch in 
 hand ! ' Well, the emancipation has taken place- — where 
 are the peasants with the torches ? " 
 
 " Tveritinof," answered Kallomeitsef gloomily, " was mis- 
 taken on only one thing ; it's not the peasants, but other 
 people who will carry the torches." 
 
 At this moment, Neshdanof, who up to that time had 
 not once looked at Marianne — who was sitting on the same 
 side of the table with himself — exchanged a glance with 
 her, and he immediately felt that both this sullen girl and 
 he had the same convictions, and were striving for thesame 
 end. She had in no way struck him when Sipiagin intro- 
 duced him to her ; why was it with her that he happened to 
 exchange a glance ? At the same time a pang seized him : 
 was it not a shameful and disgraceful thing for him to sit 
 
^8 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 there and listen to such remarks and not protest against 
 them, giving them, by his silence, the right to believe that 
 he shared their opinions ? 
 
 Again his eyes met those of Marianne, and he fancied 
 that he read there an answer to his question, " Wait, the 
 moment has not come — it's not worth while — later ; there 
 will always be time enough." 
 
 It was pleasant for him to think that .she understood 
 him ; then he began to listen to the conversation once 
 more. Mme. Sipiagin had succeeded her husband ; she 
 went almost further than he did in freedom of opinion, in 
 radicahsm. She could not understand, she positively could 
 not understand, how a young, well-educated man could 
 cling to such old-fashioned routine. 
 
 " Besides," she added, " I'm sure you say such things ouly 
 out of mischief. As for you, Alexis Dimitritch," she said, 
 with a pleasant smile to Neshdanof, who was surprised to 
 find that she knew his Christian name, " I know you don't 
 share Simeon Petrovitch's uneasiness ; my husband has 
 told me about his talk with you on the journey." 
 
 Neshdanof blushed, bent his head over his plate, and 
 stammered a few confused words ; not from timidity, but 
 because he was not accustomed to talk with such great 
 people. Mme. Sipiagin continued to smile on him, while 
 her husband expressed his approval by a patronizing nod. 
 Kallomeitsef slowly raised his round eyeglass to his eye, 
 and began to examine this student who did not share his 
 ■^'uneasiness." 
 
 But that did not at all alarm Neshdanof ; on the con- 
 trary, the young man immediately raised his eyes and met 
 the stare of the haughty official ; and the same sudden im- 
 pression that had made him see in Marianne a friend, showed 
 him in Kallomeitsef an enemy. 
 
 Kallomeitsef, too, had the same impression ; he let his 
 glass fall, turned away, sought for a jest — and found none. 
 Anna Zakharovna alone, who had a secret veneration for 
 him, took his part, and Isecame angrier than ever with the 
 unlucky guest who had separated her from Kola. 
 
 The dinner was soon at an end. They went out on the 
 terrace to drink their coffee. Sipiagin and Kallomeitsef lit 
 
mRGIN SOIL. 49 
 
 their cigars. Sipiagin offered Neshdanof an imported re- 
 galia, but the young man refused it. 
 
 "Oh, yes!" exclaimed Sipiagin; "I forgot! you don't 
 smoke anything but cigarettes." 
 
 " That's a singular taste," muttered Kallome'itsef between 
 his teeth. 
 
 The student nearly burst out at that. He wanted to an- 
 swer, " I know perfectly well the difference between a re- 
 galia and a cigarette, but I don't want to owe anybody any- 
 thing." But he restrained himself, although not without 
 setting down this new bit of impertinence to the debit side 
 of his enemy's account. 
 
 " Marianne," said Mme. Sipiagin suddenly, "don't stand 
 on ceremony ; go and smoke your cigarette ; especially," she 
 added, turning toward Neshdanof, " especially as I under- 
 stand that in your set all the young ladies smoke ; don't 
 they ? " 
 
 " You are right, madame," answered Neshdanof dryly. It 
 was the first time he had spoken to Mme. Sipiagin. 
 
 "As for me, I don't smoke," she continued, half-closing 
 her velvety eyes with an appealing expression. " I'm be- 
 hind the times." 
 
 Marianne, slowly and methodically, as if out of bravado, 
 chose a cigarette, took a match from the box, and began to 
 smoke. Neshdanof, also, lit a cigarette from hers. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening. Kola and Anna Zakharovna 
 went into the garden ; the others sat for an hour on the ter- 
 race breathing the pure air. The conversation was tolera- 
 bly animated. Kallomeitsef made an attack on literature ; 
 Sipiagin, always liberal, defended the independence of let- 
 ters, showed their use, even quoting Chateaubriand, on 
 whom the Emperor Alexander Paulovitch had conferred 
 the order of St, Andrew, the first apostle. 
 
 Neshdanof took no part in this discussion. Mme. Sip- 
 iagin looked at him, and her expression seemed to say that 
 she approved of this discreet reserve, which yet somewhat 
 surprised her. 
 
 WJien tea was brought in, they all went back to the par- 
 lor. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Neshdanof," said Sipiagin, " we have here a 
 
50 VIRGIN soil.. 
 
 bad habit in the evening ; we play cards, and what is more 
 a game that has been forbidden : stukolka.* Just think 
 of it ! I won't ask you to join us. But Miss Marianne 
 will be kind enough to play on the piano for you a little. 
 You are fond of music, I'm sure, aren't you ? " 
 
 And without waiting for a reply he took up the cards. 
 Marianne went to the piano and played neither well nor ill 
 some of Mendelssohn's songs without words. 
 
 " Charming, charming ! What a delicate touch ! " shout- 
 ed Kallome'itsef loudly from the other end of the room. 
 
 In fact he had made the remark from mere politenes:; ; 
 as for Neshdanof, in spite of Sipiagin's confident asser- 
 tions, he did not care in the least for music. Mean- 
 while, Sipiagin, his wife, Kallome'itsef, and Anna Zakha- 
 rovna, had begun to play. Kola came to say good-night, 
 and having received his parents' blessing, and a great cup- 
 ful of milk, which was called tea, he went to bed. As he 
 was leaving the room, his father called out to him that he was 
 to begin his lessons with Mr. Neshdanof to-morrow. Soon 
 afterward, seeing that Neshdanof was left there in the mid- 
 dle of the parlor with nothing to do, and that he was pre- 
 tending to take an interest in a photograph album, he told 
 him not to stand on ceremony, and that he'd better go to 
 his own room and get a good night's sleep, especially as he 
 must be tired after the journey ; besides, liberty was the 
 rule of the house. 
 
 Neshdanof availed himself of this permission, bade them 
 all good-night, and left the room. On the threshold he 
 passed Marianne, whom he looked at full in the face ; she 
 not only did not smile, but she even frowned a httle, and yet 
 he felt again that she would be a friend and comrade to 
 him. 
 
 He found his room full of fragrant freshness ; the win- 
 dows had been open all day. In the garden, just opposite 
 his windows, a nightingale was uttering short, thrilling 
 notes ; and in the sky, above the rounding tops of the lin- 
 dens, was an indistinct, ruddy, warm light — it came from 
 the rising moon. 
 
 * A sort of lansquenet. 
 
VIKCIN SOIL. 
 
 5' 
 
 Neshdanof lit a candle ; gray moths, with powdery 
 wings, at once came flocking and whirling in from the dark 
 garden, and the wind that drove them made the blue and 
 yellow flame of the candle flicker. 
 
 " What a singular thing," thought Neshdanof, who was 
 already in bed. " The family and, indeed, every one here 
 seems good, liberal, humane even — and yet I feel very un- 
 comfortable. A chamberlain— a gentleman of the cham- 
 ber. Bah ! the morning light brings wisdom. Too much 
 sentimentality ! " 
 
 But at that very moment he heard the repeated blows 
 which the watchman struck upon a sheet of iron ; a voice 
 slowly cried : 
 
 " Watch ! " 
 
 "Watch ! " repeated another mournful voice. 
 
 " The devil ! " said Neshdanof to himself. " One would 
 think we were in a fortress." 
 
VIII. 
 
 NESHDANOF awoke early ; without waiting for a 
 servant to appear, he dressed himself and went out 
 into the garden. 
 
 It was a large and pretty garden, kept in admirable 
 order. Some hired laborers were raking the walks ; 
 through the dazzling green of the shrubs one saw, flitting 
 to and fro, the red handkerchiefs which served as head- 
 gear for little peasant girls, who were also armed with 
 rakes. 
 
 Neshdanof strolled along to the shores of the pond ; the 
 morning fog had cleared away, but some mist still hung 
 about the shady recesses of the bank. The sun, still low 
 in the sky, threw great rose-colored reflections on the 
 smooth, mirror-like surface of the water. 
 
 Five carpenters went and came by the foot-bridge ; a 
 new, freshly-painted boat swayed hghtly from side to side 
 on the water, making slight ripples around it. Quiet and 
 subdued voices were heard from time to time ; everything 
 breathed the calm of the morning, the conscientious assi- 
 duity of work well begun, the order and regularity of a 
 tranquil and well-established life. And around a turn of 
 the walk Neshdanof saw appear the very personification 
 of order and regularity, Sipiagin himself. 
 
 He wore a long green frock-coat — a sort of dressing- 
 gown — and a gayly striped cap ; he- leaned as he walked 
 on an English cane ; his freshly-shaven countenance 
 beamed with satisfaction ; he had come out to view his 
 domain. 
 
 Sipiagin inquired most affably after Neshdanof's health. 
 
 " Ah ! " he said, " I see you are young, but matinal." 
 (He used the word matinal in its real sense and not in the 
 figurative sense it has in the Russian proverb: "Young 
 
 52 
 
V/KGIjV soil. i;^ 
 
 but precocious." He doubtless meant to congratulate 
 Neshdanof on the fact that, like himself — Sipiagin — he was 
 not too much addicted to lying in bed.) " We all drink 
 tea, in the dining-room, at eight o'clock and breakfast at 
 noon ; at ten o'clock Kola will take his first lesson in Rus- 
 sian with you, and at two o'clock his history lesson. To 
 morrow, the 9th of May, his birthday, he will have no les- 
 sons ; but I will ask you to begin with him to-day." 
 
 Neshdanof assented ; Sipiagin took leave of him in the 
 French fashion, waving his hand several times before his. 
 face, and continued his way whistling, not like a loftj 
 dignitary, but like a worthy Russian country gentleman. 
 
 Neshdanof remained in the garden until eight o'clock 
 when the sound of a gong recalled him to the house ; ht 
 found the whole family assembled in the dining-room. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin gave him a most gracious reception ; ir 
 her morning dress, she seemed to him a perfect beauty 
 Marianne's face wore the concentrated and almost sever« 
 expression which was habitual to it. 
 
 Precisely at ten the first lesson began in the presence o\ 
 Mme. Sipiagin ; she first asked Neshdanof if her being 
 present would disturb him. And her demeanor, durinp 
 the lesson, was as retiring as possible. 
 
 Kola proved intelligent, and the first awkwardness and 
 hesitation past, the lesson went on famously. Valentine 
 Michai'lovna seemed perfectly satisfied with the teacher , 
 she spoke to him several times very kindly. He was 
 guarded in his behavior, but not too much so. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin was also present at the second lesson, 
 that on Russian history. She said, smiling, that she had 
 almost as much need of a teacher as Kola. She behaved 
 with as much discretion as during the morning's lesson. 
 
 From three to five o'clock Neshdanof remained in his 
 room to write to Petersburg. He felt very comfortable, 
 and no longer dissatisfied or troubled ; his irritated nerves 
 recovered little by little their normal tranquillity. They 
 were racked again, however, during dinner, although Kal- 
 lomeitsef was not there and the lady of the house con- 
 tinued to be very gracious to him ; but it was just this 
 patronizing air which irritated him. Besides, his neighbor 
 
54 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 at table, the old maid Anna Zakharovna, was evidently hos- 
 tile to him ; Marianne persisted in her seriousness ; Kola, 
 however, with rather excessive familiarity, kicked his legs 
 under the table. 
 
 Sipiagin himself seemed to be in a bad humor. He 
 was very much discontented with a German whom he 
 had brought at great expense to manage his paper fac- 
 tory. 
 
 Sipiagin railed at all Germans, and declared he was 
 a Slavophil up to a certain point, although not a fanatic on 
 the subject ; he spoke of a young Russian named Solo- 
 mine, who managed a factory for a neighboring merchant, 
 and managed it extremely well ; he wished very much to 
 make this Solomine's acquaintance. 
 
 Toward evening arrived Kallomei'tsef,, whose own estate 
 was only ten versts distant from Arjanova, as Sipiagin's 
 place was called. A justice of the peace came too, then 
 another land-owner, one of the kind whom Lermontof char- 
 acterized so neatly : 
 
 " Buried in his cravat, his coat reaching down to his heels, 
 Heavily mustached, with a dull look and a falsetto voice." 
 
 Another neighbor then came ; he had a horribly doleful 
 and toothless countenance, but was very neatly dressed. 
 The doctor of the district also came ; he was a poor phy- 
 sician, very fond of scientific terms, who announced, for 
 instance, that he greatly preferred Koakolink* to Pouch- 
 kine, because he had so much more " protoplasm. " They 
 began to play cards. Neshdanof retired to his room, 
 where he read and wrote till after midnight. 
 
 On the next day, the 9th of May, was celebrated Kola's 
 birthday, or rather his nameday. The family drove in a 
 body to church in three open barouches, with footmen up 
 behind, although it was not more than three hundred yards 
 from the house. Everything was done very correctly and 
 very superbly. Sipiagin mounted his broad red ribbon. 
 Mme. Sipiagin wore a superb Paris dress of pale lilac, and 
 during the service used a Httle prayer-book bound in crim- 
 
 * A mediocre dramatic poet. — Tr. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 55 
 
 son velvet ; some of the old peasants were much puzzled 
 by this little book, and one of them could not^ help whis- 
 pering to his neighbor : 
 
 " God forgive me, call she be telling her fortune ? " 
 
 The scent of the flowers with which the church was 
 filled, mingled with the stronger emanations from the peas- 
 ants' smockfrocks just newly cleaned with Sulphur and 
 from their freshly tarred boots and shoes ; and above all 
 floated the agreeable but somewhat stifling odor of incense. 
 The sub-deacons and sextons made praiseworthy efforts at 
 choir singing, and, aided by their factory workmen, they 
 even attempted a sort of concert. There was one rather 
 painful moment for their audience, when a tenor voice 
 (which belonged to one of the workmen named Klime, a 
 delicate, consumptive creature) launched out alone without 
 the slightest support, and attempted a series of chromatic 
 and minor scales ; these scales were terrible, but if they 
 had stopped, the whole concert would have fallen through. 
 At last it was over without too many accidents. Then Father 
 Ciprian, a priest of most imposing exterior, dressed in his 
 robes of honor, and wearing his chimney-pot hat, preached a 
 most instructive sermon, which he read from a little paper- 
 covered book ; unfortunately, however, the too conscien- 
 tious father considered it indispensable to quote the names 
 of some Assyrian kings, the pronunciation of which great- 
 ly troubled him, and, if he proved his erudition, he also 
 made himself most uncomfortably warm over them. 
 
 Neshdanof, who had not set foot in a church for a lor;g 
 . time, took refuge in a corner among the peasants. They 
 scarcely noticed him, they were so busily engaged in cross- 
 ing themselves, making deep inclinations, and carefully 
 wiping their children's noses ; but the Httle peasant girls, 
 dressed in new frocks, and with strings of glass beads hung 
 across their foreheads, and the little boys, in loose shirts 
 fastened in at the waist, and with red checked and enir 
 broidered suspenders, turned their heads in his direction, 
 and regarded the new-comer with open-mouthed curiosity. 
 Neshdanof also looked at them and thought— of a great 
 many things. 
 
 After the mass, which was a long one for, as every one 
 
56 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 knows, the prayer to Nicholas Thaumaturgus is one of the 
 longest in the liturgy, all those present at Sipiagin's invita- 
 tion directed their steps toward the seignorial mansion, 
 where they Avent through with some more appropriate cere- 
 monials, sprinkled holy water in all the rooms, and were dt 
 last gratified by a bountiful breakfast, during which the 
 conversation was generally edifying but somewhat dull. 
 
 The hosts themselves, although it was not their breakfast 
 hour, partook slightly, nevertheless, of the collation, mak- 
 ing a pretense at eating and drinking. 
 
 Sipiagin even deigned to relate a very proper, but some- 
 what amusing, anecdote, which, coming as il did from a 
 great dignitary decorated with a red ribbon, produced 
 what might be called a delightful impression. As to Father 
 Ciprian, this anecdote awoke in his heart a sense of grate- 
 ful admiration. 
 
 In his turn, to show that he also was capable of saying 
 something instructive on occasion, Father Ciprian told 
 them about the conversation he had had with the arch- 
 bishop when, in traveling through his diocese, he had sent 
 .or all the district priests to come and see him at the mon- 
 astery in the town. 
 
 " He is a strict man, very strict ! " Father Ciprian as- 
 sured them. " First, he questioned us about our parishes 
 and our revenues, then he put us through an examination. 
 ' What is the dedicatory feast of your church ? ' he asked 
 me. 'The Transfiguration.' 'And do you know the 
 chant for the day ?,' ' Certainly.' ' Sing it, then ! ' I ac- 
 cordingly sang ' Christ, our Lord, was transfigured on Ihe 
 Mountain.' ' Enough ! What is the Transfiguration, and 
 how must we interpret it ? ' I replied, ' Christ wished to 
 show himself in all his glory to his disciples ! ' ' Very 
 good,' said he ; ' here is a little image that I will give you 
 as a souvenir.' I knelt before him, and thanked him so 
 well that he did.not let me go away with an empty stomach." 
 
 " I have the honor of a personal acquaintance with his 
 eminence," said Sipiagin gravely. " He is a very merito- 
 rious priest." 
 
 " Very meritorious," Father Ciprian repeated. " Bui 
 he has a little too much confidence in the deans." 
 
VIRCIX SOIL. 57 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin then spoke of the village school in which 
 Miss Marianne was to teach ; the deacon and school in- 
 si)ector, a man of athletic frame, whose long, waving hair 
 somewhat recalled the well-combed mane of an Orlof stal- 
 lion, tried to express his approbation of this ; but not 
 having gauged the strength of his lungs, he roared so that 
 he frightened everybody, and was himself ready to sink 
 through the floor with embarrassment. After this the 
 clergy withdrew. 
 
 Kola, in his beautiful little jacket with gold buttons, 
 was the hero of the day ; he was overwhelmed with gifts 
 and congratulations, the factory people, the Dvorovie* — old 
 women, and little girls, came crowding into the back and 
 front staircases to kiss his hand ; the peasants, following 
 the old custom of the time of serfdom, were buzzing con- 
 fusedly about the tables placed in front of the house, and 
 laden with cakes and bottles of brandy. 
 
 Kola, half bashful and half delighted, proud and timid 
 in turn, was at one moment running about outside, at the 
 next, coming in to kiss his parents. At the end of dinner, 
 Sipiagin had some champagne brought, and before propos- 
 ing his son's health, made a speech. 
 
 He explained in the first place what doing one's " duty 
 here below" consists in, and what course he hoped to see 
 followed by his son Nicholas (for so he called him on this 
 occasion), and what ought to be expected of him in the 
 first place, by his family ; secondly, by society ; thirdly, 
 by the people — yes, gentlemen, the people — and fourthly, 
 by the government ! 
 
 Warming as he went on, he at last became really elo- 
 quent, while thrusting his hand — in imitation of Sir Rob- 
 ert Peel — into the breast of his coat ; he pronounced the 
 word " sctence " with emotion, and ended his discourse 
 by the exclamation laboremus, which he at once translated 
 into Russian. 
 
 Kola, glass in hand, went round the table to thank his 
 father, and kiss the company. Neshdanof exchanged 
 glances with Marianne. They probably felt alike in re- 
 
 * Dvorovie. Servants employed about the mansion-house. 
 
5S 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 gard to the proceedings. But they did not exchange a 
 word with each other. 
 
 This spectacle seemed to Neshdanof amusing and inter- 
 esting rather than repugnant or disagreeable, and the 
 amiable hostess, Valentine Michhailovna, seemed to him 
 an intelligent woman who knew that she was playing a part, 
 and who was at the same time secretly glad to be understood 
 by some one intelligent and clear-sighted enough to ... . 
 Neshdanof himself did not suspect to what a degree his 
 vanity was flattered by Mme. Sipiagin's demeanor toward 
 him. 
 
 The next day the lessons were taken up again and life 
 returned to its old routine. 
 
 A week slipped by unnoticed — as to Neshdanof 's impres- 
 sions and thoughts during this time, the best way to give 
 an idea of them will be to quote part of a letter which he 
 wrote to a certain Siline, his old college-chum and his best 
 friend. 
 
 This Siline did not live at Petersburg, but in a large 
 and remote city, with a distant relative on whom he was 
 entirely dependent. His position was so irrevocably fixed 
 that the idea of escaping from it never came into his head. 
 He was a delicate young fellow of a timid and not very 
 active mind, but an exceptionably candid soul. He es- 
 chewed politics, read a little, played the flute for amuse- 
 ment, and shunned young ladies. He had the warmest 
 affection for Neshdanof ; his heart was very open to affec- 
 tion. 
 
 Neshdanof was never absolutely himself except with 
 Vladimir Siline ; when he wrote to him it was as if he were 
 talking with a well-known and sympathetic being, who lived 
 in another world, or with his own inner consciousness, 
 Neshdanof never even thought of how he could* get along 
 again with Siline as his chum, or in the same town. If 
 this had happened, he would probably have soon cooled 
 toward him, for their two natures had very few points of 
 contact ; but he wrote to him spontaneously, frankly, and 
 at great leiigth. With other people — in his correspondence, 
 at least — he was somewhat pretentious and affected ; with 
 Siline, never. 
 
VIRGIN son. 
 
 59 
 
 Siline, unskillful with his pen, answered Neshdanof 's let- 
 ters seldom, and then in a few short, ill-turned phrases ; but 
 Neshdanof did not feel the need of long answers ; he knew 
 — and this was enough — that his friend absorbed every word 
 of his, as a dusty road absorbs drops of rain ; that he kep* 
 his secrets most sacredly, and that, lost in a solitude from 
 which he never escaped, he lived only in the life of his 
 friend. Neshdanof never mentioned to any one this cor- 
 respondence with Siline, which was more preciou" to him 
 than anything else in the world. 
 
 " Well, my good friend, my trusty Vladimir " (lor so he 
 always called him in his letters, and not without reason), 
 " congratulate me ! I've put myself out to grass, and 
 that will give me time to get strong iigain. I've taken a 
 situation with a rich dignitary, Sipiagin by name ; I teach 
 his cub ; I eat splendidly, I have never eaten so well in my 
 life ! I sleep like a log ; I stroll about at my leisure in a 
 very beautiful country, and, above all, I'm free at last from 
 the tutelage of my friends in Petersburg. At first I was 
 awfully bored, but now I've got the better of that. 
 
 " I shall soon have to take up my knapsack again, in 
 other words, allow myself to be taken up again, since I have 
 given myself out to be a regular mushroom, as the proverb 
 says. It was just for that reason that they let me go ;_but 
 meanwhile, I can give myself up to this pleasant animal 
 life. I can enjoy good eating, and even, if the fancy takes 
 me, write verses to you ! As for descriptions of the coun- 
 try hereabouts, you shall have them later ; the estate seenis 
 to me in very good order, excepting the factory, which is 
 in very poor trim ; the freed serfs are very hard to get at, 
 and as to the hired servants, they have much too elegant 
 an appearance ! But we will discuss all that by and by. 
 The family are so polite, so liberal ! The master of the 
 House is very condescending ; then, once in a while, he 
 straightens himself up and towers above the rest of us ; he is 
 a very civilized man ! His wife is a beauty and probably a 
 sly puss ; she has a way of watching people — and with all 
 that what softness ! One would say-that she had not a bone 
 in her body ! She quite staggers me ; you know what a 
 gallant cavalier I am ! There are some unendurable neigh- 
 
6o VIRCLV SOIL. 
 
 bors and an old woman who persecutes me ; but the person 
 who interests most is a young girl — a relation or companion 
 — I don't know which — with whom I have not exchanged 
 three words, but who seems to be of my stamp." 
 
 Then came a description of Marianne's appearance and 
 manners, and then he continued ; 
 
 " She is proud, unhappy, easily wounded, reserved, t Jt 
 above all, unhappy, there can be no question of that. 
 Why she is unhappy I don't yet know. She has an honest 
 nature, I am sure. Is she good ? that is another question. 
 
 " But can women be perfectly good if they are not stupid ? 
 And is it necessary that they should be ? To continue (I 
 know little about women), the mistress of the house does 
 not like her, in fact, there is no love lost between them. But 
 which of the two is in the right I don't know. I'm in- 
 clined to believe that the older woman is in the wrong, for 
 she is excessively polite to the girl ; whilst the latter 
 twitches her eyebrows if she merely speaks to her patroness. 
 Yes, she is a very nervous creature, and in that we are 
 alike. She is ' out of her element,' like me, although 
 from a different cause, probably. 
 
 '" When I find out how matters really stand, I will write 
 to you. 
 
 " I have already told you that she scarcely ever speaks 
 to me ; but in the few words that she has addressed to me 
 (always suddenly and unexpectedly), I see a sort of frank 
 friendliness, which is very pleasant to me. 
 
 " By the way, how long is that relative of yours going to 
 keep you on dry bread diet ? When will he get out of the 
 way ? 
 
 " Did you read an article in the last Messager d' Europe, 
 on the last pretenders to the government of Orenbourg ' 
 That took place in 1834, my dear fellow ! I do not like 
 this review, and the author of the article is a conservative , 
 but the thing is very interesting, and suggests many re- 
 flections." 
 
IX. 
 
 MAY V as near its close, and the firsthotdays of summer 
 wf.re beginning. After ending his history lesson, 
 Neshdanpf went out into the garden, and went from there 
 into the little grove of birch trees adjoining ; a part of the 
 ^vood had been cut down fifteen years before, and upon 
 this spot had sprung up a thick undergrowth of young 
 trees. Their stems rose close together and straight, like 
 little silvery columns encircled with gay hues ; their num- 
 berless little leaves were of a very bright, vivid green, as if 
 they had been washed and varnished ; the spring grass 
 darted its fine sharp tongues over the even couch of dead 
 leaves with which the past autumn had covered the ground, 
 The copse was all intersected with little paths ; the yellow 
 beaked blackbirds, with shrill cries of fright, flew along 
 these paths almost touching the ground, and hurled them- 
 selves headlong into the thicket. 
 
 After half an hour's walk Neshdanof seated himself on 
 an old stump, surrounded by heaps of blackened chips, 
 which lay just as they had fallen under the blows of the 
 axe — many times had the snows of winter covered them 
 and then melted away again in the spring, leaving them 
 undisturbed. 
 
 Neshdanof sat with his back turned to a close-growing 
 row of young birches whose short but thick shadow extended 
 the length of the clump. He thouglit of nothing ; he gave 
 [limself wholly up to that peculiar feeling which Spring- 
 time brings, and which in the heart of youth or age is 
 mingled with a sort of melancholy — the agitated melan- 
 choly of longing expectancy in the youth ; the quiet 
 melancholy of regret in the aged. 
 
 Suddenly Neshdanof heard a sound of approaching 
 steps. It was not a man walking alone, nor was it a peas- 
 ant with his heavy boots or wooden shoes, nor was it a 
 
 6t 
 
62 VIRGIN SOIL: 
 
 peasant girl with bare feet. There seemed to be two per- 
 sons advancing with slow, even steps, and there was the 
 slight rustle of a woman's dress. 
 
 Suddenly a hollow voice, a man's voice, was heard saying : 
 
 " Then that is your last word ? Never ? " 
 
 " Never ! " replied a woman's voice which was not un- 
 familiar to Neshdanof, and, a second after, around a turn ir 
 the path which led to the clump of young trees, Marianne 
 appeared accompanied by a man of dark, sallow complexion, 
 with black eyes, whom Neshdanof had never seen before. 
 
 At the sight of the young man, they both stopped as if 
 turned to stone, and he was so surprised by their sudden 
 appearance that he even forgot to rise from the tree stump 
 on which he was sitting. Marianne blushed to the roots 
 of her hair and then smiled scornfully. 
 
 For whom was this smile intended ; was it because she 
 had blushed, or was it meant for Neshdanof ? Her com- 
 panion knit his thick eyebrows ; a sudden sparkle came into 
 the yellow whites of his restless eyes. Then he exchanged 
 a look with Marianne and they both slowly and quietly re- 
 traced their steps, leaving Neshdanof, who followed them 
 with an astonished gaze. 
 
 At the end of half an hour he returned to the house and 
 went up to his room, and when, summoned by the sound 
 of the gong, he entered the drawing-room, he found the 
 same unknown swarthy man whom he had met 'in the 
 grove ; Sipiagin brought Neshdanof up to the new-comer 
 whom he introduced as his brother-in-law ; the brother of 
 Valentine Michailovna — Serge Michi'lovitch Markelof. 
 
 " I beg you, gentlemen, to make one another's acquaint- 
 ance, and to like one another, too," exclaimed Sipiagin with 
 the majestically affable and yet absent smile habitual to 
 him. 
 
 Markelof made a silent bow which Neshdanof returned ; 
 as for Sipiagin, slightly tossing back his small head and 
 shrugging his shoulders, he went away as if saying, "I 
 have introduced you to each other, and now whether or no 
 you make each other's acquaintance and like each other, 
 is a matter of the most perfect indifference to me." 
 
 Valentine Michailovna then came up to the silent ecu- 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 63 
 
 pie, presented the two men to each other over again, and 
 spoke to her brother with that bright caressing look which 
 she so well knew how to throw into her beautiful eyes. 
 
 " Well, cher Serge, you neglected us shamefully. You 
 did not even come to Kola's fete. Are you so very busy ? 
 He is trying to establish some new regulations among his 
 peasants," said she to Neshdanof ; " such an original idea ! 
 he gives them three-quarters of the profits and only keeps 
 one-quarter for himself ; and yet he thinks that he keeps 
 too much for himself." 
 
 " My sister is fond of joking," said Markelof in his turn ; 
 " but I agree with her that to keep for yourself a quarter 
 of what really belongs to a hundred people is taking more 
 than your share." 
 
 " Have you observed that I was fond of joking, Alexis 
 Dimitritch ? " asked Mme. Sipiagin with the same coquettish 
 softness in her voice and glance. 
 
 Neshdanof found nothing to answer, and just at that 
 moment Kallomeitsef was announced. The mistress of the 
 house stepped forward to greet him, and a few minutes 
 later, a servant appeared and in a solemn voice announced 
 that dinner was ready. 
 
 During dinner, Neshdanof could not resist looking, in 
 spite of himself, at Markelof and Marianne, who sat side 
 by side, both with lips contracted and eyes cast down — 
 their expressions somber, severe, and almost angry. Nesh- 
 danof asked himself how it could be that Markelof was 
 Mme. Sepiagin's brother — there was so little resemblance 
 between them ! 
 
 Both, it is true, had dark complexions ; but that delicate 
 opaqueness of face, hands, and shoulders which was one 
 of the perfections of Mme. Sipiagin's beauty, was, in her 
 brother, the dark tint which is politely called bronze color, 
 but which is really much more like the hue of undressed 
 leather. Markelof had curly hair, a slightly hooked nose, 
 thick lips, hollow cheeks, a thin body, and nervous hands. 
 His whole frame was dry and nervous. He spoke with a 
 rough, metallic, jerky voice. His eyes were dull and his 
 expression morose. He had, in short, all the character- 
 istics of the bilious temperament. 
 
64 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 He ate little, rolled up his bread into pellets, and glanced 
 from time to time at Kallomeitsef. The latter had just 
 come from the town, where he had been to see the gov- 
 ernor on a most unpleasant affair of his own — an affair 
 which he took good care not to mention, although chatter- 
 ing like a magpie. 
 
 Sipiagin kept him in check, as usual, when he began to 
 brag too much ; but he laughed heartily at his jokes and 
 stories, while calling him " a horrible reactionist." 
 
 Kallomeitsef related, among other things, how he had en- 
 joyed hearing the peasants — " Yes ! Yes ! " The simple 
 moujiks called lawyers " barkers." " Barkers," he re- 
 peated gleefully ; " the Russian people are delicious ! " 
 
 He then told how, during a visit which he paid to a public 
 school, he had asked the scholars what a cameleopard was, 
 and as no one, not even the schoolmaster, could answer his 
 question, he put a second question, " What is a baboon ? " 
 At the same time quoting the line from Khemnitsor, 
 
 " The silly baboon, who imitates the other animals." 
 
 and none could answer. " So you may see how useful 
 public schools are ! " he concluded. 
 
 " But allow me to remark," said Mme. Sipiagin, " that 
 I do not know, myself, what those animals are ! " 
 
 " Oh ! madame," cried Kallomeitsef, " there is no need 
 for you to know such things ! " 
 
 " Why then is there any need that the people should 
 know them ? " 
 
 " Because it would be better for them to know a baboon 
 or cameleopard than a Proudhon or an Adam Smith." 
 
 But here again Sipiagin put down Kallomeitsef, by de- 
 flaring that Adam Smith was one of the shining lights of 
 human intelligence, that one ought to suck in the principles 
 he teaches (he poured out a glass of Chateau-yquem, and 
 held it under his nose) with his mother's milk. 
 
 He emptied his glass. Kallomeitsef did the same, swear- 
 ing by all that was holy that it was exquisite wine. 
 
 Markelof did not pay great attention to the chamber- 
 lain's remarks, but t'-/ice he looked at Neshdanof with a 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 65 
 
 singular expression, and with his fingers snapped a pellet 
 of bread, which came near hitting the orator on the nose. 
 
 Sipiagin took little notice of his brother-in-law, nor did 
 Mme. Sipiagin talk with him ; they both evidently consid- 
 ered him an eccentric person who must be let alone and 
 not excited. 
 
 After dinner, Markelof went to smoke a pipe in the bil- 
 liard room, and Neshdanof returned to his chamber. In 
 the hall he nearly ran into Marianne. He tried to pass 
 her, but she stopped him with a gesture. 
 
 " Mr. Neshdanof," she said in faltering tones, " I ought 
 not to care what you think of me. I think — I think — " (she 
 paused in search of a word) " I think it best to tell you, 
 that this morning when you saw me in the woods with Mr. 
 Markelof — you wondered, did you not, why we both looked 
 so much disturbed, and why we were- there, as if by appoint- 
 ment ? " 
 
 " To tell you the truth," began Neshdanof, " it did seem 
 to me a little strange that — " 
 
 Marianne interrupted him. 
 
 " Mr. Markelof," said she, " made me an offer of mar- 
 riage, and I refused him. That was all I wished to tell 
 you, so now I will bid you good-night. And now you may 
 think what you please of me." 
 
 She turned abruptly away and went along the corridor 
 with hasty steps. 
 
 Neshdanof entered his chamber and seated himself 
 thoughtfully before the window. " What a strange girl ! 
 Why this extraordinary performance ? Why this uncalled- 
 for frankness ? Was it a desire to be singular, love of 
 talking, or pride ? Probably pride. She could not endure 
 suspicion. She could not bear that any one should form a 
 false opinion of her — a queer girl." 
 
 So meditated Neshdanof, and meanwhile they were 
 talking about him out on the terrace. He could hear every 
 word they said. 
 
 " My nose tells me," affirmed Kallomei'tsef, "my nose tells 
 me that he is a red republican ! In old times when I was 
 on a special mission with Ladislas, the Governor-General 
 o( Moscow, I had to have a great deal to do with such 
 
66 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 gentlemen, and also with raskolniks* and 1 have a first-iate 
 nose for them." 
 
 Kallomeitsef related, in this connection, how, one day, 
 on the outskirts of Moscow, he had caught by the heel an 
 old raskolink, whom he had pounced down upon unexpect- 
 edly with the police, and " who did not quite have time to 
 jump out of the window of the isba — up to that moment he 
 had sat quietly on his bench, the good-for-nothing." 
 
 Kallomeitsef forgot to add that this same old man, hav- 
 ing been taken to prison, had refused all food and starved 
 himself to death. 
 
 "As for your new tutor," continued this zealous gentle- 
 man, " he is certainly a red republican. Have you not no- 
 ticed how he never bows first ? " 
 
 " But why should he bow first ? " objected Mme. Sipia- 
 gin ; " I, on the contrary, think that is very proper in 
 him." 
 
 " I am a guest in the house where he works. Yes, yes, 
 where he works for money, like a hired servant ! Then I 
 am his superior ! It is his duty to bow to me first." 
 
 " You are exacting, my very good friend," interposed 
 Sipiagin, laying stress on the word " very." " Allow me to 
 say, that all these ideas of yours are much behind the 
 times. I may have bought his services, his work, but he is 
 none the less a free man." 
 
 " He does liot feel the bit ! " resumed Kallomeitsef ; 
 "these ' reds ' are all alike, I can always smell them out. 
 I know no one but Ladislas who can rival me on this point. 
 If this little tutor had fallen into my hands I should have 
 given him a good shaking ! Oh ! how I would have 
 shaken him ! He would soon have sung another tune, 
 and if he had dared wear his hat in my presence — you 
 would soon have seen. It would have been as good as a 
 play!" 
 
 " Bragging rascal ! " Neshdanof came near shouting from 
 his window. 
 
 But at just this moment his door opened, and to his great 
 surprise Markelof entered. 
 
 * Raskolink, malcontent, dissenter. 
 
X. 
 
 X TESHDANOF stood up, and Markelof walked straight 
 J_ \| up to him and said, without bowing or even smiling : 
 
 " You are really Alexis Dimitrief Neshdanof, student of 
 the University of St. Petersburg ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Neshdanof. 
 
 Markelof took from his breast pocket an unsealed let- 
 ter. 
 
 " In that case, read this. It is from VassiH Nicholai- 
 vitch," he added, lowering his voice significantly. 
 
 Neshdanof opened and read the letter. It was a sort of 
 semi-official circular, in which Serge Markelof was recom- 
 mended as "one of us" and worthy of all confidence; 
 then followed instructions upon the immediate necessity of 
 a common understanding, and of the propagation of ideas 
 among the people — he knew what sort of ideas. This cir- 
 cular was, besides, addressed to Neshdanof, as a man who 
 was also deserving of the most absolute confidence. 
 
 Neshdanof held out his hand to Markelof, offered him a 
 chair, and sat down himself. The visitor, before saying a 
 word, lit a cigarette ; Neshdanof followed his example. 
 
 " Have you had time to enter into relations with the 
 peasants here ? " asked Markelof at length. 
 
 " No, not yet." 
 
 " Have you been here long ? " 
 
 "About a fortnight." 
 
 " You are kept very busy ? " 
 
 " Not very." 
 
 Markelof coughed with a displeased look. 
 
 " Hum ! You can't much depend on the peasants 
 hereabouts," continued he ; " they are perfect nonentities. 
 They need teaching. There is great poverty among them, 
 and they have no one to explain to them the causes of 
 their poverty." 
 
 67 
 
68 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " But as far as one can judge, those who once were 
 your brother-in-law's serfs don't seem to be so very badly 
 off," objected Neshdanof. 
 
 " My brother is an expert in the art of throwing dust in 
 people's eyes. The peasants here don't count for any- 
 thing ; but there is a paper mill, and we will concentrate 
 all our efforts there. One blow of the pickax into that 
 ant hill, and you will see how stirred up they will be. 
 Have you any pamphlets with you ? " 
 
 " Yes, but not many." 
 
 " I will get you some. But how thoughtless ! " 
 
 Neshdanof did not answer ; Markelof silently blew smoke 
 through his nose for a few moments. 
 
 " What a miserable scoundrel that Kallome'itsef is," said 
 he suddenly ; " during dinner I had a strong desire to go 
 up to the gentleman and slap his insolent, little, ugly face, 
 and give him a lesson. But no ! in these times there are 
 more important things to do than thrashing chamberlains. 
 This is not the time to get angry with idiots who use bad 
 words ; it is much more important to prevent their doing 
 bad deeds." 
 
 Neshdanof nodded assent, and Markelof went on smok- 
 ing. " Among all the house servants," he began again, 
 " there is only one good fellow ; not your Ivan, he is neither 
 fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red herring ; but a certain Cyril, 
 one of the waiters." 
 
 This Cyril was known to be a perfect sot. 
 
 " Keep your eye on him. He's a complete drunkard ; 
 but we must not be too dainty. And what do you think of 
 my sister ? " added he brusquely raising his head and fix- 
 ing his yellow eyes on Neshdanof ; " she is even slyer than 
 my brother-in-law. What do you think of her ? " 
 
 " I think she is an amiable and very charming woman — 
 and besides she is very pretty." 
 
 " Hem ! You have such a refined way of saying things, 
 you Petersburg people ! I admire you ! And what do 
 you think of — " 
 
 Here Markelof's face fell, he frowned, and stopped with- 
 out finishing his sentence. 
 
 " I see," he resumed, " that we shall have plenty to talk 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 69 
 
 about, but not in this room. How the devil can we tell 
 that some one is not listening at the key-hole ? Come, to- 
 day is Saturday ; to-morrow I suppose you don't give my 
 nephew any lessons, do you ? " 
 
 " I have a kind of rehearsal of his work with him to-mor- 
 row at three o'clock." 
 
 " A rehearsal ? Why, it's exactly like the theater. My 
 sister must have invented that expression — but no matter. 
 Won't you come at once ? My place is only ten versts from 
 here. I have good horses who trot well ; you can pass the 
 night at my house, and I will bring you back to-morrow 
 morning before three o'clock ; do you agree ? " 
 
 " As you please," answered Neshdanof. 
 
 Since Markelof's arrival Neshdanof had been in a state 
 of over-excitement and disturbance. This unexpected 
 meeting troubled him, although Markelof inspired him with 
 sympathy. He felt, and saw, that this man, doubtless of 
 very narrow views, was certainly honest and strong. Be- 
 sides, Marianne's unexpected announcement. . . . 
 
 " That's right ! " cried Markelof. " Get ready and I 
 will go and tell them to put in my horses. I don't suppose 
 you have to ask leave of the master or mistress of the 
 house ? " 
 
 " I will tell them. It seems to me that I ought not to go 
 away without doing that." 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself," replied Markelof ; " I'll arrange 
 it all. Just now they are playing cards ; they will not notice 
 your absence. My brother-in-law flatters himself that he is 
 a statesman, but the only thing that he does really well is 
 playing cards. After all, many people have made their 
 fortunes in that way. You get ready, and I will see to 
 everything else." 
 
 Markelof went off. An hour after, Neshdanof was in- 
 stalled by his side, on a large leather cushion, in a very old, 
 wide, and comfortable tarantass ; a microscopic coachman, 
 seated on the end of a plank, whistled unceasingly, so that 
 it sounded like the gende twittering of birds ; the three 
 piebald horses, with braided manes and tails, trotted quickly 
 along on the smooth road ; and, in the falhng shadows of 
 night (they started just at ten o'clock), they saw glide rap- 
 
7C VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 idly past them, now in front and now behind, the trees, 
 bushes, fields, ravines, and meadows. Markelof's small es- 
 tate, which only contained four hundred acres, and brought 
 in an annual revenue. of about seven hundred rubles, was 
 named Borzionkovo ; it was situated at about three versts 
 from the town, from which Sipiagin's estate was seven versts 
 distant. To reach Borzionkovo, they were obliged to pass 
 through the town. 
 
 The new friends had not had time to exchange fifty 
 words, when they saw before them the wretched little 
 huts of the outskirts of the town, with their half-ruined 
 wooden roofs, and the patches of yellow light in the shat- 
 tered windows ; then the city pavements clattered beneath 
 the wheels of the tarantass, which began to be hurled from 
 one side of the street to the other ; then they passed jolt- 
 ing by the merchants' stupid houses with elaborate pedi-' 
 ments, the churches with their columns, and the inns. 
 
 It was Saturday evening ; there were few passing in the 
 street ; but, on the other hand, the taverns were crammed. 
 They could hear hoarse voices, drunken singing, min- 
 gling with the nasal sound of an accordion ; when a door 
 opened suddenly there came out a puff of close, hot air, 
 mixed with the harsh odor of brandy and the red glare of 
 the lamps. 
 
 Before the doors of most of the taverns the peasants' tel- 
 egas were standing ; the fat, long-haired horses, with heads 
 hanging down, seemed to be asleep. At times, a peasant, 
 with his shirt and waistcoat open, his belt loosened, on his 
 head a winter cap, of which the top hung down over his 
 back like a bag, would be seen staggering out of the tav- 
 ern, resting his chest against one of the shafts and standing 
 there still, groping about with his hands, as if seeking for 
 something ; or else it was some puny, feeble factory hand, 
 his cap all awry, his feet bare — his boots being left in pawn 
 at the tavern — who, after staggering a little, would stop, 
 scratch his neck, and, with a sudden exclamation, retrace 
 his steps. 
 
 " That's what's killing the Russian peasant — brandy ! " 
 said Markelof gloomily. 
 
 " It's *o drown sorrow, sir ! " answered the coachman. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. -1 
 
 without looking round. As he passed each tavern, he had 
 Stopped whistling and seemed to become absorbed in him- 
 self. 
 
 " Go on, go on ! " answered Markelof, tugging energeti- 
 cally at his own collar. 
 
 The tarantass crossed the broad market-place, which 
 was filled with the smell of cabbages and of matted linden 
 branches, passed before the governor's house, which was 
 flanked by two black and white striped sentry-boxes ; be- 
 fore the police-station with its signal tower ; followed the 
 boulevard, in which young trees had just been set out that 
 already were half dead ; it passed by the gostinno'idvor,* 
 whence was heard the barking of dogs and the creaking 
 of chains ; and, finally, it reached the gate, after passing 
 by a long, very long line of wagons which had started at 
 midnight to enjoy the coolness of the night ; soon the ta- 
 rantass came out into the open air, and began to roll more 
 rapidly and smoothly over the broad, willow-lined highway. 
 
 Markelof — for we must tell something about him — was 
 six years 'older than his sister, Mme. Sipiagin. He had 
 been brought up at the artillery school whence he came out 
 an officer ; but he resigned from his lieutenancy on account 
 of a disagreement with his commanding officer, a German. 
 Since that time he had detested the Germans, especially 
 Russian Germans. On account of this resignation he had 
 quarreled with his father whom he had not seen until he 
 was dying ; from him he had inherited the little estate on 
 which he lived. 
 
 In St. Petersburg he had associated with intelligent men 
 of advanced ideas, who inspired him with a sort of venera- 
 tion and who had given his mind a decisive impulse. He 
 read but little, and almost exclusively on political subjects, 
 Herzen's works especially. He had preserved his military 
 ways, and lived like a Spartan or a monk. A few years be- 
 fore he had fallen passionately in love with a young girl ; 
 ■but she had jilted him and married an aide-de-camp, — 
 again a German. Markelof now began to detest aides-de- 
 camp also. 
 
 *• Ccstinndidvoi: Russian bazaar ; a collection of bootlis. — Tr. 
 
72 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 He had tried to write professional articles on the defects 
 of the Russian artillery ; but not having the gift of stating 
 things clearly, he could never bring a single article to a 
 satisfactory conclusion, which, however, did not keep him 
 from blackening vast pages of foolscap with ill-formed, 
 boyish handwriting. 
 
 He was an energetic, obstinate man of great courage, 
 flrho could neither forgive nor forget, who was continually 
 hurt on his own account or that of the oppressed in general, 
 and he was ready for anything. , 
 
 His narrow mind was centered on a single object; what 
 he did not understand had no existence so far as he was 
 concerned ; but he despised and detested falsehood and 
 lying. With people of the upper classes — the reacs, as he 
 called them — he was rough and even rude ; with the lower 
 classes, simple ; with the peasants, as kindly as a brother. 
 
 He was a very moderately successful proprietor. He 
 kept turning over in his mind all sorts of socialist plans 
 that could never come to anything, any more than his 
 articles on the defects of Russian artillery. As a gen- 
 eral rule, he never succeeded in anything ; his fellow-officers 
 used to call him " the unlucky." His character was 
 frank and loyal, his disposition passionate and unhappy ; 
 but at any given moment he could appear pitiless, cruel, 
 deserving to be called a monster ; and at the same time he 
 was capable of sacrificing himself utterly without hesitation 
 and without reward. 
 
 Three versts from the town, the tarantass suddenly en- 
 tered the soft obscurity of a wood of aspens. The rustle 
 of invisible, trembling leaves, the fresh, pungent odor of the 
 still air, the vague glow above, the dark, confused shadows 
 below — it was evidently a wood the travelers were passing 
 through. The moon, red and broad as a brazen shield, 
 had just risen above the horizon. 
 
 The tarantass had hardly got out of the shadow of the 
 trees when it stopped before the buildings of a small estate. 
 In the front of a low house, of which the roof hid the moon, 
 three lighted windows stood out in shining squares, the 
 gateway was wide open, and seemed as if it had never been 
 closed. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL 73 
 
 In the courtyard there could be descried through the 
 darkness a tall kibitka, behind which two white post-horses 
 were tied, and two white dogs, which had suddenly sprung 
 up from no one knows where, filled the air with their loud 
 but not angry barking. There was coming and going in 
 the house ; the tarantass stopped before the door, and 
 Markelof feeling with his foot for the steps, which had been 
 placed, as is generally done by domestic blacksmiths, in the 
 most inconvenient spot, got out of the vehicle, saying to" 
 Neshdanof, 
 
 " We've got here at last, and you are going to see some 
 guests whom you know very well, but whom you did not 
 expect to meet. Walk in, please." 
 
XI. 
 
 THESE guests were our old acquaintances Ostrodu- 
 mof and Mashurina. They were sitting in the 
 meagerly furnished little parlor of Markelof's house, by 
 the light of a kerosene lamp, drinking beer, and smoking. 
 
 They were not surprised at Neshdanof's arrival, for they 
 knew that Markelof intended to bring him, but Neshdanof 
 was extremely surprised at seeing them. 
 
 When he came in, Ostrodumof said to him merely, 
 " Good-day, brother ! " 
 
 Mashurina's face suddenly flushed ; she held out her 
 hand without saying a word. 
 
 Markelof explained' to Neshdanof that their two friends 
 had been sent " for the common undertaking " which was 
 soon to be begun ; that they had left Petersburg a week 
 before ; that Ostrodumof would remain in the government 
 
 of S to get converts, and that Mashurina was going to 
 
 K to have an interview with one of the members. 
 
 Markelof grew very much excited, although no one had 
 contradicted him ; with flashing eyes, and continually gnaw- 
 ing at his mustache, he began to speak with evident emo- 
 tion, in a low but distinct voice, about the infamous things 
 tiiat were going on around them, and on the need of imme- 
 diate action ; he asserted that in reality everything was 
 ready ; that the slightest delay would be cowardice ; that 
 recourse to force was necessary, like the cut of a lancet 
 when an abscess is ripe. He repeated this comparison ot 
 the lancet several times ; it evidently pleased him ; he had 
 not invented it himself, he had read it somewhere. Hav- 
 ing no more hope that Marianne would share his feelings, 
 it seemed to him as if they need no longer delay, and he 
 Dnly thought of hastening the moment of beginning the 
 work. 
 
 74 
 
VIRGIN son.. 75 
 
 His sentences were short and direct like the blows of 
 an ax, going straight to the point with a sort of wrath. 
 His words fell slowly and monotonously from his pale lips, 
 like the hoarse barking of an old and vigilant watch-dog. 
 
 He declared that he knew well the peasants and work- 
 men of the neighboring mills, and that there were good 
 men among them, for instance, Eremei, in the Village of 
 (lalapliok, who would be ready for anything at any time. 
 He spoke continually about this Eremei of Galaplio'k. At 
 the end of every sentence he struck the table, not with his 
 palm, but with his fist, at the same time shaking before his 
 face the forefinger of his left hand. 
 
 These bony, hairy hands, this pointing finger, this hol- 
 low voice, these flashing eyes, made a deep impression. 
 During the drive, Markelof had said hardly a word to 
 Neshdanof ; his wrath had accumulated — it wd,s now pour- 
 ing over. Mashurina and Ostrodumof gave him approving 
 smiles and glances, sometimes they uttered a brief excla- 
 mation. As for Neshdanof, a singular phenomenon took 
 place in him. At first, he tried to raise objections ; he re- 
 called the inconveniences of haste, the danger to speedy, 
 ill-considered action ; he was especially astonished that the 
 decision had been made in that way without any delibera- 
 tion, without taking account of the circumstances, without 
 even asking exactly what it was that the people desired. 
 But gradually his nerves, which were as tense as wires, 
 began to vibrate quickly, and then with desperate ardor, 
 almost with tears of rage in his eyes, and with a voice 
 broken by cries and sobs, he began to speak to the same 
 effect as Markelof ; indeed, he went even further. 
 
 What had produced this change ? It would be hard to 
 say. Was it shame for his late hesitation, or anger with 
 himself and the others, or the need of overcoming some 
 gnawing restlessness, or the wish of making some manifes- 
 tation in the presence of the emissaries whom he found 
 there ? Or was it really the influence of Markelof's words 
 that had fired his blood ? 
 
 They talked all through the night ; Ostrodumof and 
 Mashurina had not stirred from their seats. Markelof and 
 Neshdanof had not sat down. Markelof remained standins; 
 
76 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 in the same place, like a sentinel, and Neshdanof was con- 
 tinually walking up and down the room with unequal steps, 
 sometimes slowly, then quickly. 
 
 They spoke about the steps they were to take, about the 
 means they should employ, of the division of the duty each 
 one should take in charge ; they selected and put in bun- 
 dles circulars and pamphlets ; they talked about a certain 
 Goloushkin, a rich merchant, a very trustworthy though 
 uneducated man ; of a young propagandist, Kisliakof, who 
 was to be sure very intelligent, but very hasty and with 
 rather too high an opinion of himself ; they also mentioned 
 Solomine's name. 
 
 " Who manages a mill ? " asked Neshdanof, who remem- 
 bered hearing the name mentioned at Sipiagin's table. 
 
 " Yes," answered Markelof ; " you must make his ac- 
 quaintance. We haven't sounded him yet, but he's a 
 serious, solid man." 
 
 Eremei of Galapliok came up again. They also spoke 
 of a Cyril at Sipiagin's, and of a certain Mendeleief, called 
 Dontik (the swollen), but they could not count much on 
 him ; when he was sober he was a capital fellow, but he 
 was of no use after he had been drinking, and unfortu- 
 nately he was pretty full all the time. 
 
 " And among your peasants," asked Neshdanof of Mark- 
 elof, " are there any on whom you can count ? " 
 
 Markelof answereii that there were, but he mentioned 
 none by name. He ]ilunged into remarks about people who 
 lived in the cities, and the seminarists, who would be of great 
 service on account of their immense physical strength ; when 
 they began to use their fists, then we should see ! 
 
 Neshdanof asked if they should have the co-operation of 
 any of the nobles. Markelof answered that they would, of 
 five or six, all young — one of them was a German by de- 
 scent and a radical ; " unfortunately it is well known that 
 no one can have any confidence in Germans. They will 
 betray you and desert you for a song. Besides, we must 
 wait for Kisliakof's reports." 
 
 "And the army ' the soldiers ? " asked Neshdanof. 
 
 At this Markelof hesitated ; he stroked his long side- 
 whiskers, and at last declared there was nothing decisive, so 
 
VIIiCIN SOIL. 77 
 
 ''ar, from that quarter, and besides they must wait for Kis- 
 liakof's reports. 
 
 " But who is this KisUakof ?" cried Neshdanof impatiently. 
 
 Markelof gave a meaning smile. 
 
 " He's a man," sa;id he, " a man — ^but, I must confess, I 
 hardly know him personally, for I've only seen him twice ; 
 but what letters he writes ! what letters ! I'll show them 
 to you. They are wonderful ! Such fire ! And how en- 
 ergetic he is ! He has traveled all through Russia at least 
 five or six times, and from every stopping-place he has sent 
 a letter of from ten to twenty pages." 
 
 Neshdanof looked inquiringly toward Ostrodumof, who, 
 however, remained as still as a statue. Mashurina, whose 
 lips were drawn by a bitter smile, did not stir either. 
 
 Neshdanof wanted to ask Markelof about the plan of 
 social reorganization which he was trying to estabUsh on 
 his estate, but he was interrupted by Ostrodumof. 
 
 " What's the good of talking about that now ? In one 
 way or another it will all have to be done over again after- 
 ward." 
 
 They began to talk politics again. Neshdanof's restless- 
 ness continued, and the more he felt the more furious and 
 pitiless were his words. 
 
 He had drunk but a single glass of beer, and yet at times 
 he felt as if he were drunk. His head swam ; his heart 
 beat with painful slowness. And when at last, toward four 
 in the morning, the discussion having come to an end, they 
 had all separated, taking care not to wake up a little serv- 
 ing-boy who was asleep in the anteroom, Neshdanof, be- 
 fore going to bed, stood motionless with his eyes fastened 
 on the floor. He kept hearing still the bitterness which 
 sounded in all of Markelof's words ; evidently this man's 
 pride had been wounded by Marianne's refusal ; he could 
 not help suffering from it ; his hopes of happiness were 
 crushed, and yet how completely he forgot himself, how 
 heartily he gave himself up to what he believed to be the 
 truth. " He's rather narrow-minded," thought Neshdanof ; 
 " but isn't it a hundred times better to be narrow-minded 
 like that than to be — to be, for instance, what I am at this 
 moment ? " 
 
78 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 ■Here he had a moment of revolt against this self-depre- 
 ciation. 
 
 " What ? Can't I sacrifice myself too ? Wait a little, 
 my friends — and you, Pakline, you will see some day that 
 a student of esthetics and a scribbler of verses — " 
 
 He tossed his hair back angrily, ground his teeth, and un- 
 dressing hastily, he flung himself into his cold, damp bed. 
 
 "Good-night!" said Mashurina's voice from the other 
 side of the door. " I'm your neighbor." 
 
 " Good-night ! " answered Neshdanof. 
 
 " What does she mean ? " he muttered to himself. Then 
 a wave of shame came over him. " Come, come, I must 
 go to sleep." 
 
 But his nerves refused to obey him — and the sun was 
 already high in the heavens when he at last fell into a 
 heavy, unrefreshing slumber. 
 
 He woke up late in the morning with a bad headache. 
 He dressed himself, looked out of the window of his room, 
 and saw that Markelof had no establishment, properly so 
 called. His little house was an isolated building not far 
 from a grove of trees. To the right a little bam, a stable, 
 a covered cellar, an isba with its roof of thatch half fallen 
 in ; on the left, a diminutive pond, a little kitchen garden, 
 a hemp-field, and second isba in as bad a condition as 
 the other ; further on an oven for heating grain, a httle' 
 floor for threshing wheat, and an inclosure for hay- 
 cocks — absolutely empty — such were all the magnificences 
 that lay spread before his eyes. All this poor and meager 
 display did not look as if it had fallen into decay, but as if 
 it had never flourished, like a tree that has never taken root. 
 
 Neshdanof went down stairs. Mashurina was in the din- 
 ing-room, seated before the samovar. She had probably 
 been waiting for him. He learned from her that Ostro- 
 dumof had gone off on his mission, and that he would not be 
 back for a fortnight ; as for the master of the house, he had 
 gone out to see his workmen. Since May was drawing to 
 an end, and there was not much to do, Markelof had formed 
 the plan of cutting away at his own expense his grove 
 of birches, and he had gone to his work very early. 
 Neshdanof felt very much dejected. They had talked so 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 79 
 
 much the night before of the impossibihty of delay, of the 
 absohite necessity of acting at once — but how were they to 
 act ? and immediately ! 
 
 It would have been useless to ask Mashurina any ques- 
 tions about it ; she was not conscious of the hesitation ; 
 she knew distinctly what she had to do — it was to go to 
 K ; she did not look further ahead than that. 
 
 Neshdanof did not know what to say to her ; after he 
 had drunk some tea he put on his cap, and started for the 
 birch grove. On his way thither he met some peasants, 
 former serfs of Markelof's, who had just been manuring the 
 fields ; he began to talk with them, but without much profit. 
 They too seemed tired, but with a physical, natural fatigue, 
 very different from what he felt. 
 
 Their former master, Markelof, was not, they said, a 
 proud man, only a little strange ; they predicted that he 
 would ruin himself, for " he doesn't undei-stand things ; 
 he wants to arrange everything in his own way, instead of 
 doing as our fathers did. And he knows too much, too ! 
 Do what you please, you can't catch him. Oh, he's a fine 
 man, after all ! " 
 
 Neshdanof went on his way, and met Markelof himself. 
 
 Markelof was walking in the middle of a band of work- 
 men ; it was evident from afar that he was talking and try- 
 ing to explain something, and then he made a gesture, as 
 if to say, " It's no use !' " Near him walked his assistant, a 
 near-sighted young man, who was by no means imposing in 
 appearance. He kept repeating continually, " It shall be 
 as you please," to the great disgust of the master, who 
 would have liked to have him suggest something on his own 
 account. 
 
 Neshdanof came up to Markelof, and saw on his face the 
 expression of the fatigue he himself felt. 
 
 They greeted one another ; Markelof began to talk, very 
 briefly, it is true, of the questions discussed the night be- 
 fore, of the imminence of a catastrophe, but his face wore 
 a no less weary look. He was covered with dust and 
 sweat, twigs and moss had caught on his clothes, his voice 
 was hoarse. 
 
 The men with him kept silence. It would be hard t^ 
 
8o VIRGIN SOU. 
 
 say whether they were afraid of him, or whether they were 
 laughing at him in their sleeves. 
 
 Neshdanof looked at Markelof, and those words of 
 Ostrcdumof's kept sounding in his ears, " What's the good 
 of talking of that now ? At any rate, it will all have to be 
 done over again afterward." 
 
 One of the workmen who had committed a fault begged 
 Markelof not to punish him . Markelof was vexed by this ; 
 he shouted with anger and then let him off. 
 
 " At any rate, it will all have to be done over again 
 afterward." 
 
 Neshdanof asked Markelof for a carriage and horses to 
 go back with ; Markelof seemed very much surprised at 
 this request, but answered that everything would be ready 
 in a few moments. He walked to the house with Nesh- 
 danof, limping as he went, like a man tired out. 
 
 " What's the matter with you ? " asked Neshdanof. 
 
 " I'm worn out ! " answered Markelof fiercely. " No mat- 
 ter how one talks to these people, there's no way of mak- 
 ing them understand, and my orders are never carried out. 
 They don't even understand Russian. They know the 
 ■vioxdfart — but take part — what does that mean ? take part. 
 They don't know. But it's good Russian. They think I 
 want to give them some of the land." 
 
 Markelof had been trying to explain to the peasants 
 the principles of association, and introduce the principle 
 among them ; but the peasants had obstinately refused. 
 After all his explanations, an old peasant had said to 
 him : 
 
 " The hole has always been deep, and now it's so deep 
 no one can see the bottom." And all the others had 
 sighed deeply, so that Markelof's patience was exhausted. 
 When he reached the house he dismissed the men, ordered 
 that the carriage be got ready, and breakfast served. His 
 household consisted of a kazatchok* a cook, a coachman, 
 and an extremely old man with hairy ears, who wore a 
 long calico caftan ; he had been his grandfather's vakt- 
 de-chambre. This old man was always looking at his 
 
 * A little groom. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 8 1 
 
 master with an expression of supreme sadness. He had no 
 work to do, and there was nothing, probably, that he could 
 have done ; but he always sat on the edge of the steps, wait- 
 ing to be called. 
 
 After breakfast, which consisted of hard-boiled eggs, 
 sardines, and hashed meat and onions (the kazatchok 
 handed around the mustard in an old pomade pot, and 
 the vinegar in a cologne bottle), Neshdanof got into the 
 tarantass, which had brought him over the evening before, 
 but instead of a troika there were only two horses ; the 
 third was lame, he had been hurt in shoeing. During this 
 meal, Markelof sat very silent, eating little, and breathing 
 heavily. He spoke two or three times very bitterly about 
 his estate, and again made the gesture of helplessness and 
 fatigue. 
 
 '' At any rate, it will all have to be done over again 
 afterward." 
 
 Mashurina begged Neshdanof to carry her as far as the 
 town, where she wanted to make some purchases. 
 
 " As for getting back," she said, " I shall probably find 
 a place in some telega ; besides, there's nothing to prevent 
 my walking back." 
 
 As he accompanied them to the steps, Markelof told 
 Neshdanof that he should go to see him soon, and that 
 then — this idea animated him once more — that then they 
 would make the final arrangements ; he added, that Solo- 
 mine would come too ; that he himself was only waiting 
 for a word from Vassili Nicholaivitch, and that then there 
 would be only one thing for them to do, to strike at once, 
 for the patience of the people was exhausted. 
 
 The patience of the people, of this same people, who did 
 not understand the words " take part." 
 
 " By the way," said Neshdanof, " those letters you were 
 going to show me ? The letters of — what's his name ? 
 Kisliakof ? " 
 
 " Some other time, some other time," answered Markelof 
 quickly. " We shall see all that at the same moment." 
 
 The tarantass started. 
 
 " Be ready," cried Markelof for the last time. 
 
 He was standing on the steps, and near him, with his 
 6 
 
82 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 eternal sadness on his face, with his hands clasped behind 
 him, straightening his bent form, disseminating an odor of 
 rye bread and old calico, and not hearing a word that was 
 said, was the faithful servant, the decrepit valet" de cham- 
 bre of his grandfather. 
 
 During the drive Mashurina smoked her cigarette in si- 
 lence. As they approached the town-gate, she suddenly 
 sighed. 
 
 " I'm sorry for that poor Markelof," she said, and her 
 face fell. 
 
 " Yes," answered Neshdanof ; " he takes a good deal of 
 trouble for nothing ; he doesn't seem very prosperous." 
 
 " Oh ! it's not on that account." 
 
 " Why is it, then ? " 
 
 " He is unhappy, he has no luck ! Where can you find a 
 better man than he is ? And yet— no, no one wants him." 
 
 Neshdanof looked at her. 
 
 " Have you heard anything ? " 
 
 " No, I've not heard anything. But every one feels that 
 — by himself. Good-by, Alexis Dimitrivitch." 
 
 Mashurina got out of the tarantass, and an hour later 
 Neshdanof drove up at Sipiagin's. He did not feel well. 
 The sleepless night, and then all these discussions and ar- 
 guments. 
 
 A charming face was looking at him from one of the 
 windows, smiling pleasantly. It was Mme. Sipiagin wel- 
 coming him back. 
 
 " What eyes she has," he thought to himself. 
 
XII. 
 
 AFTER dinner, at which there had been a number of 
 people, Neshdanof took advantage of the general in- 
 difference to his presence to get out of the way, and es- 
 caped to his own room. He felt the need of being alone, 
 were it only to set in order the impressions which he 
 brought back from his visit of the night before. 
 
 During the meal Mme. Sipiagin had several times looked 
 at him attentively, without having occasion to speak to him. 
 As to Marianne, since her unexpected action which had so 
 greatly surprised him, she appeared to feel a sort of awk- 
 wardness and to be trying to avoid him. 
 
 Neshdanof took up a pen. He wished to write to his 
 friend Siline, but he found nothing to say ; he could not 
 succeed in disentangling the multifarious ideas and im- 
 pressions with which his brain was filled, so he put off 
 writing till the next day. 
 
 Kallomei'tsef had been among the guests, and he had 
 never before shown off his disdainful arrogance so well ; 
 but the outrageousness of his discourse had little effect on 
 Neshdanof, who hardly noticed what he said. 
 
 The young man felt as if he were in a cloud ; it seemed 
 to him as if there were a thick curtain between himself and 
 the rest of the world ; and, strangely enough, through this 
 curtain only three faces were visible — these, women's faces 
 — who all obstinately fixed their eyes upon him. They 
 were Mme. Sipiagin, Mashurina, and Marianne. What did 
 this mean ? And why these three faces in particular ? What 
 had they in common ? And what were they to him ? 
 
 He went to bed early, but could not sleep. There came 
 to him sad thoughts, somber thoughts, black thoughts ; in 
 fact, thoughts of the inevitable end of all things, of ap- 
 proaching death. They gradually became familiar to him ; 
 he turned them over and over in his mind, now shrinking 
 
 8^ 
 
84 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 with secret horror from the thought of eternal annihilation, 
 now accepting it almost with joy. 
 
 At length he felt a peculiar emotion which was well 
 known to him. He rose, sat down before his desk, reflect- 
 ed a moment, and then wrote, almost without erasures, the 
 following lines : 
 
 " Dear friend, when I am dying, 
 These are my last wishes : 
 Destroy at once 
 All my useless papers. 
 Surround nie with flowers. 
 Let the sun into my chamber. 
 Behind the open door 
 Place musicians. 
 Forbid ihem all sad music ! 
 Let the insolent waltz. 
 As in the hour of festal gayety, 
 
 Give forth its piercing sounds under the violins' bows, 
 That, m drinking in with my failing hearing. 
 The dying sounds of the trembling chords, 
 I may die like them, I may sink to sleep ; 
 That, not having di.slurbed with vain groans 
 The calm which precedes the end, 
 I may go away into another world, 
 Cradled by the light sound 
 Of light joys here below." 
 
 In writing the word " friend," it was of Siline that he 
 thought. 
 
 He read over his verses half aloud, and was astonished 
 to see what had fallen from his pen. 
 
 This skepticism, this indifference, this light unbelief, 
 how did this agree with his principles, with what he had 
 said to Markelof ? 
 
 He threw the note-book into the drawer of his desk, 
 and went back to bed ; but he did not go to sleep until 
 morning, when the ringing song of the larks sounded like 
 little bells in the whitening sky. 
 
 The next day when he had finished giving his lesson 
 and had just sat down in* the billiard-room, Mme. Sipia- 
 gin entered, looked about hei, and approaching him with a 
 smile invited him to step into her boudoir. 
 
 She wore a light barege dress, which was very simple 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 8- 
 
 and very pretty ; the ruffled sleeves only reached to the 
 elbow, a broad ribbon sash encircled her waisi, her hair 
 fell in thick plaits on her neck. Everything about her 
 from the softened luster of her half-shut eyes, and the 
 careless languor of her voice, to her very step and move- 
 ments, breathed forth a gracious welcome and a caress — a 
 circumspect and encouraging caress. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin led the way to her boudoir. It was a 
 convenient and agreeable room, filled with the scent of 
 flowers and delicate perfumes, the fresh neatness of 
 woman's dress and the constant presence of woman. She 
 made him sit down in her easy-chair, sat down near him 
 herself, and began to ask him about his trip, about Mar- 
 kelof's manner of life, and all in such a subdued, gentle, 
 sweet way ! She showed such a sincere interest in every- 
 thing concerning her brother, of whom until now she had 
 never spoken in Markelof's presence ! Sortie of her words 
 allowed him to guess that the feeling inspired by Marianne 
 had not escaped her attention ; she seemed somewhat sad- 
 dened at it. Was this because the feeling had not been 
 shared by Marianne, or because her brother's choice had 
 fallen upon a young girl who was, in reality, a stranger to 
 her ? This point remained obscure. But above all things 
 she was really trying to tame Neshdanof, to inspire him with 
 confidence, to oblige him to drop his reserve ; Mme. Sipia- 
 gin seemed even troubled that he did not wholly under- 
 stand her. 
 
 Neshdanof listened to her, looked at her hands, her 
 shoulders, threw from time to time a glance at her rosy 
 lips, at the curls of her hair, which gently stirred when she 
 spoke. Neshdanof's replies were at first very brief ; he 
 felt an oppression on his chest and a lump in his throat. 
 
 Little by little this feeling was exchanged for another, 
 also disturbing, but not without charm ; he never could 
 have imagined that so distinguished and so pretty a woman 
 —an aristocrat — could feel any interest in him, a poor 
 devil of a student ; and not only was Mme. Sipiagin inter- 
 ested in him, but she was even' a little coquettish ! 
 
 " Why is she thus ? " he asked himself, but could find 
 no answer to the question. 
 
86 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 In truth he did not wish to find one. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin spoke of Kola ; she even began by tell- 
 ing Neshdanof that if she had sought an interview with 
 him it was with the sole intention of ascertaining his views 
 on the education of children in Russia. 
 
 The sudden fashion in which this wish had come to her 
 might well appear somewhat strange. In fact, it was quite 
 another motive ! The truth is, the real solution of the 
 enigma was that a vague touch of passion inspired her with 
 a wish to subjugate, to bend at her feet that haughty 
 head. 
 
 But we must go back a little. 
 
 Valentine MichaTlovna was the daughter of a very or- 
 dinary and obscure general who had only obtained one star 
 and a clasp* at the end of fifty years of service, and of a very 
 artful and crafty woman from Little Russia, who had the 
 simple, almost silly air so common to her country women, 
 and who made great use of it. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin's parents were not rich ; but she was 
 nevertheless educated at the convent of Smolna, where her 
 application and her exemplary conduct won for her the 
 good graces of her superiors, although she was looked upon 
 as a republican. 
 
 On leaving her convent (her brother was by that time in 
 possession of their small domain, the general having died), 
 she installed herself and her mother in a suite of rooms, 
 neatly furnished, but so cold that people's breath froze 
 while they were speaking. 
 
 Valentine used to say, smilingly, that it was like a church. 
 
 She bore courageously all the sufferings of this narrow 
 and poverty-stricken existence, thanks to her marvelous 
 equability of disposition. 
 
 With her mother's aid, she succeeded in making and keep- 
 ing quite a number of acquaintances ; every one, .even in the 
 highest circles, spoke of her as a very well educated young 
 girl and very coitime il faut. 
 
 * A clasp worn on the breast in which is inscribed in Roman fig- 
 ures the number of years a man has served in the army, counting 
 from twenty-five upwards. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. J 7 
 
 Aspirants to her hand were not wanting ; she chose Sip- 
 iagin among them all and made him in love with her in an 
 instant — in addition to which he felt from the first that she 
 would make the kind of wife he ought to have. She was 
 intelligent, not bad — rather good — cold and indifferent at 
 heart, although she would not allow other people to remain 
 indifferent toward her. 
 
 Valentine possessed that particular sort of dangerous 
 and tranquil grace which is peculiar to " lovable " egotists ; 
 that grace in which there is neither poetry nor real feeling, 
 but which expresses kindliness, sympathy, and even a sort 
 of tenderness ; only these charming egotists do not like to 
 be contradicted. They are despotic, and cannot bear in- 
 dependence in others. Such women as Mme. Sipiagin agi- 
 tate and stir up naive and passionate people ; while for 
 their own part they prefer a calm and regular hfe to all 
 else ; virtue is easy to them, nothing moves them ; but their 
 constant desire to rule, to attract, and to please, gives them 
 mobility and brilliancy ; they have a strong will in which 
 in great measure their power consists. When one of these 
 serene and impassible creatures seems suddenly to wake 
 up and become electric with involuntary and hidden lan- 
 guor, how is it possible to resist ? One says to oneself 
 that the ice is going to melt ; but the shining ice likes too 
 well to play with and reflect back the sunbeams ; it will 
 never melt, and never be broken. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin could well risk a little coquetry ; she 
 knew well that there was and could be no danger for her. 
 But to darken or brighten the eyes of another ; to call 
 upon another's cheek the flush of desire or fear ; to force 
 another's voice to tremble or break ; to trouble the soul of 
 another ; oh ! how she enjoyed it with all her heart ! And 
 at night when she stretched herself upon her white bed to 
 taste peaceful slumbers, what a pleasure there was in recall- 
 ing words full of emotion, suppliant looks, anxious sighs ! 
 When she deigned to receive the legitimate caresses 
 of that polished husband of hers, what a satisfied smile 
 played around her lips as she meditated upon her own in- 
 accessibility to emotion. These thoughts were so agree- 
 able to her that sometimes she felt really softened by them, 
 
88 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 and ready to perform some good action, to come to the aid 
 of another. 
 
 Once a secretary of legation, who was madly in love 
 with her, having cut his throat, she founded a little hospi- 
 tal in his honor. She had prayed sincerely for this young 
 man, although her religious sense had always been weak 
 from childhood upward. 
 
 Well, she talked with Neshdanof, trying by all the means 
 at her command to bring him to her feet ; she made herself 
 accessible, she unvailed herself, figuratively speaking, before 
 him, and she watched with an amiable curiosity, with a 
 quasi-maternal tenderness, how this pretty youth, this shy 
 and interesting radical came toward her with slow and 
 awkward steps. A day, an hour, a minute, and all this will 
 have disappeared without leaving any trace ; but in the 
 meantime, she felt pleasure mixed with a desire to laugh, a 
 little alarm, and even a slight degree of melancholy. For- 
 getting Neshdanof's birth, and knowing how people who 
 are alone in the world are pleased by questions of the 
 sort, she asked him about his childhood, about his fam- 
 ily. But she soon perceived, by the brief and embar- 
 rassed answers of the young man, that she had taken a 
 wrong tack, and laid herself out to make up for her mis- 
 take, just as a full-blooming rose in the penetrating 
 warmth of the summer noon spreads even wider her per- 
 fumed petals, which the strengthening freshness of the 
 night shall draw together and fold up again. 
 
 She did not wholly succeed, however, in repairing her 
 blunder. Touched to the quick, Neshdanof could not 
 feel as easy as before. The bitterness which he always 
 had within him, which he always felt in the depths of his 
 heart, came to the surface ; his democratic rancor and sus- 
 picion were a\yakened. 
 
 " Did I come here for this ? " thought he. 
 
 He remembered Pakline's mocking remarks — and taking 
 advantage of the first pause in the conversation, he rose, 
 bowed, and left the room " Mtement" as he said to him- 
 self. _ 
 
 His embarrassment did not escape Mme. Sipiagin's no- 
 tice. But to judge by the smile with which she accom- 
 
VIRGIW SOIL. 89 
 
 pariied his departure, she interpreted the embarrassment to 
 her own advantage. 
 
 On entering the billiard-room, Neshdanof met Marianne. 
 Her arms were closely folded, and she was standing with 
 her back to the window not far from the door of the bou- 
 doir. Her face was in a heavy shadow, but her fearless 
 eyes looked at the young man with such a persistent in- 
 terrogation, her closed lips expressed such disdain, such 
 imperious pity, that he stopped irresolutely. 
 
 " You have something to say to me ? " asked he. 
 
 Marianne waited a moment before answering : 
 
 " No — well, yes ; but not now." 
 
 ' When ? " 
 
 " We will see. Perhaps to-morrow, perhaps never. After 
 all I don't feel quite sure what you are." 
 
 " It seemed to me nevertheless," began Neshdanof, 
 " that between us — " 
 
 " And as for you, you do not know me at all," interrupted 
 Marianne. " But wait, to-morrow perhaps. Just now I 
 must go to my mistress. To-morrow." 
 
 Neshdanof started to go, then suddenly came back. 
 
 " By the way, Marianne Vikentievna, I have long wished 
 to ask permission to go to the school with you some time, 
 to see what you do there, before it is closed." 
 
 " Very well, but it was not of the school I meant to 
 speak to you." 
 
 " Of what then ? " 
 
 " I will tell you to-morrow," repeated Marianne. 
 
 But she did not wait till the next day. The conversa- 
 tion she wished to have with Neshdanof took place that 
 very evening, in one of the linden walks which led off not 
 far from the terrace. 
 
XIII. 
 
 SflE came up to him. 
 " Mr. Neshdanof," she began hurriedly, " you are, I 
 believe, completely fascinated by Mme. Sipiagin." 
 
 She turned without awaiting his answer, and walked 
 down the path ; Neshdanof joined her and walked along 
 by her side. 
 
 " What makes you think that ? " he asked after a mo- 
 ment's delay. 
 
 " Can I be mistaken ? In that case she must have taken 
 the wrong means for once. I can just see how she has 
 maneuvered, how she has reached out her little tentacles ! " 
 
 Neshdanof, without answering a word, looked covertly at 
 his strange companion. 
 
 " Listen," she continued. " I will speak frankly to you. 
 I don't like Mme. Sipiagin ; for that matter you have al- 
 ready perceived that fact. Possibly I seem to you unjust, 
 but wait before judging — " 
 
 Her voice failed. She blushed and was embarrassed. 
 With her, embarrassment always took the form of anger. 
 
 " You are doubtless wondering why this young lady, 
 whom you scarcely know, says all this to you. You prob- 
 ably thought the same thing when I told you that about 
 Mr. Markelof." 
 
 She suddenly stooped, picked a little mushroom, broke 
 it in two, and threw it to a distance. 
 
 " You are mistaken. Miss Marianne," said Neshdanof. 
 ' I thought, on the contrary, that I inspired you with con- 
 fidence, and that greatly pleased me." 
 
 Marianne glanced rapidly toward him. Until then she 
 had kept her head constantly turned away from him. 
 
 " It is not so much that you have inspired me with con- 
 fidence, but your position in life so nearly resembles my 
 
 QO 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 91 
 
 own. We are equally unfortunate, that is the link between 
 us." 
 
 " You are unhappy ? " asked Neshdanof. 
 " And you, are not you unhappy too ? " replied Marianne. 
 He kept silent. 
 
 " Do you know my history ? " said she impetuously. 
 " My father's history, his exile ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Well, then, let me tell you that he was tried and found 
 guilty, that he lost his rank, and everything, and that 
 he was exiled to Siberia. In short, he died. My mother 
 also died. My uncle, Mr. Sipiagin, my mother's brother, 
 took me in. I live at his expense ; he is my benefactor. 
 Valentine Michai'lovna is my benefactress, and I reward 
 them with the blackest ingratitude, probably because I have 
 a hard heart, and because the bread of others is bitter, and 
 I do not know how to bear the humiliation of a false indul- 
 gence, and I cannot endure being patronized, and do not 
 know how to escape it, and because, when I am perpet- 
 ually pricked with a pin, if I do not cry out, it is only 
 because I am proud." 
 
 Speaking in this way, in disconnected sentences, Ma- 
 rianne walked quicker and quicker. 
 
 Suddenly' she stopped. 
 
 " Do you know that my aunt, merely to get rid of me, 
 wishes me to marry that horrid Kallomeitsef ? She knows 
 my convictions, moreover. In her eyes I am a nihilist, 
 and in his ! Naturally I don't please him, as I'm not beau- 
 tiful ! but they can sell me, and this will be one more obli- 
 gation ! " 
 
 " Then, why," began Neshdanof, " have you not — " 
 
 He stopped. 
 
 Marianne glanced at him. 
 
 " Why did I not accept Mr. Markelof, you were going to 
 say, weren't you ? Yes, but how can I ? He is a worthy 
 man. But it is not my fault, I cannot love him." 
 
 Marianne again hastened her steps, as if to spare her 
 companion the necessity of replying to this unexpected 
 avowal. 
 
 They had reached the end of the path. 
 
92 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Marianne quickly turned into a narrow path which led 
 through a thick firwood, and walked down it. Neshdanof 
 followed her. He felt a double perplexity ; it seemed very 
 extraordinary to him that this gloomy young girl spoke to 
 him so frankly, and what still further astonished him was 
 that this frankness did not surprise him, but seemed to him 
 very natural. 
 
 Suddenly Marianne turned and stopped in the middle of 
 the path, so that her face was close to Neshdanof's. She 
 fixed her eyes on those of the young man. 
 
 "Alexis Dimitritch," said she, "don't think that my aunt 
 is wicked. No ; she is only a living lie ; she is an actress, 
 she poses ; she wishes to be adored by every one, for her 
 beauty, and to be at the same time venerated as if she were 
 a saint ! She invents a good phrase — very sincere — com- 
 ing from her heart even ; says it to one person, then re- 
 peats it to a second, a third, and always as if it had that 
 moment occurred to her, and then she uses her magnificent 
 eyes to some purpose ! She knows very well that she re- 
 sembles the Dresden Madonna, and she does not absolutely 
 love any one. She pretends to be always occupied with 
 Kola, and what she really does for him is to talk about him 
 with bright people. ' She does not wish any one ill, she is 
 all kindness ! But if you were torn limb from limb in her 
 presence it would be all the same to her ! She would not 
 stir a finger to serve you, and if your harm is her good — 
 then, oh ! then ! " 
 
 Marianne was silent, stifled with suppressed wrath ; she 
 had resolved to let it have free course, she could not con- 
 tain herself, and her words rushed forth in spite of herself. 
 Marianne belonged to a very unhappy class of persons often 
 to be met with in the Russia of the present day. Justice 
 satisfies them without making them happy ; and injustice, 
 to which they are terribly susceptible, disturbs them to the 
 bottom of their souls. While she spoke, Neshdanof looked at 
 her attentively ; her flushed face, with her short hair slightly 
 disordered, and the tremulousness of her finely curved lips, 
 looked menacing, portentous, and handsome, superbly 
 handsome. A ray of sun striking through the network of 
 closely intertwined branches, struck upon her forehead 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. gj 
 
 with a bright mark, and this tongue of fire accorded with 
 the excited expression of her whole face, with her brilliant 
 eyes whirh v/ere fixed and opened wide, and with the vibra- 
 tion of her voice. 
 
 "Tell me," said Neshdanof, at length, " why did you 
 call me unfortunate ? Do you know my past ? " 
 
 Marianne nodded, " Yes ! " 
 
 " But — what do you know ? They have told you about 
 ine ? " 
 
 "I know — your birth." 
 
 " You know — who told you ? "■ 
 
 "Who but she ! She as usual ! This Mme. Sipiagin with 
 whom you are so delighted ! She did not fail to say before 
 me, iri covert phrases, but very clearly, not compassionately, 
 yet with the air of a liberal person who is above all preju- 
 dice, what were the peculiar circumstances of this new 
 tutor's life. Don't be surprised, I beg you. Mme. Sipiagin 
 tells every new-comer, with compassion this time, what are 
 her niece's peculiar circumstances, how her father was 
 exiled to Siberia for peculation. She thinks she is a great 
 lady, but she is only a gossip and an actress, your Raphael 
 Madonna." 
 
 " Pardon me ! why my ' Madonna ' ? " 
 
 Marianne turned away, and began to walk along the 
 path again. 
 
 " You had such a long talk together ! " sJie said at 
 length, with a hollow voice. 
 
 " I hardly said a word," replied Neshdanof ; " it was she 
 who did all the talking." 
 
 Marianne continued to walk on, keeping silent. But at 
 a place where the path turned aside, fir trees seemed to 
 open out before them, a little clearing appeared, in the cen- 
 ter of which rose a weeping willow, whose old cracked 
 trunk was surrounded by a circular bench. 
 
 Marianne sat down on this bench, Neshdanof took his 
 place by her side. The long, drooping branches, covered 
 with young green leaves, slowly swayed above their heads. 
 Around them in the short grass grew white lilies-of-the- 
 valley, and in all the clearing the short grass exhaled a per- 
 fume which gave a pleasant sensation to their lungs, already 
 somewhat oppressed by the resinous smell of the firs. 
 
5,4 VIRGIX SOIL. 
 
 " Yo'J wished to see our school?" said Marianne ; "so 
 be it ; come. Only I do not think you will be much edi- 
 fied by it. You know, the deacon has charge of the school. 
 A worthy man, by the way ; but you can't imagine how 
 queer his teaching is ! Among the scholars there is one 
 named Gaross, an orphan, nine years old ; he is the best 
 scholar in the school." 
 
 One would have said that Marianne, in suddenly chang- 
 ing the subject of their conversation, was herself transformed 
 into another creature ; she grew pale and calm, and her face 
 expressed a sort of confusion as if she was ashamed of what 
 she had. said. She had a visible desire to lead Neshdanof 
 off on to any question whatever — about the school or the 
 peasants — anything — -so that she led him away from their 
 former subject of discourse. 
 
 But, just at this moment, no question could interest him. 
 
 "Marianne Vikentievna," said he, "frankly, I little ex- 
 pected all that — has taken place between us." (At the 
 words " taken place," Marianne made a slight movement.) 
 " It seems to me we have suddenly come nearer to each 
 other. But that had to come. For some time we have 
 been' walking toward each other, without yet exchanging 
 bows. It is for that reason that I speak to you so openly. 
 Your sojourn in this house is hard and painful to you ; 
 but your uncle, although a narrow-minded man, seems to 
 me a man of good feeling, as far as I can judge ; doesn't 
 your uncle understand your position ? Doesn't he take 
 your part ?" 
 
 " My uncle ? In the first place, he's not a man ; he's a 
 public functionary, senator, minister — I don't know what ! 
 Then, besides — I don't wish to complain foolishly and ca- 
 lumniate people ; life here is neither hard nor painful to 
 me. I am not oppressed ; my aunt's little pin-pricks are 
 really nothing in my eyes — I'm perfectly free." 
 
 Neshdanof looked at Marianne with stupefaction. 
 
 " In that case — all that you have told me — " 
 
 " Laugh at me as much as you please," interrupted she : 
 " but, if I'm unhappy, it's not because of my own misfor- 
 tunes. It seems to me at moments, that I suffer for all the 
 oppressed — the disinherited people, in Russia ; or, rather, 
 
VIRGIN SOU.. yj 
 
 I don't suffer, I get indignant, for them. I revolt ; I am 
 ready to give my life for them. I'm unhappy at being a 
 young woman, a dependant, and able to do nothing, noth- 
 ing—and capable of nothing. When my father was in Si- 
 beria, and I lived at Moscow with my mother, I wanted to 
 go and find him ! Not that I had any great affection or 
 respect for him, but I had a great desire to go and see 
 with my own eyes, feel in my own person, how exiled and 
 persecuted people live — and how irritated I was with my- 
 self and with all calm, plump, self-satisfied people ! And 
 then, when my father returned broken-down, worn-out, 
 when we had to humiliate ourselves, to solicit help, to 
 seek the good graces of those in power ; ah ! how painful 
 and miserable it all was I How right he was to die ! And 
 my mother, too ! As for me, I remained in this world ! 
 To do what ? I feel that I have a bad disposition ; that 
 I am ungrateful ; that I am of no use to any one ! " 
 
 Marianne turned aside, and her hand slipped down on to 
 the bench beside her. Neshdanof was filled with pity for 
 her ; he wished to take this neglected hand, but Marianne 
 quickly withdrew it ; not because Neshdanof's movement 
 seemed to her impertinent, but because she did not wish to 
 seem to beg for sympathy from any one. 
 
 A woman's dress was seen in the distance through the 
 fir woods. • 
 
 Marianne straightened herself. 
 
 " See ! " she said, " your madame has sent her spy ; that 
 chambermaid was charged to watch me and tell her where 
 I am, and with whom ! My aunt probably thought I was 
 with you, and she doesn't think that proper — particularly 
 after the sentimental scene she gave you the benefit of. 
 Besides, it's really time to go back to the house ; so come." 
 
 Marianne arose ; Neshdanof did the same. She looked 
 at him over her shoulder, and suddenly an almost childlike 
 expression came over her face, a look gracious and some- 
 what embarrassed. 
 
 " You're not angry with me, are you ? You will not 
 think that I too have treated you to a scene ? No, you 
 won't think that," continued she before Neshdanof had 
 time to reply. " Are you not unhappy likewise ? Isn't 
 
96 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 your temper bad like mine ? To-morrow we will visit the 
 school together like good friends, as we are now." 
 
 When Marianne and Neshdanof reached the house, 
 Mme. Sipiagin looked at them through her eyeglass, and 
 shook her head with the kindly little smile habitual to her ; 
 then, going through the long window which stood open into 
 the drawing-room, where Mr. Sipiagin was playing " Pref- 
 erence " with the toothless neighbor, she said, weighing 
 every syllable : 
 
 " How damp it is outside ! It is very unhealthy." 
 Marianne and Neshdanof exchanged glances. Sipiagin. 
 who had just beaten his adversary, threw toward his wife a 
 side-glance — a real ministerial look ; then this same sleepily 
 cold look he cast upon the young couple who had just come 
 in from the already dark garden. 
 
XIV. 
 
 A FORTNIGHT had passed by. Everything was go- 
 ing on in its usual routine. Sipiagin arranged each 
 day's work — like a minister, or at least like the director of 
 a department. He always kept up his air of affable but 
 somewhat bored superiority. Kola took his lessons. Anna 
 Zakharovna seemed possessed by a bhnd rage which she 
 dared not show. Visitors came, talked, and played cards 
 without seeming to get tired of it. Valentine MichaTlovna 
 continued to amuse herself with Neshdanof, although a 
 touch of gentle irony was mingled with her amiability. 
 
 Neshdanof had become quite intimate with Marianne, 
 and at last, to his great surprise, he made out that she had 
 quite an even temper, and that one might talk to her about 
 all sorts of things without meeting too sharp contradictions. 
 
 He went twice to visit the school with her, but the first 
 - visit showed him it was time wasted. The deacon was abso- 
 lutely master in the school by Sipiagin's express wish. 
 
 This deacon taught reading and writing — tolerably well 
 on the whole, although he employed an almost obsolete 
 method — but at the examinations he asked very curious 
 questions. Thus, one day, he had asked Gaross : 
 
 " How do you explain the passage of the Bible : The 
 dark waters in the clouds ? " 
 
 To which Gaross, as he had been taught by the deacon 
 himself, was to say, " The passage cannot be explained." 
 
 Moreover, the school was about to be closed — on account 
 of the midsummer work — until autumn. 
 
 Neshdanof, remembering Pakline's advice, and that of 
 his other friends, tried to scrape acquaintance with the 
 peasants ; but he soon saw that he was contenting himself 
 with studying them from the point of view of an observer, 
 and that he was not preaching the new doctrine to them. 
 
 7 97 
 
q8 virgin soil. 
 
 He was only accustomed to the city, having passed the 
 greater part of his life at Petersburg, so that between him 
 and the peasants there was an abyss which, with all his ef- 
 forts, he could not cross. 
 
 He had had occasion to exchange a few words with the 
 drunkard Cyril, and even with Mendelei Doutik ; but 
 singularly enough, he felt shy before them, and he had 
 never been able to draw from them anything more than 
 two or three violent but vague oaths. 
 
 Another moujik, named Fitui'ef, simply filled him M^ith 
 amazement. This peasant had an extraordinarily energetic 
 face, a real brigand's head. 
 
 " There, this is the sort of fellow we want," thought 
 Neshdanof. Now it happened that this Fitui'ef was a man 
 without hearth or roof, from whom the commune had 
 taken back his land, because he could not work. 
 
 " I can't," he sobbed, with his hollow, querulous voice, 
 and with deep sighs. " I can't work. Kill me if you want 
 to ! I would go hang myself rather than work." 
 
 He ended by turning beggar — by asking for one little 
 kopek to buy a little crust of bread. And he had this 
 bloodthirsty face withal, worthy of Rinaldo Rinaldini. 
 
 Neshdanof had no better luck with the mill-hands ; 
 some were terribly indifferent, others terribly reserved. He 
 could do absolutely nothing with them. He thereupon 
 wrote his friend Siline a long letter, in which he complained 
 of his incompetence, ascribing it to his faulty education 
 and his wretched esthetic tendencies. 
 
 He then imagined that his true occupation in the work 
 should consist, not in speaking, but in writing. But that 
 was no more successful. Everything which he put down 
 on p.qper seemed artificial and theatrical, false in expres- 
 sion and language ; and twice, to his horror, he strayed 
 into writing verse or into purely personal skeptical rev- 
 eries. 
 
 He decided — and it was a great mark of confidence and 
 intimacy — to speak to Marianne about his ill success ; and 
 again, to his great surprise, he found in her sympathy, not 
 for his writings, that of course, but for the moral malady 
 from which he was suffering, and which was not wholly 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 99 
 
 unknown to her. Marianne, like hirtiself, was an avowed 
 enemy of esthetics, and yet, by a contradiction which she 
 did not dare analyze, it was just this lack of esthetic tastes 
 in Markelof which had kept her from loving him. But 
 only that is strong within us which remains even for our- 
 selves a but half-suspected secret. 
 
 The days passed thus, slowly, unevenly, but without 
 being wearisome. 
 
 Neshdanof was in a singular state of mind. He was 
 dissatisfied with himself, with what he did, or, rather, what 
 he did not do ; his words almost always l3etrayed the bit- 
 terness of his self-reproaches, and yet, in the bottom of his 
 heart, in its most secret corners, he felt a certain comfort, 
 something that seemed really consoling. Whence could it 
 come ? From the calm of the country ? From the air, 
 the summer, the good cheer, the agreeable life ? Was it 
 perhaps because for the first time of his life he was enjoy 
 ing the pleasure one gets from the sympathy of a woman's 
 soul ? Whatever it was, in spite of the perfectly sincere 
 complaints he wrote to Siline, he did not wish to change. 
 
 Besides, Neshdanof's mind was about to receive a most 
 violent and unexpected shock in a single day. 
 
 One fine morning he received a letter from the myste- 
 rious Vassili Nicolaivitch, in which the order was given 
 that he and Markelof, while waiting for further instruc- 
 tions, should immediately make the acquaintance of Solo- 
 mine, and come to an understanding with him, as well as 
 with a certain merchant, an Old Believer, living in S . 
 
 This letter pained Neshdanof very much. He read 
 between the lines a direct reproach to his inactivity. The 
 bitterness which had only appeared in his words now filled 
 his whole being. 
 
 At dinner time Kallomeitsef came in great wrath an<3 
 excitement. 
 
 " Only think," he cried, almost breaking down, " what 
 a horrible thing I've just read in the paper ! My friend, 
 my good Michael, Prince of Servia, has been assassinated 
 by some wretches at Belgrade. Where will these Jaco- 
 bins, these revolutionists stop, if they are not held by a 
 hand of iron ? " 
 
100 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Sipiagin " begged leave to remark " chat this abominable 
 murder was not committed by Jacobins, " whose exist- 
 ence in Belgrade was exceedingly problematical ; " but by 
 people of the party of Kara-Gheorgi, who were enemies of 
 the Obrenovitch. 
 
 But Kallomei'tsef would not listen to a word ; he went on 
 in the same lachrymose voice to say what a friend the 
 prince had been to him, and what a magnificent gun he had 
 given him. As he went on, his own words excited him, and 
 from/oreign Jacobins he turned to the Nihilists and Social- 
 ists at home, against whom he launched his thunderbolts. 
 He took a bit of bread in his two hands, and breaking it 
 over his soup, as is done by the habitues of the Cafe Riche, 
 he expressed a desire to break, crush, and grind to powder 
 those who were in opposition " to anything or anybody." 
 That was his own expression. 
 
 " Now is the time," he cried, carrying his spoon to his 
 mouth. " Now is the time," he repeated, holding his 
 glass to the waiter who was pouring out the sherry. 
 
 He spoke with veneration of the prominent writers of 
 Moscow, and " Ladislas, our dear, good Ladislas," was con- 
 tinually on his lips. • 
 
 During his whole speech he intentionally kept his eyes 
 fastened on Neshdanof, as if to say, " There, that's for you ! 
 and you can take that slap ! and that ! and that ! " 
 
 The young student finally lost his temper, and in a rather 
 hoarse, it is true, and somewhat tremulous voice (not trem- 
 ulous from fear, however), he began to defend the hopes, 
 the principles, and the aims of the younger generation. 
 
 Kallomei'tsef began at once to whine (when he was angry 
 he always spoke in a falsetto voice), and he became rude. 
 
 Sipiagin majestically defended the young man ; Valen- 
 tine Michailovna followed her husband's example ; Anna 
 Zakharovna tried to distract Kola's attention, and cast angry 
 glances on all sides from underneath the floating ribbons of 
 her cap ; Marianne did not stir, but sat there as if she were 
 turned to stone. 
 
 But suddenly, when he heard Ladislas's name mentioned 
 for the twentieth time, Neshdanof flew into a passion, and 
 striking the table with the palm of his hand, he said : 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. ,01 
 
 " He's an excellent authority ! As if we didn't know all 
 about this Mr. Ladislas. A hired assassin, nothing else ! " 
 
 " Eh, what, what ? " shouted Kallomeitsef, stammering 
 with rage. " You dare talk in that way about a man who is 
 very highly thought of by such persons as Count Blasen- 
 krampf and Prince Kovrijkine ? " 
 
 Neshdanof shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " A capital recommendation ; Prince Kovrijkine, that 
 enthusiastic flunkey — " 
 
 " Ladislas is my friend," cried Kallomei'tsef. " He's my 
 comrade, and I — " 
 
 " So much the worse for you," interrupted Neshdanof. 
 " That means that you share his views of things, and my 
 words can apply to you as well as to him." 
 
 Kallomei'tsef turned very pale. 
 
 " Why ? what ? you dare ? You deserve instantly — " 
 
 " What is it, sir, that I deserve instantly ? " interrupted 
 Neshdanof again, with ironical politeness. 
 
 Heaven alone knows how this clapperclawing of the 
 two enemies would have ended, if Mr. Sipiagin had not 
 hastily put a stop to it. He raised his voice, and threw 
 himself into an attitude in which it would have been 
 hard to say whether it was the gravity of a statesman, 
 or the dignity of the master of the house that predom- 
 inated, and declared with calm firmness that he did 
 not care to hear any longer at his table such improper 
 expressions ; that for a long time he had made it a rule 
 — an inviolable rule, he said, correcting himself — to re- 
 spect every one's convictions ; but on the express condition 
 that (here he raised his forefinger, which was adorned with a 
 seal ring) they should be kept within the limits of dignity 
 and propriety ; that if, on the one hand, he could not help 
 blaming in Mr. Neshdanof a certain extravagance of lan- 
 guage, on the other hand, he could not approve the warmth 
 of Mr. Kallomei'tsef 's attacks on the persons in the opposite 
 camp, a warmth, he might add, which was to be explained 
 by his zeal for the public welfare. 
 
 " Under my roof," he concluded, " under the roof of the 
 Sipiagins, there are neither Jacobins nor assassins ; there 
 are only honorable people, who, after they fully understand 
 one another, are ready to shake hands." 
 
I02 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Neshdanof and Kalloniei'tsef both kept silence, b\it ihey 
 did not shake hands ; evidently the time for understand- 
 ing one another had not come. Far from it ; they had 
 never detested one another so intensely. 
 
 The meal was finished in painful silence. Sipiagin tried 
 to repeat a diplomatic anecdote, but he broke down half- 
 way. 
 
 Marianne kept her eyes on her plate. She did not wish 
 to betray the sympathy which was aroused in her by Nesh- 
 danof 's words. She was not at all afraid, but she felt it 
 necessary to be on her guard before Mme. Sipiagin, who, 
 she felt, was watching her closely. 
 
 The fact is, that Mme. Sipiagin was continually looking 
 at Marianne and Neshdanof. The young student's sud- 
 den outburst had at first astonished her ; then she had a sort 
 of revelation, a sudden flash of light, which had made her 
 exclaim involuntarily, " Ah ! " All at once Mme. Sipiagin 
 had understood that Neshdanof was breaking loose from 
 her ; Neshdanof, who, not long before, seemed ready to 
 come at her call. What had happened ? Could Marianne — 
 Yes, no doubt — he pleased her — and she — ■" 
 
 " I shall have to see to that," thought Mme. Sipiagin, 
 concluding her -reflections. 
 
 Meanwhile Kalloniei'tsef was bursting with rage. Two 
 hours later, in playing "Preference," he kept saying "Pass,"' 
 or " I take it up," with an imbittered heart ; and although 
 he tried to seem above everything of that sort, his voice was 
 tremulous from the unavenged insult. 
 
 Sipiagin alone was positively enchanted with this scene. 
 He had had an opportunity to air his eloquence, to calm 
 the rising storm — Sipiagin knew Latin, and the Quos, 
 ego of Virgil was familiar to him.* He did not compare 
 himself in so many words to Neptune, but just at that mo- 
 ment the memory of that god was not displeasing to him. 
 
 * " Quos ego — ! Sed motos prsestat componere flectus, 
 Post mihi non simili p^iena commissa luetis " — 
 Neptune's address to tlie troubled sea in the first book of the ^uieid, 
 
XV. 
 
 AT the first convenient opportunity, Neshdanof with- 
 drew and went to the solitude of his own room. 
 He did not want to see any one, any one except Marianne. 
 
 The young girl's chamber was at the end of a long cor- 
 ridor which divided the whole upper floor. Neshdanof had 
 never been in her room except once for a few minutes, as 
 he was passing by ; but it seemed to him as if that evening 
 she might not be angry if he were to knock at her door, and 
 even as if she might be glad to talk with him. 
 
 It was tolerably late, about ten o'clock. The master 
 and mistress of the house, since the scene at dinner, had 
 paid no more attention to Neshdanof, and were playing 
 cards with Kallomeitsef. Mme. Sipiagin had twice asked 
 for Marianne, who had also disappeared after dinner. 
 
 " Where can Marianne Vikentievna be ? " she had twice 
 exclaimed, first in Russian, and then in French, without 
 addressing any one in particular, but staring at the walls, as 
 people do who are surprised, after which she had at once 
 gone on with the game. 
 
 Neshdanof walked up and down his room for some time, 
 then he went along the hall to Marianne's door and knocked 
 gently. There was no answer. He knocked a second 
 time, and tried to open it. The door was locked, but he 
 had hardly time to return to his own room and sit down, 
 before his own door creaked slightly, and he heard Mari- 
 anne's voice : 
 
 "Alexis Dimitritch, was it you who knocked at my door ? " 
 
 He sprang to his feet and rushed to the hall. 
 
 Marianne was standing pale and motionless at the door, 
 with a candle in her hand. / 
 
 " It was I— yes," he murmured. 
 
 " Come," she answered. 
 
 She went along the hall ; but before reaching the end 
 
 i°3 
 
104 VIRGIN SOIL 
 
 she stopped before a low door which she pushed open. 
 Neshdanof saw a little, almost empty, room. 
 
 " Let's come in here, Alexis Dimitritch ; we shan't be 
 disturbed." 
 
 Neshdanof obeyed. Marianne set her candle down in a 
 window-seat and turned toward him. 
 
 " I know why you wanted to see me," she said ; " you 
 find life in this house hard. So do I." 
 
 " Yes, I wanted to see you, Marianne Vikentievna," an- 
 swered Neshdanof ; " but my life is no longer hard since I 
 have learned to know you." 
 
 Marianne smiled thoughtfully. 
 
 " Thank you, Alexis Dimitritch ; but tell me, do you 
 mean to stay here after all this bad treatment ? " 
 
 " I think I shan't stay, because they'll send me off," an- 
 swered Neshdanof. 
 
 " But wouldn't you refuse to stay ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Do you want to know the real reason ? Because jc^» 
 are here." 
 
 Marianne bowed her head and withdrew a little toward 
 the back of the room. 
 
 " And then," Neshdanof went on, " I am obliged to re- 
 main here. You don't know, but I will tell you every- 
 thing. I feel it is my duty to speak out frankly." 
 
 He approached Marianne, and took her hand ; she did. 
 not withdraw it. 
 
 " Listen ! " he cried with a sudden and violent transport ; 
 " listen to me ! " 
 
 And at once, without taking the trouble to sit down on 
 one of the two or three chairs which composed the furni- 
 ture of the room, standing before Marianne and still hold- 
 ing her hand, Neshdanof, with a fire, an excitement, and 
 eloquence which carried him on, told the young girl about 
 his plans, resolutions, and the cause which had induced him 
 to accept Sipiagin's propositions ; he spoke of his relatives, 
 his past, of all his secrets which he never told any one, of 
 the letters he had received, of Vassili Nicholaivitch, of 
 everything, even of Siline. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. ,05 
 
 He spoke rapidly, without interruption, without hesita- 
 tion, as if he reproached himself for having delayed so long 
 confiding his secrets to Marianne, as if he wanted to justify 
 himself before her. 
 
 She listened with eager attention. Her first impression 
 had been one of profound astonishment. But this feeling 
 disappeared almost instantly ; gratitude, devotion, firm res- 
 olution, filled her soul. Her face, her eyes, grew bright. 
 She placed her hand that was free on Neshdanof's ; her lips 
 opened with an expression of enthusiasm. She had sud- 
 denly become wonderfully handsome. 
 
 He stoppea at last, looked at her, and it seemed to him 
 that he saw for the first time this face which was at the 
 same time so dear and so familiar to him. 
 
 He breathed slowly, deeply. 
 
 " Ah, I've done right to tell you everything ! " he mur- 
 mured with some effort. 
 
 " Yes, you have done right — you have done right," she 
 said in a low voice ; involuntarily she had begun to imitate 
 Neshdanof ; and then she caught her breath. 
 
 " You know, don't you, that I am at your disposal ; that 
 I want, too, to be useful to your cause ; that I'm ready to 
 do whatever is necessary, to go wherever I'm ordered ; 
 that I have always, and with my whole soul, wanted what 
 you want ? " 
 
 She, too, was silent. Another word, and tears of sympa- 
 thy would have rolled from her eyes. Her strong nature 
 had suddenly become as soft as wax. A thirst for action, 
 for self-sacrifice, for immediate self-sacrifice, was now con- 
 suming her. 
 
 At that moment, light, furtive, quick steps were heard on 
 the other side of the door. 
 
 Marianne straightened herself, and freed her hands. She 
 had changed completely ; she had become almost gay. But 
 now a disdainful and bold look flashed over her face. 
 
 " I know who's playing the spy upon us, now," she said 
 so loudly, that every one of her words echoed in the hall. 
 " It's Mme. Sipiagin who's eavesdropping. But it rrakes no 
 difference to me." 
 
 The sound of steps ceased. 
 
lo6 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " Well," said Marianne to Neshdanof, " what am I to do r 
 How can I be of use to you ? Speak, speak quickly ; what 
 am I to do ? " 
 
 " I don't know yet," answered Neshdanof. " I have re- 
 ceived a letter from Markelof." 
 
 ■• When ? When was that ? " 
 
 " This evening. I must go with him to-morrow to Sol- 
 omine's mill." 
 
 " Yes, yes. What an excellent man Markelof is ! What 
 a true friend ! " 
 
 " Like me ? " . 
 
 Marianne looked Neshdanof straight in the face. 
 
 " No ; not like you." 
 
 " How then ? " 
 
 She turned away. 
 
 " Ah, you don't know yet what you have become to me, 
 and what I am feeling at this moment." 
 
 Neshdanof's heart began to beat swiftly and strongly ; 
 involuntarily he cast down his eyes. This young girl who 
 loved him, him, a homeless vagabond, who intrusted herself 
 to him, and was ready to follow him, to march with him to- 
 ward one and the same end ; this fearless young girl, Mari- 
 anne, became in a moment for Neshdanof the embodiment 
 of all that is good and generous on earth ; the embodi- 
 ment of the feminine, paternal, family friendship that he 
 had never known — the embodiment of country, happiness, 
 effort, and liberty. 
 
 He raised his head, and he saw Marianne's eyes again 
 fastened on his. Oh ! how that clear, frank look sank to 
 the bottom of his soul ! 
 
 " So then," he resumed with an uncertain voice, " I go 
 away to-morrow. And when I come back, I will tell you " 
 (he found it hard now to %a.j you), "Til tell you what I've 
 heard — what has been decided. Starting from to-day, what- 
 ever I shall do or think, I shall tell to thee." 
 
 " Oh, my friend ! " cried Marianne, seizing his hand 
 again, " I shall do the same with thee." 
 
 This thee had come as easily and simply as one might 
 use it to a comrade.* 
 
 * But for greater naturalness, this form will not be kept up in the 
 translation. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 107 
 
 " Can I see the letter ? " 
 
 " Yes ; here it is." 
 
 Marianne ran it over, and raised her eyes to Neshdanof 
 with a sort of veneration. 
 
 " And do they intrust such an important mission to you ? " 
 
 He answered by a smile, and returned the letter to his 
 pocket. 
 
 " It's strange," he said then ; " we have convinced one 
 another of our love, and yet not a word of love has been 
 uttered between us." 
 
 " Where was the need ? " murmured Marianne ; and sud- 
 denly she flung herself on to his neck, resting her head on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 They did not exchange a kiss, that would have been vul- 
 gar, and at the same time terrible ; such at least was their 
 feeling about it, and they separated at once, after a hearty 
 pressure of the hand. 
 
 Marianne took up the candle which she had placed in 
 the window-seat of this empty room, and only then did she 
 have a feeling of amazement. She blew out the candle, 
 glided through the hall in the thick darkness, reached her 
 room, undressed, and went to bed — still in the darkness, 
 which seemed to her, at that moment, a pleasant and a 
 friendly shield. 
 
XVI. 
 
 WHEN he woke up the next morning, Neshdanof fel', 
 no regret at recalling what had taken place the 
 evening before ; on the contrary, he was filled with a calm 
 and peaceful joy, as if he had accomplished something 
 which had been hanging over his head for a long time. 
 
 After having asked Sipiagin for two days' leave of absence, 
 which was granted him without hesitation, although some- 
 what coldly, Neshdanof started for Markelof's. 
 
 Before going he had had time to see Marianne. She was 
 no longer confused or embarrassed ; she looked at him 
 calmly and spoke to him quite as calmly. She was only 
 uneasy about what he might hear at Markelof's, and she 
 besought him to tell her everything. 
 
 " Certainly I shall," answered Neshdanof. 
 
 " In fact," he thought, " why should we be disturbed ? 
 In our relations to one another personal feeling has played 
 a subordinate part, and we have united ourselves for- 
 ever, in the name of the work. Yes, in the name of the 
 work." 
 
 So Neshdanof thought, and he by no means suspected 
 how much truth and falsehood there was in this belief. 
 
 He found Markelof in the same state of mind, angry and 
 tired. After they had dined meagerly, they started off in 
 the tarantass, which has already been described (Markelof's 
 leader was still lame ; its place had been taken by a 
 peasant's colt, hired for the journey, which had never been 
 in harness before), for the merchant Fale'ief's large cotton 
 mill, of which Solomine was the superintendent. Neshdanof's 
 curiosity was very much excited ; he felt very anxious to 
 make the acquaintance of this man, of whom he had for a 
 long time heard so much. 
 
 Solomine was expecting them ; as soon as the two 
 
 io8 
 
VI A' CI. V SOIL. 109 
 
 ' Strangers arrived before the door and had sent in their 
 names, they were introduced into the wretched little house 
 where the superintendent lived. He was at that moment 
 in the main building ; while one of the workmen went to 
 announce his visitors, they had time to go to the window 
 and look about. 
 
 The mill was evidently very prosperous and overrun 
 with work ; on all sides arose a hoarse roar, the clatter of 
 incessant activity ; ■ the engines puffed and rattled ; the 
 looms buzzed, the wheels whirred, the leather straps 
 hummed ; from all quarters, carts, casks, and telegas were 
 •being filled ; cries, orders, the snapping of whips filled 
 the air. Workmen with their shirts bound around their 
 waists, and their hair fastened by a little strap, workmen 
 in faded calico gowns, were hastily crossing the courtyard, 
 while horses in carts were walking slowly and heavily by. 
 Might like that of a thousand human beings could be felt 
 vibrating, palpitating, and beating about them. It was 
 moving smoothly, without interruption, with full strength. 
 
 Not only was there no elegance anywhere, nor even any 
 attempt at it, but the simplest cleanliness was lacking ; in- 
 deed, everywhere was carelessness, filth, mud, and old soot ; 
 here was a broken window, there some fallen mortar, else- 
 where some tumbling planks in a wall ; a yawning doorway, 
 the door having lost its hinges ; a great black pool, its stag- 
 nant surface glistening with decay, filled the middle of the 
 principal courtyard, near some heaps of loose bricks. Bits of 
 matting, of wrappings, of boxes, rope-ends, lay on the damp 
 ground ; shaggy, hungry-looking dogs were roaming about, 
 without even barking ; a little boy about four years old, 
 with a prominent belly, his hair in disorder, covered with 
 soot, was sitting in a corner, leaning against a fence, and 
 crying as if the whole world had forsaken him ; close by 
 him, and covered with the same soot, surrounded by her 
 motley-colored sucklings, a sow was eating some stumps of 
 cabbages ; ragged clothes were hanging along a line. And 
 what a stench ! what vile exhalations ! A real Russian 
 mill, not an English or French factory 
 
 Neshdanof turned toward Markelof. 
 
 " I've heard so much said," he began, " about Solomine's 
 
: 10 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 exceptional qualifications, that I confess all this disorder 
 surprises me ; it's not what I expected." 
 
 " It's not disorder," answered Markelof with some 
 warmth. " It's Russian dirtiness. Yet there are millions 
 invested here ! Soloraine is obliged to consider his em- 
 ployer's old habits, and enterprise, and character. Have 
 you any notion what sort of a man Faleief is ? " 
 
 " None at all." 
 
 " He's the biggest skin-flint in Moscow. He's not a gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 At that moment Solomine came in. This was another 
 disenchantment for Neshdanof. At the first glance Solo- 
 mine looked to him like a Finn, or rather, like a Swede. 
 
 He was tall ; a very light-complexioned man, thin and 
 strong ; his face was long and sallow, his nose short with 
 broad nostrils ; he had little green eyes, a calm and confi- 
 dent expression, strong, somewhat prominent lips, large 
 white teeth, a square chin, just covered with a light down. 
 
 He wore the dress of a workman, of a fireman — an old 
 jacket with yawning pockets, an oil-silk cap full of creases, 
 tarred boots, and a woolen scarf about his neck. 
 
 There came in with him a man about forty years old 
 who looked like a gipsy, as much by the extreme mobility 
 of his face, as by his bright black eyes, which quickly 
 swept over Neshdanof. He already knew Markelof. He 
 was named Paul, and was a sort of a factotum of Solo- 
 mine's. 
 
 Solomine went up to his two visitors without saying a 
 word, shook their hands with his own hard hand, took out 
 from c drawer a sealed packet, and without saying a word 
 gave it to Paul, who at once disappeared. Then he 
 stretched himself, cleared his throat, threw off his cap with 
 a wave of his hand, sat down on a painted wooden stool, 
 and pointing to a bench of the same kind, he said to the 
 visitors : 
 
 " Sit down, please." 
 
 Markelof first introduced Neshdanof to Solomine ; he 
 grasped the new-comer's hand for the second time. 
 
 Then Markelof began to talk about the " work," and 
 about Vassili Nicholai'vitch's letter. Neshdanof handed the 
 
VIRGIX SOIL. 1,1 
 
 letter to Solomine. While he was reading it, going from 
 one line to another attentively and without haste, Neshda- 
 nof looked at him. 
 
 Solomine was sitting near the window ; the sun, already 
 low, lit clearly his sun-burned face on which lay a few 
 drops of perspiration, and his light hair, covered with dust, 
 on which were shining a crowd of little golden points. 
 Sulomine's nostrils dilated slightly during the reading, and 
 he moved his lips as if he were pronouncing every word ; 
 he held the letter firmly in both hands directly in front of 
 his eyes. All this, heaven knows why, made a favorable 
 impression on Neshdanof. 
 
 Solomine gave the letter back to the young man, smiled, 
 and began to listen again to Markelof, who had been talk- 
 ing for some time. When he had finished, 
 
 " See here," said Solomine, in a somewhat husky, but 
 young and strong voice, which also pleased Neshdanof, 
 " this is not a very convenient place for talking ; let us go 
 to your house, it's only seven versts. You came in a tar- 
 antass, didn't you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Good ! there will be room enough. My work will be 
 over in an hour, and I shall be free. . We will talk. You 
 are free too ? " he asked Neshdanof. 
 
 " Until day after to-morrow." 
 
 " Very well ; we'll pass the night there. You are agreed, 
 Serge Michaelovitch ? " 
 
 " What a question ! of course." 
 
 " Very well ; I shall be ready very soon, only let me 
 spruce myself up a little." 
 
 " And how are matters in the factory ? " asked Markelof 
 meaningly. 
 
 Solomine averted his eyes. 
 
 "We'll talk about that," he repeated. "Wait; I'll be 
 back in a moment. I've forgotten something." 
 
 He went out. Had it not been for the good impression 
 he had made on Neshdanof, the young student would 
 probably have thought and perhaps said, " Isn't he good 
 stuff ? " but it didn't occur to him that there was any need 
 of this question. 
 
112 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 An hour later, while every floor was discharging a noisy 
 crowd of workmen, down the staircases, through all the 
 doors, a tarantass, in which were seated Markeloi, Nesh- 
 danof, and Solomine turned through the main gateway into 
 the high road. 
 
 " Vassili Fedoitch ! " shouted Paul to Solomine, whom he 
 had accompanied to the gate. " Shall we begin ? " 
 
 " Wait a little while," answered Solomine. "It's about 
 some business," he explained to his companions. 
 
 They reached Borzionkovo, and went through the form 
 of eating a supper ; and after lighting their cigars, they 
 began one of those interminable all-night talks, familiar to 
 Russians, but unknown to any other people. 
 
 Once more Solomine surprised Neshdanof. He spoke 
 remarkably little, so little that one might say he did not 
 speak at all ; but he listened with unrelaxing attention, and 
 when he said anything it was to the point and very brief. 
 
 It turned out that Solomine did not believe that a revo- 
 lution was impending in Russia ; but not wishing to force 
 his opinion on the others, he let them say their say, and 
 listened to them, not coldly and distantly, but sympatheti- 
 cally. He knew well the revolutionists of Petersburg, 
 and, up to a certain point, he sympathized with them, for 
 he was one of the people ; but he also took into account 
 the inevitable indifference of the people, without whom, 
 nevertheless, nothing could take place, and the long prep- 
 aration they needed, but of another sort and toward a 
 wholly different end. That is why he kept aloof, not 
 like a crafty man who is hedging, but like a sensible man 
 who does not care to throw away uselessly himself or any 
 one else. As to listening to them, why should he not ? and 
 he might learn something. 
 
 Solomine was the only son of a church chorister ; he 
 had five sisters, all married to priests and deacons ; but, 
 with the consent of his father, who was a sober, serious 
 man, he had left the seminary and devoted himself to 
 studying mathematics, and mechanics especially, for which 
 he had taken a great fancy. An Englishman, the superin- 
 tendent of a mill into which he had entered, and who had 
 grown to love him as a son, had given him the means to gc 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 113 
 
 to Manchester, and stay two years there, learning EngUsh. 
 Having recently entered the Moscow merchant's mill, he 
 was stern with his subordinates, because he had seen that 
 was the way in England ; and yet they were attached to 
 him. 
 
 " He's one of us," they said. 
 
 His father was very proud of him, calling him a " punc- 
 tual man," and only regretting one thing, that he did not 
 get married. 
 
 During this conversation, Solomine, as we have said, was 
 almost continually silent ; but when Markelof began to talk 
 of the hopes he had of the mill-hands, Solomine, with his 
 usual brevity, pointed out that workmen in Russia were the 
 mildest class possible, and totally unhke the workmen of 
 other countries. 
 
 " And the moujiks ? " asked Markelof. 
 
 " The moujiks ? There are a certain number of monopo- 
 lists among them, and there will be more every year ; but 
 they only know one thing, their own interests ; as to the 
 others, they are sheep — and what dense ignorance ! " 
 
 " But where shall we turn ? " 
 
 Solomine smiled. 
 
 " Seek and you shall find." 
 
 He smiled almost all the time, and his smile, like every- 
 thing about him, was natural and thoughtful. He was 
 particularly gentle to Neshdanof ; the young student 
 aroused in him a feeling of sympathy, almost of tender- 
 ness. 
 
 There was a moment when Neshdanof suddenly flushed 
 crimson from excitement ; Solomine rose slowly, crossed 
 the room with measured steps, and closed a window that 
 was open over Neshdanof's head. "You mustn't catch 
 cold," he said kindly, as if in answer to his look of sur- 
 prise. 
 
 Neshdanof then asked what socialist ideas he intended to 
 introduce in the mill of which he had charge, and if he 
 intended to divide the profits among the workmen. 
 . " My poor fellow," answered Solomine, " the owner 
 kicked like a mule against letting us merely found a school, 
 and a little bit of a hospital." 
 
114 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Only once did Solomine get really angry ; he struck his 
 sturdy fist so hard on the table before him that he made 
 everything jump, including a forty-pound weight which 
 stood by the side of the inkstand ; it was about an unjust 
 judgment, and the persecutions inflicted on an artel* of 
 workmen. 
 
 When Neshdanof and Markelof began to talk about the 
 measures to be taken in order to put their plans into action, 
 Solomine continued to listen with curiosity, even with re- 
 spect, but he did not say another word. 
 
 They sat up till four in the morning, and what was there 
 that they did not talk about ? Markelof spoke, among other 
 things, of the indefatigable traveler, Kisliakof ; of his let- 
 ters, which were always growing in interest ; he promised 
 Neshdanof that he would show him some, and even lend 
 him some to read at home, they were so long, and the 
 hand-writing was somewhat hard to read, and especially 
 because they contained so much. They contained even 
 verses, not trivial or frivolous poetry, but poetry with 
 social aims. 
 
 From Kisliakof, Markelof branched off to soldiers, 
 aides-de-camp, Germans in the Russian service, and even 
 to his articles on artillery. Neshdanof spoke of the antag- 
 onism between Heine and Bcerne, of Proudhon, and realisrn 
 in art. 
 
 As for Solomine, he listened attentively, smoking his 
 cigar and smiling constantly ; but, without saying one strik- 
 ing word, he yet seemed to understand the truth better 
 than the others. 
 
 Four o'clock struck — Neshdanof and Markelof were 
 so tired they could hardly stand, but Solomine was still 
 fresh. They separated after agreeing to go next morning 
 to the town, to see the merchant Goloushkine — the Old 
 Believer — and get converts. Goloushkine was full of 
 enthusiasm, and he had promised proselytes ! Solomine 
 began by expressing a doubt : 
 
 "Was it really worth while to go see Goloushkine?" 
 Then he ended by saying, " Why not ? " 
 
 * Artel. A society of young men of the same trade, a rudimentarj 
 co-operation society, sucn as has long existed-in Russia. 
 
XVII. 
 
 MARKELOF'S guests were still sleeping when he re- 
 ceived by express a letter from his sister, Mme. Sipi- 
 agin. 
 
 Valentine spoke in her note of some insignificant matters, 
 begged him to send back to her a book which she had lent 
 him, and apropos of nothing, told him in the postscript an 
 amusing bit of news, which was that his old love, Mari- . 
 anne, had fallen violently in love with the new tutor, Nesh- 
 danof, and he with her ; and this was not a bit of gossip 
 which she was repeating, but an actual fact, for she had 
 seen with her own eyes, and heard with her own ears. 
 
 Markelof's face became as black as night — but he did 
 not speak a single word ; he gave the book to the messen- 
 ger, and meeting Neshdanof, who was coming down stairs, 
 he wished him good day as usual ; he even gave him the 
 packet of Kishakof's letters which he had promised him ; 
 but he did not stay with him, he went out to "superintend 
 the work." 
 
 Neshdanof went back to his chamber, and ran through 
 the letters. In them, the young propagandist spoke con- 
 stantly of himself, of his feverish activity : to use his own 
 expressions he had, during the last month, rolled over the 
 highways of eleven districts, visited nine towns, twenty- 
 nine villages, fifty-three hamlets, a farm, and eight factories ; 
 he had passed sixteen nights in barns, one in a stable, and 
 one even in a cow-barn (here he remarked in a parenthesis, 
 with a nota bene, that fleas never bit him) ; he had made his 
 way into the workmen's cabins, and into the barracks of the 
 railway navvies ; everywhere he had instructed and indoc- 
 trinated, everywhere he had distributed pamphlets and 
 collected information while on the wing ; sometimes writing 
 it down on the spot, and sometimes committing it to mem- 
 
Il6 VIHGIN SOIL. 
 
 ory by the most approved system of modern mnemonics , 
 he had written fourteen long letters, twenty-eight short 
 ones, eighteen notes (of which four were in pencil, one in 
 blood, one in soot and water) ; and the reason he found it 
 possible to do so many things was, that he understood how 
 to distribute his time systematically, according to the pre- 
 cepts of Quentin, Johnson, Sverlitsky, Carelius, and other 
 statisticians and publicists. 
 
 Then he began speaking of himself again, of how he 
 had completed Fourier's theory of "passional attraction ; " 
 he had been the first he said to find the true " Soil," and 
 " he would not pass from the earth and leave no trace ; " 
 he was even surprised that he, a young fellow of twenty- 
 two, should have already solved all the problems of life and 
 of science. He wound up by declaring that he would trans- 
 form Russia ; that he would shake it like a plum-tree ; that 
 he would turn it inside out like a glove. 
 
 "Dixi!" he added. This dixt often recurred in Kis- 
 liakof's letters, and always accompanied by an exclamation 
 point. 
 
 One of the letters contained a socialistic poem, addressed 
 to a young girl, beginning with these words : 
 
 " Love not me, but the idea ! " 
 
 Neshdanof was surprised, not so much at the conceit of 
 Mr. Kisliakof, as at Markelof's naive indulgence of him. 
 But having reflected he said to himself : 
 
 " Bah ! Kisliakof will be useful in his way ; down with 
 esthetics ! " 
 
 The three friends met again in the dining-room at break- 
 fast ; but the discussion of the night before was not re- 
 sumed ; no one felt like talking. But Solomine alone was 
 tranquil ; the silence of the two others revealed their secret 
 agitation. 
 
 After breakfast they started for the town ; and Marke- 
 lof's old servant, seated upon the steps, followed his master 
 with the sad and mournful look which was habitual to him. 
 
 Goloushkine, the merchant, whose acquaintance Nesh- 
 danof was to make, was the son of an Old Believer, who 
 had made a fortune by selling drugs. Goloushkine had not 
 increased the fortune left him by his father, for he was a high 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. ,17 
 
 liver, as they say, a Russian epicurean, and he had none of 
 the quahties necessary to commerce. 
 
 He was a man of about forty, rather stout, and very 
 ugly — his face pitted by small-pox, and with small pig's 
 eyes : he spoke with volubility, mixing up his words, and 
 rontinually jerking his arms and legs, with expressions of 
 forced laughter. On the whole he looked like a big spoiled 
 child, rather silly and vain withal. 
 
 He considered himself a man of culture because he 
 dressed in the German fashion, kept open house, and had 
 to do with rich people ; he went to the theater and formed 
 intrigues with the actresses, to whom he talked in a ridicu- 
 lous jargon which pretended to be French. 
 
 His ruling passion was desire of popularity; he would 
 have liked to have the name of Goloushkine resounding 
 through the whole universe, and that people should talk of 
 Kapiton Goloushkine as they talk of Suwarrow or Po- 
 temkin. This passion, which had overcome his innate 
 avarice, had, as he used to say with pride, thrown him into 
 the opposition, or " position," as he at first pronounced it, 
 until he was corrected. He had ended by becoming a 
 Nihilist ; he professed the most extreme opinions, ridiculed 
 his own sect, feasted on fast days, played cards, and drank 
 champagne like water. His opinions had never brought 
 him into trouble, because, he used to say, " all the authori- 
 ties have been bought by me for ready money, all the joints 
 are stopped up, all mouths closed, all ears sealed." 
 
 He was a widower, and childless ; his sister's sons pur- 
 sued him with a sort of servile terror ; but he treated them 
 like uneducated clodhoppers and barbarians, and hardly 
 permitted them to show themselves before him. 
 
 He lived in a handsome stone house, which was very ill- 
 kept ; certain rooms were furnished in the European fash- 
 ion, while others contained absolutely nothing but some lit- 
 tle chairs and a sofa covered with oilcloth. There were 
 pictures everywhere, real daubs, red landscapes, violet sea- 
 pieces, Moller's "Le Baiser," great naked women with red 
 knees and elbows. 
 
 Although Goloushkine had no family properly so-called, 
 his house was overrun with lackeys and parasites whom he 
 
I ,S VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 supported, not from generosity, but on account of the in- 
 satiable thirst for popularity which possessed him, and also 
 in order to have people whom he could order round and 
 play the great man to. 
 
 " My clients," he used to say with pride. He never read 
 a word, but he never forgot learned expressions. 
 
 The three young people found Goloushkine in his library. 
 He was wrapped in a big coat, with a cigar in his mouth, 
 pretending to read the paper. When he saw them, he 
 sprang up ; went first to the right, then to the left, blushed, 
 ordered that some luncheon be brought at once, asked a 
 question, burst out laughing about something else — and all 
 this at once ! 
 
 He knew two of the young men ; Neshdanof was the only 
 stranger. When he heard he was a student, Goloushkine 
 burst out laughing for the second time, squeezed his hand 
 again, and said : 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo ! a capital recruit ! Science is light ; 
 ignorance is darkness ! For my part, I never had a pen- 
 ny's worth of instruction in my life ; but I understand things 
 because I go straight to the core." 
 
 Neshdanof thought he saw that Goloushkine was embar- 
 rassed and timid. He was right. At the sight of every new 
 face, Goloushkine used to say to himself : 
 
 " Take care, Kapiton, don't fall with your nose in the 
 mire." 
 
 He soon recovered himself, and in his stammering, con- 
 fused, and hasty way, he began to talk about the mys- 
 terious Vassili Nicholai'vitch, of his character, of the need 
 of the pro-pa-gan-da (he knew this word very well, but he 
 always pronounced it slowly), of a new and very serious 
 convert whom he had discovered himself, he, Goloushkine ; 
 the moment, he went on, had nearly come ; all was ready 
 for the — for the stroke of the lancet (when he said this he 
 ' looked at Markelof, who did not move even his eyebrows); 
 then turning to Neshdanof he began to boast about him- 
 self, so that he could have given points to Kisliakof, the 
 great correspondent. 
 
 At that moment a servant brought in luncheon. Goloush- 
 kine coughed significantly, invited his guests to " make a 
 
VTRGIN soil. 
 
 iig 
 
 hole in it," and by way of example swallowed a glass of 
 peppered brandy. The others began to eat their luncheon. 
 Goloushkine crammed great hunps of pressed caviare into 
 his mouth, and drank in due proportion. 
 
 " Come, gentlemen," he said, " I want you to taste this 
 Macon." 
 
 Then, turning to Neshdanof, he asked him where he 
 came from, where he lived, if he was there for long ; and 
 when he heard that he lived with the Sipiagins, he cried : 
 
 " I know that gentleman, he's an empty-headed fellow." 
 
 And thereupon he fell upon all the proprietors of the 
 
 government of S , declaring that they lacked not only 
 
 all the qualities of citizens, but also the knowledge of their 
 own interests. 
 
 But, oddly enough, while he was talking in this energetic 
 way, a certain restlessness could be detected in his eyes, 
 which were turning in every direction. Neshdanof could 
 not make out very clearly what this man could be, nor 
 how he could be useful to them. Solomine, according to 
 his habit, remained silent, and Markelof looked so gloomy 
 that Neshdanof asked him at last what was the matter. 
 To which Markelof answered, " Nothing," in the tone one 
 uses to imply that one has really something to say, but 
 prefers not to say it. 
 
 Goloushkine soon began again his criticisms, then he sud- 
 denly turned to eulogizing the young generation. " What 
 intelligent fellows they are ! oh, what capital fellows ! " 
 
 Solomine interrupted him to ask of what young people 
 he was speaking, and where he had met them. 
 
 Goloushkine burst out laughing as was his custom, and 
 said : 
 
 " Oh, you'll see, you'll see ! " 
 
 Then he asked Solomine about his factory and its 
 lascally owner. Solomine answered with monosyllables. 
 Thereupon Goloushkine filled every one's glass with cham- 
 pagne, and bowing to Neshdanof, he said in a low voice : 
 
 " To the republic ! " And he drained his glass with one 
 diaft. 
 
 Neshdanof pretended to drink ; Solomine excused him- 
 self, saying he never drank wine in the morning ; Markelof 
 
120 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 angrily emptied his glass to the last drop. He was evi- 
 dently very impatient. " We are just taking our ease here," 
 he seemed to say, " and we don't take up the question ! " 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said at last, somewhat peevishly, rap- 
 ping on the table. 
 
 But just as he was about to speak there entered the 
 room a man with very smooth hair, who was rather sickly- 
 looking, and had a bottle-nose. He wore a nankeen 
 caftan, such as is commonly worn by shopkeepers, and 
 came forward cautiously, holding his arms out from his 
 body. This individual bowed to the company and whis- 
 pered a few words into Goloushkine's ear. 
 
 " At once, at once ! " was the hasty answer. " Gentle- 
 men, I must ask you to excuse me. Vania, my clerk, has 
 just reminded me of something that compels me to leave 
 you for a time; but I hope, gentlemen, that you will be good 
 enough to come and eat a mouthful with me at three o'clock; 
 we shall be much freer." 
 
 Solomine and Neshdanof did not know what answer to 
 make; but Markelof, with the same ill-humor on his face 
 and in his voice, answered at once : 
 
 " Certainly we will come ! otherwise, what a farce we 
 should be playing ! "^ 
 
 " Thank you, thank you ! " said Goloushkine, and he 
 added with a bow to Markelof, " Whatever happens, I'll 
 give a thousand rubles to the cause, you may be sure of 
 that." 
 
 He thrust out three times his right hand with the thumb 
 and little finger extended, as a proof of his sincerity. After 
 he had accompanied his guests to the door, he stopped on 
 the threshold, and said : 
 
 " I shall expect you at three o'clock." 
 
 " You may expect us," answered Markelof alone. 
 
 When they were all three in the street, Solomine said to 
 them, " Gentlemen, I'm going to take a hackney coach 
 and return to my factory. What can we do till dinner 
 time ? Pace the streets ? As for our host, he reminds me 
 of a goat from which you get neither wool nor milk." 
 
 " As for wool, there'll be plenty," growled Markelof tes- 
 tily. " Goloushkine has promised me some money. Unless 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 121 
 
 you want to be fastidious, we mustn't be too particular 
 under the circumstances." 
 
 " I'm not fastidious, you know very well," answered Sol- 
 omine quietly. "But I must ask why I should be there. 
 Nevertheless," he added, with a smiling glance at Nesh- 
 danof, " if it will give you any pleasure, I'll remain ; as the 
 proverb says, ' It is well to die in company.' " 
 
 Markelof raised his head. 
 
 " Suppose we should go meanwhile to the public garden. 
 [t's a delightful day ; we can look at the people." 
 
 " All right ; let's go." 
 
 They started off, Markelof and Solomine in front, and 
 Ncshdanof behind. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 NESHDANOF was in a strange state of mind. In only 
 two days he had received so many new impressions, 
 and seen so many new faces ! For the first time in his life he 
 had united his fate with that of a young girl, with whom, ap- 
 parently, he was in love ; he had taken the first steps in a mat- 
 ter to which apparently he had consecrated all his strength, 
 and in short — was he happy ? No ! 
 
 Did he hesitate ? Was he afraid ? Did he feel troubled ? 
 By no means. 
 
 Did he feel on the other hand that tension of his whole 
 being, that impetus which carries a man into the front ranks 
 of the combatants, when the fight is hottest ? No longer. 
 
 Did he, in short, believe in this undertaking ? Did he 
 believe in his love ? " Oh ! cursed dilettante that you 
 are ! skeptic ! " fell from his lips. Why this fatigue, this 
 reluctance to speak, except at moments when he forced 
 himself to shout, and excited himself ? What was this in- 
 ternal voice which he tried in vain to stifle by his shouts ? 
 And Marianne, this good and faithful friend, this pure 
 strong soul, this brave young girl, she loved him in spite 
 of all ! Ought he not to esteem himself happy to have 
 met her, to have won her friendship, her love ? And the 
 two men who were walking in front of him, Markelof and 
 this Solomine, whom he hardly knew, but for whom he felt 
 such profound sympathy, were they not very good repre- 
 sentatives of Russian life, and was not their acquaintance 
 another blessing ? Why this vague sense of unhappiness ? 
 Why this sadness ? " You're a dreamer and a hypochon- 
 driac," murmured his lips again. " What sort of a radical 
 are you ? Write your little verses, stuff yourself away in a 
 comer with your little thoughts and your little, miserable 
 impressions, bury yourself in all sorts of small psychologi- 
 
VrRGIN SOIL. 
 
 IZ3 
 
 cal subtleties, and above all, don't go and imagine that 
 your caprice, your sickly, nervous exasperation, has any- 
 thing in common with the manly indignation, the honest 
 wrath of an earnest man ! " 
 
 " O Hamlet, Prince of Denmark ! how to escape from 
 your shadow ! How avoid imitating you in everything, 
 even in the shameful pleasure one has in abusing oneself ! " 
 
 " Alexis ! my friend ! The Russian Hamlet ! " cried 
 suddenly like an echo of his thoughts a shrill and well- 
 known voice. " Can it be you ? " 
 
 Neshdanof raised his eyes and saw before him Pakline — 
 Pakline in the costume of a Watteau shepherd, a buff 
 jacket, no cravat, a straw hat, with sky-blue ribbon round 
 it, on the back of his head, and on his feet shiny shoes. 
 
 Pakline came limping up to Neshdanof and took his hand. 
 
 " In the first place," he said, " although we are in a pub- 
 lic garden, we must throw ourselves into each other's arms, 
 according to the old custom, and kiss each other thrice- 
 one ! two ! three ! Secondly, know that if I had not met 
 you to-day, you would have had the pleasure of seeing me 
 to-morrow as large as life, for I know the place where you 
 are staying, and I came to this town on purpose — but you 
 shall know all that later. Thirdly, make me acquainted 
 with your new friends. Tell me in two words who they 
 are, and them, who I am, after which nothing will be want- 
 ing to our felicity ! " 
 
 Neshdanof complied with his friend's request, introduced 
 him to Markelof and Solomine, and then told who each 
 of them was, where he lived, what he did, etc. 
 
 " Excellently done ! " cried Pakline. " And now per- 
 mit me to conduct you far from the crowd — although there 
 is none, by the way — to a solitary bench upon which I am 
 wont to install myself in my hours of reflection, and enjoy 
 the beauties of nature. The view from it is charming ; 
 you can see the governor's house, two black and white 
 striped sentry-boxes, three policemen, and not one dog ! 
 Don't be too much surprised, meanwhile, at the nonsense 
 with which I'm trying so fruitlessly to make you laugh. 
 My friends affirm that I represent Russian wit, which is 
 doubtless the reason why I limp ! " 
 
124 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Pakline conducted his friends to the " solitary bench," 
 and made them sit down, having first driven two beggars 
 off it. The young people " exchanged thoughts," a tire- 
 some occupation, be it said, especially just at first, and a 
 perfectly useless one. 
 
 " Wait ! " exclaimed Pakline, suddenly turning to Nesh- 
 danof ; " I must explain to you how I happen to be here ; — 
 you know that every summer I take my sister off somewhere 
 or other,, for change of air, and when I learned that you 
 were going to live in the neighborhood of this town, I re- 
 membered that there were two very queer people here, a 
 husband and wife, who are somewhat related to us through 
 my mother. My father was of the people " (Neshdanof 
 knew this detail, but Pakline mentioned it for the benefit 
 of the others) ; " my mother was of noble birth, and we had 
 a long standing invitation to make a visit to these relations 
 of ours. And lo ! we started off — and here we are ! And 
 really, you can't imagine how comfortably off we are here. 
 But what creatures they are, really original ! You ought to 
 know them. What are you doing here ? Where do you 
 dine ? And what have you come for ? " 
 
 " We dine to-day with a certain Goloushkine — a mer- 
 chant," replied Neshdanof. 
 
 " At what time ? " 
 
 " At three." 
 
 " And you came to — in order to — " 
 
 Pakline glanced at Solomine, who smiled at Markelof, 
 whose face darkened. 
 
 "But come, tell them, dear Alexis — make them some 
 masonic sign or other ; tell them in short that they needn't 
 be on their guard with me. Ain't I one of you ? " 
 
 " Goloushkine is also one of us," said Neshdanof. 
 
 " So ! so ! very good ! But it is not nearly three o'clock 
 yet. Come, let's go to my cousin's." 
 
 " Are you losing your senses ? Would you have us go 
 point blank — " 
 
 " Don't disturb yourself ! Leave everything to me. 
 Imagine an oasis. Neither politics nor literature nor any- 
 thing belonging to the present day ever penetrates there. 
 A little swell front house, such as is to be found nowhere 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. ,25 
 
 else ; the whole atmosphere of the place is ro( nro ; the 
 people themselves are rococo ; the very air which you 
 breathe is rococo ; everything you see is rococo ; Catherine 
 II., powder, hoops, the eighteenth century personified ! 
 As for the master and mistress of this house — picture to 
 yourself two little old people, very, very old ! husband 
 and wife ! of the same age, and unwrinkled ; plump, 
 round, neat, real love-birds ; and their 'kindness amounts 
 to folly, to saintliness — their kindness is unlimited ! You 
 will tell me that unUmited kindness is often joined to a 
 want of moral sense ; but I can't enter into those subtle- 
 ties. I only know one thing, that my little old couple are 
 the. very best of good people ! They have never had any 
 children — lucky mortals ! In the town, they are called the 
 blessed, or the fools, or the innocents, whichever you 
 prefer. They both wear the same costume : a striped 
 cloak, made of a firm material not found elsewhere. They 
 are astonishingly alike ; the only difiference between them 
 is that she wears a cap, and he a " kolpak," with ruffles 
 like those on the cap, but without a bow of ribbon. This 
 ribbon bow is the only thing which distinguishes them from 
 each other, the husband having no beard. He is called 
 Fomoushka,* and she Fimoushka. I assure you it would 
 be worth paying to see them. They are incredibly fond 
 of each other, they welcome any one who comes to see 
 them, , and play off all their graces for them ! Only one 
 thing is prohibited there, and that is smoking ; not that they 
 are raskolniks,f but they detest the odor of tobacco. In 
 their time you see there was scarcely any smoking. 
 Canaries were also unknown then, so they have none in 
 their house, and that's a mercy, don't you think so ? Wt II, 
 won't you come ? " 
 
 " But — I don't know — " began Neshdanof. 
 
 " Wait, I've not told you all yet. Their voices are so 
 much alike that if you shut your eyes it would be hard to 
 say which was speaking. There is a shade more expression 
 
 * Fomoushka, diminutive of Thomas, and Fimoushka, diminutive 
 of Euphemia. — Tr. 
 
 \ Old Believt'is, who have a hcrror of tobacco. 
 
126 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 in Fomouslika's voice ; that's all. You, gentlemen, who 
 are preparing yourselves for your great work, why, before 
 plunging into the roaring torrent, why won't you go and 
 take a dip first ? " 
 
 " In stagnant water ? " interrupted Markelof. 
 
 "And what of that? Stagnant water if you will, but 
 fresh and sweet. There are ponds of that sort on the 
 steppes whose water is not running, it is true, but which re- 
 main clear and limpid because there are springs of fresh 
 water at the bottom. Well, my little old couple have also 
 at the bottom of their hearts hidden springs which are very, 
 very pure. In short, if you would know how people used 
 to live a hundred or a hundred and fifty years ago, come 
 with me without further delay. For there will come a day 
 and an hour — necessarily the same day and hour for them 
 both — when my two love-birds will fall from their perch, 
 and all the past will die with them, and the little swell front 
 house will disappear, and in its place will grow all that 
 springs up wherever there is " human nature," as my grand- 
 mother says, nettles, burdock, thistles, wild sorrel, and 
 wormwood ; the street even will cease to exist, other men 
 will come, and you will see nothing like it again for all 
 time." 
 
 " Well ! " exclaimed Neshdanof, " why shouldn't we go 
 there now ? " 
 
 " I will gladly go," said Solomine ; " I've no business 
 there, but it would be curious and interesting ; and if Mr. 
 Pakline is really sure that our arrival will disturb no one, 
 why not ? " 
 
 " Do come," said Pakline ; " they will be absolutely en- 
 chanted to see you. There's no need of ceremony, since I 
 have told you what they are like. We'll make them sing 
 to us. And you, Mr. Markelof, won't you come too ? " 
 
 Markelof shrugged his shoulders with an ill-humored air. 
 
 " I can't stay here all alone. Come on, show us the 
 way." 
 
 The young people arose from their bench. 
 
 " What a somber personage you have there ! " whispered 
 Pakline to Neshdanof, pointing to Markelof. " He looks 
 to me like St. John the Baptist when he was living on 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 !27 
 
 locusts — nothing but locusts without honey ! The other 
 fellow," added he, nodding toward Solomine, " the other 
 one pleases me hugely — what a smile he has ! I've never 
 seen that smile except on people who are superior to others 
 without being conscious of it." 
 
 " Are there any such people ? " asked Neshdanof. 
 
 " They're scarce, but th'.re a o some," rephed Pakline. 
 
XIX. 
 
 F^OMOUSHKA and Fimoushka, that is to say, Foma 
 (Thomas) Lawrentievitch and Evfimie (Euphemia) 
 Paulovna Soubotchef, who both belonged by birth to the 
 peculfarly Russian /^^/fe twbksse, were almost the oldest in- 
 habitants of the town of S . 
 
 Married very young, they established themselves in the 
 old wooden mansion of their forefathers, situated on the 
 outskirts of the town, where they had lived from time im- 
 memorial ; they never went on journeys, and they had never 
 changed at all their habits or mode of life. Time seemed 
 to stand still for them ; no " novelty " ever penetrated into 
 their " oasis." 
 
 They were not at all rich, but several times a year their 
 peasants came, as they had done during their serfdom, to 
 bring them poultry and provisions ; on a certain day the 
 starost of their village came to present the Obrok * and a 
 couple of grouse, supposed to have been killed in their mas- 
 ters's forest, although, in reality, the forest had long ceased 
 to exist ; they invited the starost to take some tea in the 
 anteroom ; presented him with an astrachan cap, a pair of 
 doeskin gloves, and wished him a pleasant journey home. 
 
 Their house was full of dvorovie (domestic servants), ac- 
 cording to the ancient custom. The old waiter, Kallio- 
 pitch, dressed in a jacket with standing collar, made of 
 very thick cloth, and buttoned with small copper buttons, 
 announced, as he had always been accustomed to do, with 
 solemn drawling tones, that " the dinner is served," and 
 went to sleep behind his mistress's chair. He had charge of 
 the sideboard, and administered the different decanters of 
 " cardamon " or " citron." 
 
 * Obrck, annual tribute which the peasants pay their masters. — Tr, 
 
 128 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Mi:) 
 
 When he was asked if he had never heard of the freeing 
 of the serfs, he invariably rephed that there was a great 
 deal of stupid gossip in the world ; that there was freedom 
 among the Turks, but that as for him, thank God, he had 
 been spared that, so far. 
 
 There was a female dwarf in the establishment, Poufka 
 by name, kept to amuse her master and mistress. The aged 
 housekeeper, Vaxsilievna, came in at dinner-time, with a 
 dark-colored handkerchief twisted round her head, and in 
 a tremulous voice talked of the latest news : of Napoleon 
 First, of the war of 1812, of the Antichrist, of albinos ; some- 
 times in a despondent attitude, with her chin resting on the 
 palm of her hand, she would tell her dreams and interpret 
 them ; she would also relate what she had read in the 
 cards. 
 
 The Soubotchefs' very house was different from all the 
 other houses of the town ; it was built entirely of oak, with 
 windows exactly square, which were double, winter and sum- 
 mer alike. It was filled with all sorts of little rooms, closets, 
 corners, and cubby-holes, ballustraded flights of steps, little 
 shelves for beds, supported by tiny columns of turned wood, 
 dark closets, and corridors. 
 
 In front of the house there was an inclosure, behind it a 
 garden, and this garden was all full of barns, outhouses 
 for rubbish, coach-houses, cellars, and ice-houses, a regular 
 nest in short. These buildings were not very well fitted 
 up, some were even in ruins ; but they were left untouched, 
 because they were old. 
 
 The Soubotchefs had only two horses, both extremely old 
 and very rough-coated and sway-backed ; one was so old 
 that he was covered with patches of white hair, and was 
 called the Immovable. They were harnessed, once a month 
 at the most, to a strange vehicle, well known to the whole 
 town, which looked very like a globe with the front quarter 
 cut out ; it was lined with yellow stuff of foreign make, 
 covered with little tufts, the size of peas, which looked like 
 warts. The last piece of this stuff was probably woven at 
 Utrecht or Lyons, in the time of the Empress Elizabeth. 
 
 The coachman, worthy man, was also extraordinarily old, 
 ind saturated with an odor of greasy leather and tar ; his 
 
130 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 beard pjiew up to his eyes, and his eyebrows fell in little 
 cascades down to his beard. He was so slow in his move- 
 ments that it took him five good minutes to take a pinch of 
 snuff, two minutes to stick his whip into his belt, and more 
 than two hours to harness the Immovable. He was called 
 Pufishka withal.* 
 
 When the Soubotchefs were out driving and there was 
 the least ascent, they were seized with fright (it was just 
 the same way down hill) ; they grasped the straps with both 
 hands and recited aloud a sort of incantation, " May the 
 horses, the horses, have the strength of Samson ! May we, 
 we, be as light as feathers ! " 
 
 The whole town looked upon them as eccentric, almost 
 mad in fact. They themselves were well aware that they 
 did not follow the customs of to-day ; but that troubled 
 them very little. They lived absolutely according to the 
 fashion of the time when they were born, or when they 
 grew up, or when they were married. On one point only 
 they departed from the old customs : never, on any ac- 
 count, had they prosecuted or punished any one. When 
 one of their people was convicted of being a drunkard, or 
 a downright thief, they bore it long and patiently — as one 
 endures bad weather — before making up their minds to get 
 rid of him, to find him a place- with some one else. " Let 
 every one take their turn," they would say. " It is time 
 some one else should bear with him, now." 
 
 But this misfortune rarely befell them ; so rarely that, 
 when it did occur, it made an epoch in their lives. They 
 would say, for instance, " That was a long time ago ; that 
 was when we had that troublesome fellow Aldoshka ; " or, 
 again, " at the time when the fur cap with a fox's brush, 
 which had belonged to our grandfather, was stolen." At 
 the Soubotchefs' caps of that sort were still to be found. 
 
 There was still another trait characteristic of the man- 
 ners of former times, which was lacking in them : neither 
 Fomoushka or Fimoushka were very religious. Fomoushka 
 piqued himself on being a follower of Voltaire ; and Fi- 
 moushka was mortally afraid of priests, whom she thought 
 
 * Diminutive of Porphyvius. — TV. 
 
VIKCIN SOIL. 
 
 131 
 
 had the evil eye. " A priest has been to see me," she would 
 say. " He did not stay long, but the cream has turned sour." 
 
 They rarely went to church ; and only fasted as Cath- 
 olics do, who allow themselves milk, butter, and eggs. This 
 was known in the town, and their reputation was, of course, 
 riot much improved by it. But it was impossible to with- 
 stand their kindness ; and, in spite of the unsparing rail- 
 lery of which they were the objects, in spite of their being 
 called " innocents," they were respected by everybody. 
 
 Yes, they were respected, but were not visited, which did 
 not disturb them much, however. They were never tired of 
 each other, and therefore were constantly together, wishing 
 for no other society. 
 
 Neither Fomoushka or Fimoushka, had ever been ill, 
 and if either of them felt in the least indisposed, they both 
 took an infusion of linden leaves, or rubbed their backs 
 with warm oil, or poured melted fat upon the soles of their 
 feet, and the indisposition was promptly cured. 
 
 Their day's programme never varied ; they rose late, 
 took their morning chocolate in little cups, shaped like 
 mortars. " Tea," they would say, " was not the fashion in 
 our day." They sat opposite one another and conversed 
 (they were never at a loss for subjects), or read the 
 "Agreeable Pastime" the " Mirror of the World," '' The 
 Aonides" or turned the leaves of an old album bound in 
 red morocco, and edged with gilt, which, according to an 
 inscription on the fly-leaf, had formerly belonged to a cer- 
 tain Madame Barbe de Kabiline. When and how this album 
 had fallen into their hands, they themselves had forgotten. 
 
 This album contained some French poetry, and several 
 Russian poems or prose articles, of which the following 
 short reflection upon Cicero may give an idea ; in what 
 disposition of mind Cicero accepted the position of quaestor 
 he himself explains as follows : 
 
 " Having called upon the gods to bear witness to the purity of liis 
 sentiments in all the positions with which he had been honored, so 
 far, he considered himself bound by the most sacred bonds to fill 
 worthily the aforesaid positions of trust ; and in this intention he 
 would not only resist all temptation to unlawful pleasures^ but he 
 would even avoid with extreme care those amusements which seemed 
 almost indispensable." 
 
132 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Lower down on the page were these words : 
 
 " Written in Siberia, amid the pangs of cold and hunger." 
 
 There was also a very curious poem entitled Tircis, a, 
 which were to be found such verses as the following : 
 
 " The universe is steeped in calm, 
 The dew sparkles prettily, 
 It caresses and refreshes nature, 
 And gives it new life. 
 
 " Tircis alone, with soul oppressed, 
 Suffers self-inflicted torture. 
 When the lovely Annette is not with him 
 Nothing can cheer his melancholy." 
 
 - And some important verses written by a soldier on the 
 " i6th day of May, 1790 " ; 
 
 " I shall never forget thee, 
 Oh, thou charming spot ! 
 I shall forever remember 
 The days which have passed so agreeably. 
 The days which I have had the honor 
 Of spending with thy owners 
 In this most respectable circle. 
 With many matrons, and young ladies. 
 And many other interesting persons." 
 
 The last page of the album contained, besides poetry, 
 recipes of remedies for stomach ache, spasms, etc., and even 
 an excellent vennifuge. 
 
 The Soubotchefs dined at noon precisely, and only ate 
 old-fashioned dishes : buttermilk fritters, sour soup with 
 cucumbers, mincemeat with cream and garlic, buckwheat 
 porridge, fish pie, chicken au safran, mint with honey, 
 etc. After dinner they took a nap, never more than an 
 hour long, then waked up to sit opposite one another and 
 drink whortleberry water, or a sort of effervescent lemon- 
 ade, which generally all went off in foam, to their great 
 amusement, and to the great annoyance of Kalliopitch, 
 who had to wipe it off from everything, and grumbled long 
 against the housekeeper and the cook, who had invented 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. ,33 
 
 this drink. " What's it good for ? " he would say, " except 
 to spoil the furniture ? " 
 
 After this, the Soubotchefs would amuse themselves 
 with more reading, or with laughing at the dwarf Poufka, 
 or would sing together some old songs (their voices were 
 precisely alike, high, feeble, uncertain, and even somewhat 
 hoarse, especially after they had taken their nap, but not 
 disagreeable on the whole) ; sometimes they played 
 cards, but always at old-fashioned games, such as the crab 
 or the flag, or even Boston. 
 
 Then the samovar made its appearance ; they took tea 
 in the evening ; this was the only .concession they made 
 to the spirit of the age ; but they repeated every day that 
 it was a weakness, and that to the use of this Chinese herb 
 was in great measure due the physical deterioration of 
 the people. 
 
 Generally they refrained from blaming the present or 
 praising the past ; they had always lived in the same man- 
 ner from childhood upwards ; but so long as they were 
 not obliged to change, they were quite willing to con- 
 cede that other people might live differently, and evei; 
 better. 
 
 At eight o'clock Kalliopitch served the supper, with the 
 inevitable okroshka* and at nine the large feather beds 
 received into their soft embrace the plump little bodies of 
 Fomoushka and Fimoushka, and peaceful slumber soon 
 descended upon their eyelids. All noise died gradually 
 away in the little old house, the lamp burned before the 
 images, a vague odor of musk and of balm floated in the 
 air, the cricket sang, and the cheery innocent little couple 
 slept in peace. 
 
 Such were these mad people, or as Pakline called them, 
 these " love-birds," who had given shelter to his sister, and 
 to whose house he conducted his friends. 
 
 Pakline's sister was an intelligent girl and rather pretty, 
 — ^her eyes in particular were magnificent — but her unfor- 
 tunate deformity deprived her of all grace, all gayety, and 
 made her suspicious and almost ill-tempered. Moreover, 
 
 * A little flask containing some small beer. 
 
134 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 she liad a very singular first name : she was called Snari" 
 doulia ! Her brother tried .to rebaptize her Sophie, but she 
 obstinately preferred to keep her odd name, saying that a 
 person who was hunch-backed ought to be called Snan- 
 doulia. 
 
 She was a good musician, and played the piano quite 
 well. 
 
 " That's because of my spider fingers," she would say, not 
 without bitterness, " the fingers of a hunchback." 
 
 The four visitors arrived just as Fomoushka and 
 Fimoushka had taken their siesta, and were about to drink 
 their whortleberry water. 
 
 " Here we enter the eighteenth century ! " cried Pakline, 
 as they stepped over the threshold of the house. 
 
 And in fact the eighteenth century met their eyes in the 
 anteroom, in the shape of a little screen, on the blue 
 ground of which were pasted black silhouettes of ladies and 
 gentlemen with their hair dressed in the fashion of the last 
 century. 
 
 These silhouettes, introduced by Lavater, were very much 
 the rage in Russia about 1780. 
 
 The unexpected appearance of so many strangers — three 
 at once ! — made quite a commotion in this little establish- 
 ment, where visitors were such a rarity. Then might be 
 heard the coming and going of bare feet and of heavy boots, 
 faces peeped in and quickly vanished, a door slammed, 
 some one groaned, some one else burst out laughing, and a 
 scolding voice whispered : 
 
 " Go to the devil ! " 
 
 At last Kalliopitch appeared with his eternal jacket, and 
 holding open the door of the " salon," announced with so- 
 norous voice : 
 
 " Mr. Sila Simonitch and- some other gentlemen ! " The 
 master and mistress were much less disturbed than their 
 servants. The irruption of four tall young fellows into 
 their drawing-room, quite a large one, by the way, rather 
 surpiised them, it is true ; but Pakline at once reassured 
 them, and in his usual joking fashion presented the three 
 new-comers in succession as quiet peeple having no con- 
 nection with " the crown." 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 '35 
 
 Fomoushka and Fimoushka had a special dislike for 
 people belonging to " the crown," that is, for government 
 employees. 
 
 Snandoulia, whose brother had called her, soon made 
 her appearance ; she was much more agitated and em- 
 barrassed than the old Soubotchefs. They, with one voice 
 ftnd in the same words, begged their guests to be seated, 
 and asked them what they would have, tea, chocolate, or 
 perhaps soda-water and sweetmeats ? But learning that 
 their visitors wished nothing, having just breakfasted 
 at the house of a merchant named Goloushkine, with whom 
 they were to dine, they no longer insisted, but crossing 
 thefr little arms on their little chests in precisely the same 
 way, they began to talk and to fulfill their duty as hosts. 
 
 The conversation languished somewhat at first, but it 
 soon became more animated. Pakline greatly amused the 
 two old people with a well-known anecdote of Gogol, 
 about a general who easily made his way into a church 
 crowded full of people, because he was a general ; and of a 
 pie so powerful that it found its way into a stomach stuffed 
 as full as the church ! 
 
 This story made them laugh till they cried. Their 
 laugh was in keeping with all the rest of them, shrill, 
 squeaky, jerky, and ending in a cough with red, warm 
 faces. 
 
 Pakline had noticed that people like the Soubotchefs are 
 strongly and almost convulsively affected by quotations 
 from Gogol ; but as his intention was less to entertain the 
 two old people themselves than to show them off to his 
 companions, he changed his method of attack, and man- 
 aged so well that in a very short time the couple took 
 courage and entered fairly into the spirit of the thing. 
 
 Fomoushka took from his pocket and showed to his 
 visitors his favorite snuff-box, on which could be counted 
 thirty-six human figures in different attitudes ; all these 
 figures had been long ago effaced by rubbing, but Fo- 
 moushka saw them still ; he saw them ; he could count 
 them one after another and point them out. 
 
 "See," he said, "there's somebody looking out of a 
 window. Do you see ? He's sticking out his head." 
 
136 VIRGIN son.. 
 
 A ad the place to which he pointed with the end of his 
 little crooked forefinger was as smooth as all the rest of 
 the cover. 
 
 Then he called his guest's attention to an oil' painting 
 hanging above his head on the wall behind him, which rep- 
 resented a profile view of a huntsman, on a light bay horse, 
 galloping across a snowy plain. The huntsman wore a tall 
 white sheepskin cap with a blue streamer, a camel's hair 
 tunic, bordered with velvet and gathered in at the waist by 
 a belt made of gilt-metal plates ; an embroidered silk glove 
 was thrust through his belt, and a poignard, with inlaid sil- 
 ver handle, hung at one side. The huntsman, who looked 
 young and plump, held in one hand an enormous horn, 
 decorated with gold tassels ; in the other he held the reins 
 and a whip ; the horse's four feet were all in the air at 
 once, and the artist had carefully painted the four horse- 
 shoes, not forgetting the nails. 
 
 " Observe," said Fomoushka, pointing out with the same 
 dimpled finger four semicircular marks in the white 
 ground behind the horse's feet ; " observe the foot-marks 
 in the snow ! He has forgotten nothing ! " 
 
 Why there were only four of these marks, and why there 
 were no others behind them, was a point which Fomoush- 
 ka passed over in silence. 
 
 " That huntsman — is myself ! " added he after a mo- 
 ment's hesitation, with a modestly complacent smile. 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Neshdanof, " you have been a 
 hunter ? " 
 
 " Yes — but not for a long time. Once while in full 
 gallop, I was thrown over my horse's head, and was wounded 
 on the kourpei. So that Fimoushka had a terrible frighi,. 
 and forbade my hunting, so that was the end of it." 
 
 " Where did you say you hurt yourself ? " asked Nesh- 
 danof. 
 
 " On the kourpei" repeated Fimoushka in low tones. 
 
 The visitors looked at each other without saying anything. 
 They did not at all know what this word meant. ■ Markelof 
 indeed knew that the plume on a cossack cap, or tcherkesse, 
 is called kourpei, but how could Fomoushka have wounded 
 himself on that plume ? And no one had the courage to 
 ask him for an explanation. 
 
VIKGIX SOIL. 
 
 '37 
 
 "Oh ! 'low you are showing off ! " suddenly exclaimed 
 Fimouska. " It's my turn now ! " 
 
 She opened a little " bonheur duj'our,'' for so was called 
 a sort of antique secretary, whose rounded cover when 
 raised slipped back into a groove — and took from it a 
 water-color miniature in an oval bronze frame ; this minia- 
 ture represented a child four years old, entirely naked, 
 with a quiver slung crosswise over its shoulders by a blue 
 ribbon ; it held in its hand an arrow, the point of which 
 it was feeling with its fingers. The child's hair was very 
 curly, and it smiled with a slight squint. 
 
 Fimoushka showed the water- color to the young people. 
 
 " This is I ! " said she. 
 
 " You ? " 
 
 " Yes, I — when I was little. There was a French painter, 
 an excellent artist, who used to visit my parents ; he made 
 this portrait of me for a birthday gift to my late father. 
 Oh, what a pleasant man that Frenchman was ! He came 
 to see us several times after that. When he came into a 
 room, he would draw back his foot with a gliding motion, 
 then he would shake it a minute in the air, and kiss your 
 hand ! And when he took leave he would kiss his own 
 hand, upon my word ! and he would bow to right and to 
 left, before and behind ! That Frenchman was a very 
 charming man." 
 
 They all praised the picture, and Pakline even declared 
 that it was still a striking likeness. 
 
 In this connection Fomoushka spoke of the French of 
 to-day, and said that they must have become very wicked. 
 
 " Why so, Foma Lawrentievitch ? " some one asked him. 
 
 " Why ? Just see what names they have ! " 
 
 " For instance ? " 
 
 " For instance : Nojang-Sang-Lorrang {Nogent-Saint- 
 l aurent) ; that's a regular bandit's name ! " 
 
 Fomoushka also asked the name of the present sovereign 
 of France. They told him " Napoleon." 
 
 That appeared to surprise and sadden him. 
 
 " What ! As old a man as that ? " he began. But he in- 
 terrupted himself and looked about with an anxious air. 
 
 He knew very little French, only having read Voltaire 
 
138 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 in translation (he had in a favorite little box under his pil- 
 low a manuscript translation of "Candide "), but he cccasion- 
 ally let fall a phrase such as " fausse parquet" (in the 
 sense of "that is suspicious" or " questionable "), an ex- 
 pression for which he was much ridiculed, until one day 
 ■A, very learned Frenchman explained that it was an old 
 parliamentary term much used in France before 1789. 
 
 Taking advantage of the conversation turning upon 
 France and the French, Fimoushka decided to clear up a 
 doubtful point which had been much in her mind of late. 
 She first thought of asking Markelof, but he looked at hei 
 in such a grave way ! Solomine was less alarming — " but 
 no! " she said to herself, " he looks like a common man, it's 
 not likely that he knows French ! " She addressed Nesh- 
 danof : 
 
 " I would like to ask you — " she began, " — excuse me, 
 but my cousin here, Sila Simonitch, is always making fun 
 of m^ poor old woman that I am, because of my ignor- 
 ance — " 
 
 "Ask, I beg of you." 
 
 " This is what it is : if a person wishes to employ the 
 French ' dialect ' to ask what something is, ought they to 
 say, ' Quece—quece — que — dla ?' " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And could you also say, ' Quece — que — cel^ I ' " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Or merely, 'Que dla ? ' " 
 
 " Yes, indeed." 
 
 " And all mean the same thing ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 I'imoushka reflected a moment, and then made a gesture 
 of resignation. 
 
 " Well, Sila," she said at length, " I was wrong and you 
 were right. But certainly the French are a singular people." 
 . Pakline then begged the two old people to sing a little 
 romance. They both began to laugh and were surprised 
 that he should have thought of such a thing ; but they were 
 soon persuaded to do so on condition that Snandoulia 
 should go to the clavichord and play an accompaniment, 
 She already knew what. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 139 
 
 There was a little old clavichord in one corner of the 
 room which the guests had not noticed. Snandoulia seated 
 herself before it, and struck a few chords. This clavichord 
 gave forth such poor, thin, weak, tinkling sounds, Nesh- 
 (lanof had never heard anything like it before in his life ; 
 but they soon struck up their little romance. 
 
 " Is it to find sorrow ? " 
 
 began Fornoushka : 
 
 " Sorrow in love, 
 
 Tliat we have received from li.e gods 
 A heart capable of loving? " 
 
 Fimoushka continued : 
 
 " Exists there anywhere on the earth 
 The feeling of love 
 Without sorrow, without suffering?" 
 
 Fornoushka replied : 
 
 " Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere !" 
 
 and Fimoushka repeated • 
 
 " Nowhere Dowhere, nowhere ! " 
 
 Then both together : 
 
 " Love abides with suffering 
 Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere ! " 
 
 and Fornoushka repeated as a solo : 
 
 "Everywhere, eveiywhere, everywhere !" 
 
 " Bravi ! " replied Pakline ; " let us have another verse ! " 
 
 " Very well," replied Fomoushka ; " but stop a mintite ; 
 Snandoulia Sainsonovna, what became of the trill ? After 
 my reply there ought to be a trill." 
 
 "Very well," answered Snandoulia, "I'll make a trill 
 for you." 
 
 Fomoushka began : 
 
 " Is there any one in the universe. 
 
 Who has loved without suffering tortureF 
 
 Who has ever loved 
 
 Without weeping and groauin?"' 
 
140 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 and Fimoushka : 
 
 " If the heart must be overwhelmed by sorrow, 
 Ai a boat by the ocean waves, 
 Why was it given to us 
 To suffer, suffer, suffer ? " 
 
 cried Fomoushka ; then he stopped to give Snandoulia the 
 time to make her trill. 4fter which Fimoushka took it up 
 again : 
 
 " To suffer, suffer, suffer ! " 
 
 and both in unison : 
 
 " Ye gods, take back my heart, 
 I want it no more, more, more ! " 
 
 and the couplet vs^as completed by another trill. 
 
 " Bravi ! bravi ! " cried all present — except Markelof — 
 clapping their hands. 
 
 While the applause gradually died away, Neshdanof 
 asked himself : 
 
 " Is it possible that these people don't understand that 
 they are playing the part of buffoons, or something very 
 like it ? Probably they do not, or perhaps they feel it and 
 say to themselves, ' What difference does it make ? we do 
 no one any harm, and we entertain our guests ! ' And in 
 fact they are right after all, perfectly right." 
 
 Under the influence of this thought he at once began to 
 pay them warm compliments, in answer to which they 
 bowed low but without rising from their arm-chairs. 
 
 At this moment the door of a neighboring room — a 
 sleeping chamber or servants' room whence for some min- 
 utes past had issued sounds of whispering — opened quickly 
 •ind admitted the dwarf Poufka, accompanied by the old 
 housekeeper Vassilievna. The dwarf began to squawk and 
 make grimaces, while the old servant sometimes stopped 
 her, and sometimes inspired her to fresh efforts. 
 
 Markelof, who for a long time had given signs of im- 
 patience (Solomine confined himself to smiling rather 
 more than usual), turned suddenly upon Fomoushka. 
 
 " I should never have imagined," he began, " that you, 
 with your cultivated mind, and your admiration of Vol- 
 
VJRGIN SOIL. 141 
 
 taire, of which I have been told, could divert yourself with 
 a thing which should inspire pity, in a word with a de- 
 formity ! " 
 
 Then he remembered that Pakline's sister was deformed, 
 and stopped speaking. Fomoushka blushed like a child, 
 arranged his cap on his head, stammered, " What ? it is 
 mt I ! it is she herself." 
 
 But here Poufka charged down upon Markelof. 
 
 " Who told you to come and insult my master ? " she 
 sputtered " You're jealous because they've taken me in 
 and fed and cared for m;, poor unfortunate creature that 
 I am. You grudge people their good luck ! Where did 
 you come from, you black-faced good-for-naught, with 
 your beetle mustaches ? " 
 
 While saying this she imitated with her thick short 
 fingers Markelof's mustaches. Vassilievna burst out 
 laughing, stretching her toothless mouth from ear to ear, 
 and her laugh was echoed in the next room. 
 
 " I'm not criticising you, you know," continued Mark- 
 elof, still addressing Fomoushka ; " it is certainly a good 
 work to give shelter to the poor and needy. But let me tell 
 you that I think that to have all you want — to live in clover, 
 not plundering any ot\t, but at the same time not lifting 
 your finger to help your neighbor, is not being good ; for 
 my part, at least, to speak frankly, I would not give a pin 
 for such goodness ! " 
 
 Wheieupon Poufka set up a deafening howl. She had 
 not caught one word of Markelof's speech, but she under- 
 stood that this "black-faced" fellow was abusing her 
 master and mistress. The impudent creature ! 
 
 Vassilievna also muttered something with an angry look. 
 As for Fomoushka he crossed his arms on his chest and 
 turning to his wife said, almost in tears : 
 
 " Fomoushka, my love, do you hear what our guest has 
 just said ? You and I are sinners, wicked people, Pharisees, 
 we live in clover ! It is our duty to go out into the streets 
 broom in hand, and earn our own living ; oh ! oh ! oh ! " 
 
 Hearing these sad words, Poufka howled louder than 
 ever, and Fimoushka, with her eyes half shut and lips drawn 
 in, took a long breath, preparatory to a lamentable groan. 
 
142 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Heaven knows how the matter would have ended if Pak- 
 line had not interfered. 
 
 " What's all this ? " said he, waving his hand with a loud 
 laugh. " Aren't you ashamed ? Mr. Markelof intended a 
 lit*^le joke, but as he has a very serious face, his jest seemed 
 like sober earnest. And you were taken in by it ! But 
 it was not so at all ! My good little Euphemia Paulovna, 
 it will soon be time for us to go, and do you know what 
 you must do for us in the meantime ? You must tell our 
 fortunes — you tell them so well ! Come, Snandoulia, get 
 the cards." 
 
 Fimoushka cast a look at her husband, and seeing him 
 sitting as usual, having regained his customary calm, she 
 also was quieted. 
 
 " The cards, the cards,'' she said ; " but I'm afraid I 
 have forgotten how, my dear ! It's so long since I've had 
 the cards in ray hands ! " 
 
 And she took from Snandoulia a very old pack of cards, 
 an o)nbre pack. 
 
 " Whose fortune shall I tell ? " 
 
 " All our fortunes ! " cried Pakline, and added to him- 
 self : " What a dear little thing she is, you can twist her 
 round your finger ; it's delightful ! All our fortunes, granny, 
 all ! " he repeated aloud. " Tell us our destiny, character, 
 future, — everything L" 
 
 Fimoushka began to deal out the cards, but all of a sudden 
 she threw down the pack on the table. 
 
 " What's the use of cards ? I've no need of them to 
 know the character of each one of you ! And what the 
 character is, the destiny is. He " (and she pointed to Solo- 
 mine) " is constant and a man whom it i? refreshing to 
 meet ; he " (she threatened Markelof with her finger) " is a 
 dangerous, volcanic man." Poufka stuck out her tongue at 
 Markelof ; " as for you " (she looked at Pakline), " there's 
 no need for me to tell you what you are, you're a hare- 
 brained fellow. He — " she pointed to Neshdanof, and 
 then hesitated. 
 
 " What ? " he asked ; " speak, I beg of you : what sort oi 
 a man am I ? " 
 
 " What sort of man are you ! said Fimoushka slowly ■ 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. X43 
 
 " you're a man who is worthy of pity. That is what you 
 are." 
 
 Neshdanof winced. 
 
 " Worthy of pity ! Why so ? " 
 
 " Merely because you excite my pity, that's all." 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 " Because my eyes tell me so. Do you suppose I'm stu- 
 pid ? I'm as clever as you, in spite of your red hair. You 
 excite my compassion : that's your fortune." 
 
 All were silent and looked at one another without 
 speaking. 
 
 " Well, good-by, my friends ! " cried Pakline. " We 
 have been here a long time and I am afraid we have bored 
 you. These gentlemen must go now, and I must go too. 
 Good-by, and many thanks for your kind reception of us." 
 
 " Good-by, good-by, come to see us again and don't for- 
 get us," said Fomoushka and Fimoushka, with one voice. 
 
 Then Fomoushka intoned the words of the liturgy : 
 " Many, many, many years." 
 
 " Many, many," repeated Kalliopitch, in a low tone, 
 while opening the door for the young people. 
 
 And all four found themselves outside the little swell- 
 front house, while Poufka yelled out of the window at 
 them, " Idiots ! idiots ! " 
 
 Pakline laughed heartily, but his laugh had no echo ; and 
 even Markelof looked at his companions, one after the 
 other, as if he expected a word of reproach from them. 
 
 Solomine only smiled as usual. 
 
XX. 
 
 *' \'\7ELL," said Pakline, who was the first to break 
 V V the silence, " we have come out from the eigh- 
 teenth century : now let us go to the twentieth. Go- 
 loushkine is such an advanced man that it would be an 
 insult to put him in our own century, in the nineteenth." 
 
 " You know him then ? " .asked Neshdanof. 
 
 " The world is full of the sound of his name, and I said 
 'we ' because I mean to go with you to see him." 
 
 " What ? When you don't know him ? " 
 
 " How strange you are ! Did you know my love birds ?" 
 
 " But you introduced us." 
 
 " Well, you can introduce me ! There are no secrets 
 between you and me. As for Goloushkine, he is a man of 
 large views. He will be charmed to welcome a new face, 
 you will see that he will ! Besides, we are very informal 
 here at S — — ! " 
 
 " Yes," grumbled Markelof, " I see you are very in- 
 formal, indeed." 
 
 Pakline shook his head. 
 
 " You say that for my benefit — well, I've deserved youi 
 reproach. But believe me, my new comrade, it would be 
 better for you to drop awhile the gloomy ideas engendered 
 by your bilious temperament. And, above all — " 
 
 " Sir, my new comrade," interrupted Markelof roughly, 
 "allow me to tell you, in my turn, as a precautionary 
 measure, that I never had the least love of joking, and to- 
 day I care for it less than ever. As to my temperament, 
 you've hardly had time to know it, as we met to-day for 
 the first time." 
 
 " Well, well, don't get angry ! I'll believe you without 
 so much ceremony." 
 
 And turning to Solomine, he exclaimed : " You, whom 
 
 144 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 145 
 
 tlie penetrating Fimoushka pronounced to be a refreshing 
 man, and who really are somewhat sedative in your in- 
 fluence, say if I intended to be disagreeable to any one, or 
 to make inopportune jokes ; I simply proposed to accom- 
 pany you to Goloushkine's, and I'm a perfectly inoffensive 
 person. It's not my fault that Mr. Markelof has a sallow 
 complexion." 
 
 Solomine shrugged first one shoulder and then the other, 
 as was his wont when hesitating what to reply. 
 
 " Doubtless," he said at last, " you neither could nor 
 would wound any one, and why shouldn't you go with us 
 to Mr. Goloushkine's ? I am sure that we shall pass our 
 time there as agreeably and as profitably as we did at your 
 cousins." • 
 
 Pakline shook his finger at him. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! I see that you're maUcious, too ! But you're 
 going to Goloushkine's all the same ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! My day is lost already ! " 
 
 " Well, come then, ' forward march ! ' To the twenti- 
 eth century ! Neshdanof, you're the pioneer of progress, 
 show us the way ! " 
 
 " Very well ; march ! But don't make your jokes too 
 many times over, or we might think your supply was run- 
 ning short." 
 
 " Don't be afraid. I shall always have enough to be 
 more than a match for you and your kind," answered Pak- 
 line gayly, and he hastened on in front, with quicker steps, 
 or as he himself expressed it, with quicker limp. 
 
 " He's a very amusing fellow ! " said Solomine, who fol- 
 lowed him, arm in arm with Neshdanof. " If by chance, 
 which God forbid, they send us all to Siberia, we shall have 
 some one to amuse us." 
 
 Markelof walked silently along behind the others. 
 
 While all this was going on elsewhere, at Goloushkine's 
 they were making preparations for a very " chic " dinner. 
 They had prepared a very fat and very bad " oukha ; " * 
 divers " patisho " {pa/es chauds), and " fricassee " (Goloush- 
 kine, who, in spite of his old-fashioned religion, lived on the 
 
 * Oukha. A kind of fish soup. 
 10 
 
146 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 summit of European civilization, tolerated nothing but 
 French cookery ; he had taken his cook from a club, 
 whence he had been sent away for being too dirty) ; and 
 above all, they had put enough bottles of champagne to 
 cool. 
 
 The master of the house received his guests with grim- 
 aces, with awkward and hurried manners, and with the 
 forced laugh peculiar to him. He was enchanted at Pak- 
 line's coming, as the latter had predicted, and contented 
 himself with saying, " He's one of us, is he not ? " 
 
 Then he exclaimed, without waiting for a reply : 
 
 " But of course he is." 
 
 Then he told them that he had just come from that 
 ^' toqu^" of a governor, who was always bflthering him 
 about confounded benevolent institutions ! 
 
 In reality it would be hard to say which delighted Go- 
 loushkine most, the honor of being received by the governor 
 or the pleasure of speaking ill of that personage to young 
 people of the advanced party. Then he presented to 
 them the promised proselyte, who proved to be the same 
 sleek, consumptive-looking young man with a prominent 
 nose, who had come into the room that morning to whis- 
 per to Goloushkine, and who was Vassia, his clerk, in fact. 
 
 " He's not much of a talker," said Goloushkine, pointing 
 at him with all five fingers at once ; " but he is devoted to 
 the cause heart and soul." 
 
 And Vassia bowed, blushed, cast down his eyes, smiled, 
 and showed his teeth, all in such a way that it would be 
 hard to say whether he was a perfect fool or an accom- 
 plished knave. 
 
 " Come to table, gentlemen, come to fable ! " cried the 
 host, and they sat down to a table well furnished with 
 side-dishes. 
 
 Soon after the oukka, Goloushkine called for the cham- 
 pagne, which fell in great clots into the glasses like con- 
 gealed fat. 
 
 " To the success of our — our enterprise ! " exclaimed 
 Goloushkine, winking his eye and nodding his head in the 
 direction of the servant, as if to imply that they must be 
 prudent in the presence of a stranger. The proselyte Vas- 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 147 
 
 sia was persistently silent ; seated on the extreme edge of 
 his chair, he showed in his whole attitude an obsequious 
 servility which was little in harmony with the energetic 
 convictions which his master attributed to him, but he 
 drank desperately. The other guests talked ; that is to 
 say, the host and Pakline, especially Pakline. 
 
 Neshdanof felt a vague, dull sense of discomfort, and 
 Markelof was as indignant and angry as he had been at 
 the Soubotchefs', but in a different way ; Solomine occu- 
 pied himself by observing all that went on around him. 
 
 Pakline was as happy as a king ! his daring words greatly 
 pleased Goloushkine, who never suspected that this " little 
 cripple " kept whispering in the ear of Neshdanof, who sat 
 next him, the most cruel jokes at his, Goloushkine's, e.x- 
 pense. He took Pakline, and this was just what pleased 
 him, for a good-natured creature who could be patronized. 
 If he had sat next him he would have poked him in the 
 ribs ; he made friendly signs to him across the table, and 
 nodded at him. Unluckily he was separated from him by 
 Markelof, that " somber shadow," and by Solomine. But 
 at every word of Pakline's he doubled himself up witli 
 laughter ; he even laughed in anticipation every time Pak- 
 line opened his mouth, tapping himself on the stomach 
 and showing his ugly blue gums. 
 
 Pakline soon understood what was wanted of him, and 
 set himself to rail at everything (a very congenial occupa- 
 tion, by the way) and at everybody : conservatives, liberals, 
 bureaucrats, advocates, trustees, proprietors, members of the 
 Zemstvo,* St. Petersburg, Moscow, all went through the mill. 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes, yes ! " repeated Goloushkine. " That's 
 it, that's it ! There's our mayor, for instance, a first-class 
 jackass ! a regular blockhead ! You explain to him any- 
 thing you please, and he doesn't understand one word ! 
 Our governor is just as bad ! " 
 
 " Is your governor stupid ? " asked Pakline. 
 
 " I told you he was an ass ! " 
 
 " Did you ever notice whether he lisps, or speaks through 
 his nose ? " 
 
 * Provincial assemblies ; a sort of municipal council.— TV. 
 
148 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " Why ? " asked Goloushkine in some perplexity. 
 
 " Why, don't you know ? With us, in Russia, the great 
 civil dignitaries lisp, and generals speak through the nose ? 
 It's only the loftiest personages of the kingdom, who both 
 lisp and speak through their nose at the same time 
 
 Goloushkine laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. 
 
 " Yes — yes — " he stammered. " He speaks — through his 
 nose — he belongs to the military ! " 
 
 " Booby ! " said Pakline to himself. 
 
 Some minutes later, Goloushkine exclaimed, " With us, in 
 Russia, here, everything is rotten, everything." 
 
 Pakline was just then saying, in an undertone, to his 
 neighbor, Neshdanof, "Why does he move his arms, as if 
 his coat were tight in the armholes ? But," he added aloud, 
 with an insinuating air, " believe me, most worthy Kapiton 
 Andrei'tch, half measures are of no use with us." 
 
 "Half measures !'' roared Goloushkine, who had -sud- 
 denly stopped laughing and put on a most ferocious ex- 
 pression. " Everything must be torn up root and branch ! 
 Drink, Vassia ! you son of a sea cook ! " 
 
 " You see, I am drinking, Kapiton Andrei'tch ! " replied 
 the clerk, draining his glass down to the last drop. 
 
 Goloushkine also swallowed a glassful. 
 
 " How does he keep from bursting ? " whispered Pakline 
 to Neshdanof. 
 
 " Long habit," answered the latter. 
 
 But the clerk was not the only one to drink. Wine 
 loosened everybody's tongue, and Neshdanof, Markelof, 
 Solomine himself, gradually joined in the conversation. 
 Neshdanof, with a sort of disgust and scorn of himself, at 
 first, because he found it hard to sustain his part, until he 
 had succeeded in lashing himself into a sort of factitious 
 enthusiasm he began by saying, that " It was time to have 
 ione with vain words, and to act ! " 
 
 He spoke of the field of labor they h id found, and, a 
 moment after, without suspecting that he was contradicting 
 himself, he asked them if they could point to any serious or 
 real elements on which they could depend, saying, " That, 
 for his part, he did not see them. In society, no sympa- 
 thy ; among the people, no comprehension of the situation. 
 How will you get around that ? " 
 
VIRGIX SOIL. 
 
 I-I9 
 
 No one made any objections to what he said, not so 
 much that there were none to make, as that no one followed 
 out his idea. 
 
 Markelof then began to speak, and in his hollow, queru- 
 lous voice, spun out a lengthy discourse, made up of mo- 
 notonous phrases, some of them oft-repeated. 
 
 " You would think he was chopping cabbages," mur- 
 mured Pakline. 
 
 It would have been hard to unravel the real subject of 
 his discourse ; occasionally he uttered the word " artillery , 
 he was probably alluding to defects he had discovered in 
 its organization. Germans and aides-de-camp also came 
 in for their share of abuse. 
 
 Solomine too, took up the theme, and observed that 
 there were two ways of waiting : waiting with folded arms, 
 and waiting while taking all needful precautions. 
 
 " We don't want any half-way radicals," grumbled Mai 
 kelof. 
 
 " Up to the present time," replied Solomine, " they 
 have tried starting from the top ; we will try starting from 
 the bottom." 
 
 " Moderates may go to the devil ! " cried Goloushkine, 
 with a savage air. " We must finish it with one blow." 
 
 " In other words, we must jump out a window ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I'll jump out," howled Goloushkine. " I'll 
 jump out ! And Vassia shall jump out ! I will say to him, 
 ' Jump ! ' and'he will jump. Won't you, Vassia ? " 
 
 The clerk emptied his glass. 
 
 " Where you go, Kapiton Andreitch, we will follow you. 
 Is it for us to dispute your will ? " 
 
 " I should like to see you ! I would twist you till you 
 were as crooked as a ram's horn ! " 
 
 The discussion soon degenerated into what is called by 
 topers " building the tower of Babel." It was a tremendous 
 uproar. Just as outside, in the mild autumn air, the first 
 flakes of snow were whirling and skurrying to the ground, 
 within, in the heated atmosphere of Goloushkine's dining- 
 room, whirls of words struggled with words, pouring out 
 one over the other : progress, government, literature, the 
 question of taxes, the religious question, the woman ques- 
 
150 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 tion, the court question, classicism, realism, comm\misni, 
 nihilism — international, clerical, liberal, capital ; adminis- 
 tration, organization, association, and even crystallization ! 
 
 Golouslikine was delighted, transported ; this uproar 
 filled him with rapture, he could wish for nothing better, 
 he was in the seventh heaven ! He was triumphant. 
 " This is the sort of people we are ! " he seemed to say. 
 " Stand back, or I'll kill you ! Make way for Kapiton 
 Goloushkine ! " 
 
 The clerk Vassia was so far gone that he held an ani- 
 mated conversation with his plate ; then cried out furi- 
 ously : " What the devil is a progymnese ? " 
 
 Goloushkine suddenly straightened himself, and throwing 
 back his crimson countenance, on which an expression of 
 triumph and overbearing brutality was oddly mingled with 
 secret fear and even trepidation, he cried out with the full 
 strength of his lungs : 
 
 " I'll sacrifice another thousand, Vassia ! " 
 
 " There ! there ! don't agitate yourself ! " replied Vassia 
 in a low tone. 
 
 Pakline, pale and covered with perspiration (in the last 
 quarter of an hour he had made as many libations as the 
 clerk), sprang from his seat, and raising both hands above 
 his head, exclaimed, with a heavy accent on each sylla- 
 ble : 
 
 " ' Sacrifice ! ' ' Sacrifice ! ' Oh, what a profanation of a 
 sacred word ! Sacrifice ! What ! no one dare raise him- 
 self to thee; no one can fulfill the obligations thou imposest ; 
 no one here, at least ; and this blockhead, this idiot, this 
 vile money-bag, gives a shake to his ignoble purse, he 
 throws down a handful of rubles, he cries, ' Sacrifice ! ' 
 and expects to be thanked. Expects to be crowned with 
 laurels. The low rascal ! " 
 
 Probably Goloushkine did not hear or did not under- 
 stand ! perhaps he even considered the words of Pakline as 
 a joke, for he repeated again, " Yes ; a tJiousand rubles ! 
 On the word of Kapiton Goloushkine ! sure as gospel ! " 
 
 He rummaged in his pocket for a moment. 
 
 " There, there's the money ; take it, swallow it, and re- 
 member Kapiton ! " 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 151 
 
 When flushed with wine he spoke of himself in the third 
 person, as children do. 
 
 Markelof silently picked up the bank-notes spread out 
 on the wine-stained table-cloth. After which, as tliere 
 was no reason for their longer stay, and as moreover it was 
 growing late, they arose from the table, took their hats, and 
 departed. 
 
 When they got into the street they were all a little dizzy, 
 especially Pakline. 
 
 " Well, where shall we go now ? " he said, with some 
 difficulty. 
 
 " I don't know where you are going," replied Solomine, 
 " but I'm going home." 
 " To the factory ? " 
 " To the factory." 
 
 " At this time of night, and on foot ? " 
 " Why not ? There are neither thieves nor wolves in these 
 parts, and the walk will do me good. The night air is so 
 fresh." 
 
 " But it is four versts." 
 
 " Well, what if it were five ? Au revoir, gentlemen ! " 
 Solomine buttoned up his coat, pulled his cap down over 
 his eyes, lit a cigar, and set off at a good pace. 
 
 " And where are you going ? " Pakline asked Neshdanof. 
 " Home with him." 
 
 He pointed to Markelof, who was standing motionless, 
 his arms crossed on his chest. 
 
 " We have a carriage and horses.'' 
 " Ah ! very well. And I, my friend, 1 shall go to the 
 oasis, to Fomoushka and Fimoushka. Now, comrade, 
 would you like to hear my opinion ? That house and this 
 are both madhouses ; with this difference, that in the 
 eighteenth century house we approach more nearly to real 
 Russian life than in this of the twentieth century. Good 
 evening, gentlemen ; I'm drunk, don't mind me ! Just 
 listen to one thing more. There's not a better woman in 
 the world than my sister Snandoulia ! Ah, well, my sister 
 is deformed, and is named Snandoulia ! It's always so in 
 this world. Besides, that's a good name for her. Do you 
 know who St. Snandoulia was .' She was a charitable 
 
152 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 woman, who visited prisons, dressed the prisoners' wounds, 
 and took care of the sick. But good night, good night, 
 Neshdanof man, deserving to be pitied ! And you, officer, 
 ha, cub, good night ! " 
 
 He started toward the oasis. Markelof and Neshdanof 
 directed their steps toward the inn where they had left the 
 larantass, had it harnessed, and half an hour later were 
 rolling along the highway. 
 
XXI. 
 
 THE sky was covered with low-hanging clouds ; it was 
 not quite dark, and the ruts shone dimly in front of 
 the carriage ; but on both sides all was wrapped in mist, 
 and the outlines of the different objects melted into large, 
 shapeless patches. It was a dull, unsettled night ; the 
 wind blew in little, damp puffs, bringing the scent of rain 
 and of vast wheat fields. When the carriage had passed a 
 certain clump of oaks which served as a landmark, and they 
 were obliged to take the cross-road, the traveling became 
 still less comfortable, the narrow road at times entirely dis- 
 appearing ; the coachman drove more slowly. " If we 
 only don't get lost," said Neshdanof, who had till then re- 
 mained silent. 
 
 " Don't be afraid of that," replied Markelof. " Two 
 misfortunes never come in one day." 
 
 " And what was the first ? " 
 
 " The first ? Why, don't you consider the loss of a day 
 as something ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; that Goloushkine ! we ought not to have 
 dcunk so much. My head aches horribly." 
 
 " I was not thinking of Goloushkine. He at least gave 
 us some money, so that our visit was not quite fruitless." 
 
 " Oh ! Then you are complaining of Pakline's taking 
 us to see his inseparables, as he calls them." 
 
 " There was not much to regret in that or to be glad of. 
 I am not one of the kind who are amused by such trifles. 
 That was not the misfortune I meant." 
 
 " What was it then ? " 
 
 Markelof did not make any reply, and drew back into his 
 corner of the carriage, as if to hide himself. Neshdanof 
 could not distinguish his features ; his mustache, only, 
 showed like a black line across his face ; but ever since 
 
 153 
 
'5 + 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 the morning something had been noticeable in Markelof 
 which his companion shrank from investigating ; a sort of 
 gloomy, secret irritation. 
 
 " Listen, Serge Michaelovitch," he said to him after a 
 moment's silence. " Seriously, were you so very much 
 pleased with that Mr. Kisliakof's letters ? To me they 
 seemed sheer nonsense, if you will excuse my saying so." 
 
 Markelof suddenly sat up straight. 
 
 " In the first place," said he angrily, " I in no way sht,re 
 your opinion of those letters ; I consider them very re- 
 markable and conscientious. Moreover, Kisliakof works, 
 he takes pains, and above all, he has faith. He believes 
 in one work, he believes in re-vo-lu-tion ! And let me tell 
 you, Alexis Dimitritch, I observe that you, you are luke- 
 warm in regard to our work — you do not really believe in it." 
 
 " What makes you think that ? " asked Neshdanof slowly. 
 
 " What makes me think that ? Why, all you say — your 
 whole manner. Who was it that said at Goloushkine's 
 to-day that he did not see what elements there were that 
 could be depended upon ? You ! Who asked if we could 
 point out any such elements ? You again ! And when 
 your friend Pakline — that clown, that buffoon — rolled up 
 his eyes to heaven declaring that no one of us was capable 
 of making a sacrifice, who upheld him ? who nodded ap- 
 proval ? Wasn't it you ? Say and think of yourself what 
 you please, that is your affair ; for my part I know people 
 who have had the courage to thrust away from them all 
 that makes life beautiful, even the happiness of love itself, 
 in order to carry out their ideas, and to remain faithful to 
 thdr convictions. But you have naturally something quite 
 different in your head to-day ! " 
 
 " To-day ? Why particularly to-day ? " 
 
 " Oh, come ! no shamming, happy Don Juan, myrtle 
 crowned lover ! " cried Markelof, completely forgetting the 
 driver who could hear every word, although he did not 
 turn his head. 
 
 At that moment the driver, it is true, was more concerned 
 about the right road than about the quarrels of the gentle- 
 men in behind him ; he was trying with care, almost with 
 timidity, to calm the shaft-horse, Mio was obstinately toss- 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 '55 
 
 ing his head and rearing up on his hind legs ; the tarantass 
 slipped on a rocky slope which ought not to have been 
 there. 
 
 " I beg your pardon — I don't quite understand,'' said 
 Neshdanof. 
 
 Markelof burst into a forced and bitter laugh. 
 
 " You don't understand. Ha ! ha ! ha ! But I know a 1 
 about it, my dear sir. I know to whom you made your 
 declaration of love yesterday evening ; I know whom you 
 charmed by your imposing manner and your fine discourse ; 
 I know who admits you into her room after ten o'clock in 
 the evening." 
 
 " Master," said the coachman suddenly to Markelof, 
 " will you please take the reins for a moment ? I will get 
 down and see. I think we have come a little out of our 
 way. There is a sort of hole here." 
 
 In fact, the tarantass did lean very much to one side. 
 
 Markelof took the reins which the driver handed to him, 
 and continued, without lowering his voice : 
 
 " I do not blame you, Alexis Dimitritch. You profited 
 by the occasion. That was your right. I only say that I 
 am not surprised that you should cool off toward the com- 
 mon ' work.' I tell you again, you have something else in 
 your head, and I venture this remark on my own account : 
 Where is the man who could tell beforehand with any cer- 
 tainty what would please a young girl, or could guess what 
 she wishes ? " 
 
 " I understand you now," began Neshdanof. " I un- 
 derstand your bitterness. I know who has played the spy 
 upon us, and hastened to tell you." 
 
 But Markelof, without appearing to hear him, continued, 
 dwelling on each word as if he were chanting : 
 
 " It is not a question of merit, or of extraordinary quali- 
 ties — moral or physical — no ! It is merely the good luck, 
 the cursed good luck of those damned bastards ! " 
 
 Markelof pronounced the last words in a rapid, jerky 
 way, then suddenly broke off as if turned to stone. 
 
 Neshdanof in the darkness felt his face grow pale and a 
 cold shiver run over his cheeks. He made a violent effort 
 to keep from springing at Markelof's throat. 
 
[56 VIRG/.V SOIL. 
 
 He must have blood, blood, to wash out this insult ! 
 
 " I have found the road again ! " cried the coachman, 
 who now made his appearance again near the right fore- 
 wheel ; " I had made a little mistake, I took the turning to 
 the left. But there is no harm done now. We shall be 
 there in a minute ; it is only one verst to the house. Keep 
 your seats." 
 
 He climbed up to the board which served him for a seat, 
 took the reins from the hands of Markelof, and turned the 
 shaft horse into the right road. The tarantass, at first vio- 
 lently shaken two or three times, rolled along at last quickly 
 and smoothly on an even road. The shadows seemed to 
 separate and grow less heavy. A little hill appeared in 
 front of them ; a light shone, vanished, then another. A 
 dog barked. 
 
 " There are the first cabins," said the coachman. " Come, 
 my little cats ! Get up ! " 
 
 The lights became more and more numerous. 
 
 " After such an insult," said Neshdanof at length, " you 
 will easily understand, Mr. Markelof, that it will be impos- 
 sible for me to pass the night beneath your roof ; I am, 
 therefore, reluctantly obliged to beg you to lend me your 
 tarantass to return to the town ; to-morrow I shall find a 
 conveyance home, and you will receive a communication, 
 such as you doubtless expect." 
 
 Markelof waited a moment before answering. 
 
 " Neshdanof," he said suddenly with a firm voice, but 
 despairing accent, " Neshdanof, for heaven's sake, come into 
 my house, were it only that I may ask your pardon on my 
 knees ! Neshdanof, forget — forget my mad words ! Oh, 
 if any one could understand how wretched I am ! " 
 
 Markelof struck his chest such a blow with his fist that 
 it seemed to groan. 
 
 " Neshdanof, be generous ! Give me your hand. Do 
 not refuse to forgive me ! " 
 
 Neshdanof held out his hand, not without some hesi- 
 tation ; but he extended it. Markelof pressed it with such 
 force that Neshdanof came near crying out with the pain. 
 
 The tarantass stopped before the front steps of Marke- 
 lof's house. 
 
r/KG/N SOIL. 157 
 
 " Listen, Neshdanof," said Markelof to his companion, a 
 quarter of an hour later, in his dressing-room, " listen ! " 
 
 He said only " thou " to him, and this sudden " thou " 
 — addressed to the man in whom he had just found a suc- 
 cessful rival, the man to whom he had just offered a deadly 
 insult, whom he had wished to kill and tear in pieces — in 
 this " thou " there was, at the same time, an absolute re- 
 nunciation, a humble and sorrowful petition, and even a 
 sort of claim. And that Neshdanof recognized this claim 
 is proved by the fact that he also said " thou " to his com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Listen ! I told you a short time ago that I had re- 
 nounced the joys of love, that I had thrust them from me 
 in order to consecrate myself wholly to my convictions. 
 That was a lie, a vairi boast ! I have never been offered 
 anything of the sort, and I have never thrust it from me ! 
 I was born unlucky and unlucky I have always been. Per- 
 haps it was ordained so. I was not made for love. No 
 doubt my mission is elsewhere. Since you can combine 
 both things, loving, being loved in return, and at the same 
 time serving the work — - You are a lucky mortal ! I envy 
 you. But I — no, I cannot ! You are happy, you are 
 happy ! But I — I cannot — " 
 
 Markelof said all this in a low voice, sitting on a 
 chair with his head bent forward and his arms hanging 
 down. 
 
 Neshdanof was standing before him, in deep, dreamy at- 
 tention, and though Markelof congratulated him on being 
 happy, he did not feel at all so. 
 
 " In my youth a woman betrayed me," continued Mar- 
 kelof ; " she was an adorable young girl, but she deceived 
 me ; for whom ? For a German ! an aide-de-camp ! And 
 Marianne — " 
 
 He interrupted himself. This was the first time he had 
 spoken her name and it seemed to burn his lips. 
 
 " Marianne did not deceive me, she told me in so many 
 words that she did not love me. Why should she love me ? 
 She had given herself to you. Oh, well, what oi that ? 
 Was she not free ?" 
 
 " But? stop, stop ! " cried Neshdanof. " What are you say- 
 
158 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 ing ? She has given herself to me ? I do not know what 
 your sister may have written, but I swear to you — " 
 
 " I do not say that ! She has given herself to you morally, 
 she has given you her heart, her soul ! " interrupted Mar- 
 kelof, not without deriving secret comfort from Neshdanof's 
 exclamation. " And she has done well. As to my sister 
 she certainly did not mean to pain me, or rather she did not 
 care whether she pained me or not ; but one thing is cer- 
 tain, and that is- that she detests you, and Marianne too. 
 She did not lie. Besides, let her do what she likes ; I don't 
 care what she does ! " 
 
 "Yes," thought Neshdanof, "she detests us.'' 
 
 "All is for the best," resumed Markelof, without chang- 
 ing his position. " Now that the last ties are broken, noth- 
 ing can trouble me more ! You will tell me that Goloush- 
 kine is an idiot, that is possible. Kisliakof's letters are 
 ridiculous, that may be. But the important thing, what we 
 must perceive, is that, according to his letters, everything is 
 ready everywhere. You doubt that perhaps ? " 
 
 Neshdanof did not answer. 
 
 " You are perhaps right ; but if we wait till all is ready, 
 absolutely everything, we shall never begin. If we always 
 weigh in advance all the consequences of our actions we 
 can't fail to find some bad ones. For instance, when our 
 predecessors were making ready for the emancipation of 
 the serfs, could they foresee that one of .the results of this 
 emancipation would be the springing up of a class of usurers 
 who charge the peasants six rubles for a tchetver* of dam- 
 aged wheat, and who receive in exchange," Markelof bent 
 one finger first, " at least six rubles' worth of work ; sec- 
 ondly," Markelof bent another finger, " a whole tchetver 
 of good wheat, and besides," he bent another finger, " some- 
 thing more as interest ? "That is to say, they drain the last 
 drop of the peasant's blood. Could the emancipators 
 however foresee that ? And even if they had foreseen it, 
 would they not still have done right to free the peasants, 
 and not to consider all the results beforehand ? That is 
 why my resolution is taken." 
 
 * Tchetver. About five and a half bushels. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 •59 
 
 Neshdanol fixed upon Markelof an astonished and ques- 
 tioning gaze, but he turned away his eyes. His frowning 
 brow hid his eyes, he bit his Hps and mustache. 
 
 " Yes, my resolution is taken ! " he repeated, striking his 
 knee violently with his brown, hairy fist. " I am an obsti- 
 nate fellow. It is not for nothing that I am half a Little 
 Russian." 
 
 Then he rose and shuffling his feet along as if he had 
 not strength to lift them from the ground, he passed into 
 his bed-chamber; whence he returned in a moment, car- 
 rying in his hand a little portrait of Marianne, framed un- 
 der glass. 
 
 "Take this," he said, with a sad but calm voice. "It 
 was I who made it. I am a poor draftsman, but look, 
 I think it is like her. " The portrait, a profile, drawn in 
 pencil, was really very like her. " Take this, my friend, it 
 is my last will and testament ; with this portrait I give you, 
 not my rights, for I have none, but everything, every- 
 thing ! I give to you all, and she — my friend, she is a 
 good—" 
 
 Markelof stopped ; his breast heaved visibly. 
 
 " Take it, you are no longer angry with ine, are you ? 
 Well, take it then, I have no further need for anything of 
 the sort." 
 
 Neshdanof took the portrait, but a strange feeling op- 
 pressed him. He felt as if he had no right to accept such 
 a gift ; that if Markelof could read what was passing in his 
 heart, he would not, perhaps, give him this portrait. Nesh- 
 danof held in his hand the little bit of pasteboard, carefully 
 framed with a black frame with a gilded edge, and asked 
 himself what he should do with it. 
 
 " It is a man's whole life that I hold in my hand," he 
 thought. 
 
 He understood what a cruel sacrifice Markelof was 
 making at this moment ; but why, why particularly for 
 him ? Should he give the portrait back to Markelof ? No ; 
 that would have been a still more cruel injury — after all, 
 this face was dear to him, he loved this woman ! 
 
 Neshdanof then looked at Markelof, not without some 
 dread ; was he not watching him ? was he not trying to 
 
l6o VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 guess his thoughts ? But Markelof was gnawing his mus- 
 tache with still averted gaze. 
 
 The old servant came in with a candle in his hand. 
 
 Markelof started. 
 
 " It is time to go to sleep, my friend Alexis," cried he. 
 "Things look different by daylight. To-morrow you shall 
 have some horses and drive home again, so good-by ! " 
 
 " Good-by to you too, old fellow ! " he added suddenly 
 to the servant, slapping him on the shoulder. " Don't you 
 think unkindly of me either ! " 
 
 The old man was so surprised that he almost dropped 
 his candle, and the look which he fixed on his master had 
 in it something unlike, something more than his habitual 
 sadness. 
 
 Neshdanof withdrew to his chamber. He was not at all 
 happy. The wine which he had drunk still made his head 
 ache. There was a singing in his ears, and shadows passed 
 before his eyes even when he shut them. Goloushkine, 
 the clerk Vassia, Fomoushka, Fimoushka, whirled before 
 him ; the distant image of Marianne seemed afraid to ap- 
 proach, as if distrustful. All that he had himself said and 
 done seemed to him lying and deceit, useless, sickening 
 absurdity ; and what he ought to have done, the end toward 
 which one should tend, seemed hidden in some unknown, 
 inaccessible place, under a triple lock, buried in the depths 
 of the earth. And he felt an unceasing longing to get up to 
 go to Markelof, and say to him, " Take back your present, 
 take it back ! " 
 
 " Pugh ! what a disgusting thing life is!" he. cried at 
 last. 
 
 The next day he started early. Markelof was on the 
 front steps surrounded by peasants. Had he called them 
 or had they come of themselves ? Neshdanof could 
 not tell. Markelof bid him good-by in a dry, laconic 
 fashion. However, he seemed to have something of very 
 grave importance to say to the peasants. And the old 
 servant was there as usual with his eternal mournful look. 
 
 The tarantass passed quickly through the town, and 
 when it reached the country went at a good pace. The 
 horses were the same as the evening before ; but the driver 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. l6i 
 
 whether because Neshdanof lived in a handsome house or 
 for some other reason, counted on receiving a handsome 
 pourboire, and as every one knows, when the coachman has 
 had something good to drink or hopes to have something, 
 the horses go like the wind. 
 
 The day, although somewhat fresh, was a real June day . 
 white clouds were quickly sweeping across the blue sky ; 
 the strong, steady wind raised no dust on the road, which 
 had been well hardened by the rain of the night before ; 
 the rustling willows waved and shone, everything was stir- 
 ring and growing ; the cry of the quail on the distant hills 
 came to them, across the green ravines, in clear, liquid notes 
 which themselves seemed winged, as if they came by flying ; 
 the raven's glossy plumage shone in the sun, and upon 
 the line of the horizon there was something passing 
 which looked like great black insects. These were the 
 horses of the peasants, who were giving a second plowing 
 to their fallow land. 
 
 But Neshdanof passed by all this without seeing it ; he 
 did not even perceive when he had reached the Sipiagin's 
 estate, so absorbed was he in his thoughts. 
 
 Nevertheless he trembled when they came in sight of 
 the house, and he saw in the upper story the window of 
 Marianne's room. " Yes," he said to himself, with a pleasant 
 glow about his heart ; " he was right, she is a good girl 
 and I love her." 
 
 II 
 
XXII. 
 
 HE went quickly to change his clothes, then he came 
 down to give Kola his lesson. Sipiagin, whom he 
 met in the dining-room, gave him a coldly polite bow, 
 asked him with an air of indifference whether he had had a 
 pleasant visit, and went into his study. The statesman 
 had already decided in his ministerial mind that at the end 
 of the vacation he would pack this young tutor back to 
 Petersburg, for he was " really too red," and that mean- 
 while he would keep his eye on him. " I wasn't lucky 
 this time," he said to himself ; "but, after all, it might have 
 been worse." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin's feelings toward Neshdanof were much 
 more lively and energetic. She could not endure him ! 
 Hadn't the fellow insulted her ? 
 
 Marianne was right in thinking it was Mme. Sipiagin 
 who was eavesdropping that evening in the hall — yes, 
 that great lady was not above such devices. During the 
 two days' absence of the young man she had not had any 
 explanation with her " flighty " niece ; but she gave her 
 continually to understand that she knew everything, that 
 she was no less indignant than surprised, and that her sur- 
 prise would be greater, if it was not combined with some 
 contempt and pity. Indeed, her lip was curled with ill- 
 concealed contempt ; she lifted her eyebrows with a sort of 
 amused pity whenever she looked at Marianne or talked 
 with her ; her haughty eyes rested with indolent perplexity, 
 and a sort of wearied disgust, on this foolish girl, who, 
 after so many fancies and eccentricities, had at last kissed 
 in a dark room the first student she happened to meet. 
 
 Poor Marianne ! Her firm, proud lips had never yet 
 submitted to a kiss. 
 
 Valentine Michailovna, did not however, tell her hus- 
 band what she had found out ; she confined herself to ac- 
 companying the few words she addressed to Marianne in 
 
 162 
 
VIKGIX SOIL. 163 
 
 Sipiagin's presence with a meaning smile which had no 
 connection with what she was saying. 
 
 It even happened at odd moments that she was a little 
 sorry she had written to her brother. But, on the whole, 
 she preferred being sorry, and having written, to not being 
 sorry and not having written. 
 
 Neshdanof saw Marianne for only a moment, in the 
 dining-room, after breakfast. He found her grown pale 
 and wan ; she by no means looked her best that day, but 
 the quick glance she threw at him as he came in went 
 straight to his heart. 
 
 As for Mme. Sipiagin, she looked at him as if she were 
 saying to herself, " Bravo ! capital ! very well done ! " 
 And at the same time she tried to make out from his ex- 
 pression whether Markelof had shown him her letter. She 
 finally decided that he had. 
 
 Sipiagin, when he heard that Neshdanof had visited the 
 mill, of which Solomine was superintendent, began to ask 
 him about " that industrial establishment which was so in- 
 teresting from all points of view," but the young man's 
 answers soon showed him that he had not seen anything, 
 and he relapsed into majestic silence, as if he was vexed 
 with himself for expecting any serious information from so 
 immature a youth. 
 
 As they were leaving the dining-room, Marianne had 
 an opportunity to whisper to Neshdanof : 
 
 " Go and wait for me in the birch grove, at the end of 
 the garden ; I'll join thee as soon as I can." 
 
 " She, too, says ' thou,' " thought Neshdanof. " How sweet 
 and unexpected, pleasant and strange ! " Yet it would have 
 seemed impossible that she should not have done so. 
 
 He felt that this would have been a real unhappiness 
 to him. Was he in love with this young girl ? He did not at 
 all know, but he felt with his whole being that she had 
 become dear to him — and intimate — and necessary — neces- 
 sary, above all. 
 
 The grove where Marianne had told him to go was 
 composed of a hundred large old birch trees, principally 
 weeping birches. The wind was still blowing steadily and 
 strongly ; the long tufts of slender branches swayed and 
 waved like floating tresses of hair ; the distant clouds were 
 
1 64 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Still passing swiftly across the blue sky ; when one of them 
 passed over the sun everything became, not dark, but of 
 uniform tint. But the cloud would quickly pass, and all 
 around him at once brilliant patches of light would begin 
 to quiver tumultuously, meeting, separating, mingling to- 
 gether. The sound and movement remained as before, 
 but there was added an appearance of joy and of festivity. 
 It is with this same joyous violence that passion penetrates 
 into a darkened and troubled heart. And such a heart 
 Neshdanof carried in his breast. 
 
 He leaned standing against the trunk of a birch and waited. 
 He did not know just what he felt, nor did he wish to know ; 
 he-was at the same time more disturbed and yet more at 
 ease than when at Markelof's. He wished above all to 
 see her, to speak to her ; he became conscious of that tie 
 which suddenly unites two living beings. Neshdanof 
 thought of the rope which is thrown ashore as a steamer 
 approaches the wharf. Then it is drawn round a post, 
 and the boat stops. It has reached port ! God be 
 thanked ! 
 
 Suddenly he trembled. A woman's dress appeared at a 
 distance in the path. It was she. But was she walking 
 toward or away from him ? He could not tell which at 
 first, then he noticed that the patches of light and shadow 
 ran up her dress, she must be coming toward him, they 
 would have run down if she had been going away. Some 
 moments more and she was close to him, before him, with 
 her bright, friendly face, a caressing brilHancy in her eyes, 
 a light but gay smile playing about her lips. He seized the 
 hands she held out to him, his voice failed him, she also said 
 nothing. Her quick walk had put her out of breath, but 
 her look showed that she was glad that he was so rejoiced 
 to see her. 
 
 She first broke silence. 
 
 "Well," she said, "tell me quickly what has been de- 
 cided." 
 
 Neshdanof looked surprised. 
 
 " Decided ? we have decided nothing so soon as this." 
 
 " Oh ! you understand me well enough. Tell me what 
 you talked about. Whom did you see ? Did you make 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. ,6j 
 
 Solomine's acquaintance ? Tell me everything, every- 
 thing ! But wait, let us first come this way. I know a 
 place where we shall be less in sight." 
 
 She led him, and he followed her obediently across the 
 tall, dry, stiff grass. 
 
 She led him to a spot where a large birch tree lay, 
 thrown down by some storm. They sat down on its 
 trunk. 
 
 " Come, tell me ! " she repeated. 
 
 But she immediately added : 
 
 " Oh ! how glad I am to see you ! It seemed as if these 
 two days would never end. Do you know that I am certain 
 that Mme. Sipiagin overheard us ?" 
 
 " She wrote to Markelof about it," said Neshdanof. 
 
 " To him ? " 
 
 Marianne stopped speaking, and little by little her face 
 became red, not with embarrassment, but with another and 
 stronger emotion. 
 
 " The bad, mischief-making woman ! " she murmured 
 slowly ; " she had no right to do that. But bah ! what 
 difference does it make ? Come, tell me everything ! " 
 
 Neshdanof began his tale. She listened silently, as if 
 deeply interested, only interrupting him when he hurried or 
 passed over the details. The incidents were not equally 
 interesting to her, however ; Fomoushka and Fimoushka 
 made her laugh, but interested her little ; their way of life 
 was too far removed from her ideas. 
 
 " It is as if you were teUing me about Nebuchadnezzar," 
 she said, when he was telling her about them. 
 
 But what Markelof said, even what Goloushkine thought 
 (although §he at once understood what sort of a creature 
 he was), and above all what Solomine's opinions were, and 
 what kind of man he was, these were the things she wished 
 to know, and which interested her intensely. 
 
 " But when are you going to act ? " 
 
 When ? This was the question which was constantly 
 upon her lips and in her mind, while Neshdanof was talk- 
 ing. And as for him, he seemed to avoid everything which 
 could in any way answer this question. He finally, him- 
 self, perceived that just those details upon which he dwelt 
 
1 66 VIRGIN- SOIL. 
 
 the most, interested Marianne the least, and that he kept 
 returning to them in spite of himself. 
 
 His humorous descriptions bored Marianne ; his sad, un- 
 enthusiastic way of speaking pained her. She only wished 
 to hear about the " work," the " question." No discourse 
 upon this subject seemed tedious to her. Neshdanof was 
 reminded of the time, before he was a student, when he 
 passed a summer with some friends in the country ; he 
 used to tell stories to their children, and they also appreci- 
 ated neither descriptions nor purely personal impressions ; 
 they also demanded active deeds ! Marianne was not a 
 child, but she had the pure and simple impressions of one. 
 
 Neshdanof praised Markelof warmly and sincerely, and 
 spoke of Solomine with the greatest appreciation. In the 
 middle of his enthusiastic description, he asked himself on 
 what he based the high opinion he had formed of this man. 
 Solomine had not said anything especially remarkable, 
 sopae of his words were in fact directly opposed to Neshda- 
 nof's convictions.. 
 
 " He has a well-balanced character," he said to himself ; 
 " that's it ; he is exact, steady, fresh, as Fimoushka said ; 
 he is a man, a tranquil, solid force ; he knows what he 
 wants and has confidence in himself, and he awakens con- 
 fidence in others ; he is never disturbed ; equilibrium, 
 equilibrium ! that is the important thing, and that is just 
 what I lack." 
 
 Neshdanof interrupted himself and remained plunged in 
 his reflections. 
 
 Suddenly he felt the touch of a hand on his shoulder. 
 
 He raised his head. Marianne's eyes were fixed on him 
 with a tender solicitude. 
 
 " My friend, what is the matter ? " 
 
 He took the hand that lay on his shoulder and kissed for 
 the first time this little hand, that was at the same time 
 pretty and strong. Marianne laughed gayly, as if aston- 
 ished that it had occurred to him to pay her such a pretty 
 attention. Then in her turn she became pensive. 
 
 "Did Markelof show you Mme. Sipiagin's letter?" she 
 asked at length. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 167 
 
 " And — what did he say ? " 
 
 " He ? He is generosity, self-sacrifice itself. He — " 
 
 Neshdanof was going to speak to Marianne of the por- 
 trait, but he checked himself, and contented himself with 
 repeating, " He is generosity personified." 
 
 " Oh ! Yes, yes ! " 
 
 Marianne again became thoughtful, then suddenly turn- 
 ing toward Neshdanof, she said quickly : 
 
 " Well, then — what have you decided ? " 
 
 Neshdanof shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " But I told you there is nothing decided as yet ; we 
 must wait awhile." 
 
 " Wait awhile ? Wait for what ? " 
 
 "The latest instructions (I know well enough that I 
 lie," thought Neshdanof). 
 
 " From whom ? " 
 
 " From — you know — Vassili Nicholai'vitch. And then 
 we must also await Ostrodumof's return." 
 
 Marianne looked at Neshdanof with a questioning air. 
 
 " Tell me, did you ever see this Vassili Nicholai'vitch ? " 
 
 " I have seen him twice — for a moment." 
 
 " Well — is he a remarkable man ? " 
 
 " How can I tell you ? He is our chief, and directs 
 everything ; without discipline the work could not ad- 
 vance ; we must know how to obey. (All that is also noth- 
 ing but mere talk," thought Neshdanof once more.) 
 
 " How does he look ? " 
 
 " He is short, thick-set, and has a dark complexion ; he 
 has a harsh face, with prominent eyeballs — a Tartar face 
 — but with very lively eyes." 
 
 " How does he talk ? " 
 
 "He commands rather than talks." 
 
 " And why is he the chief ? " 
 
 " He is a man of strong will. He yields to none. He 
 would kill any one, if it were necessary. In short, they are 
 afraid of him." 
 
 " And what is Solomine like ? " asked Marianne, after a 
 moment. 
 
 " Solomine is not handsome either ; but he has an excel- 
 lent face, simple and loyal looking — one meets with such 
 
l68 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 heads among the divinity students — the good ones I mean, 
 of course." 
 
 Neshdanof gave a detailed description of Solomine. Ma- 
 rianne looked at Neshdanof for a long, long time. Then, 
 as if speaking to herself : 
 
 " You have a good face too. I think life spent with you 
 would be easy." 
 
 These words touched Neshdanof, who took her hand 
 again as if about to raise it to his lips. 
 
 "You are too polite," Marianne said smilingly. She 
 always smiled when her hand was kissed. " You don't 
 know," she went on, " that I have to apologize to you." 
 
 " For what ? " 
 
 " Why, while you were away, I went into your room, and 
 saw upon your table a little volume of poetry " — Neshdanof 
 trembled, for he remembered that he had in fact left the 
 little book on his table — ■" and I confess that I could not 
 overcome my curiosity, and I read it. They are your verses, 
 are they not ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and you know now, Marianne, what proves better 
 than anything else could, how much I am attached to you, 
 and how much I trust you. I am hardly angry with you 
 for this." 
 
 " Hardly ? Then you are, a little ? But now I want 
 you to call me by my name. I can never call you Nesh- 
 danof. I shall call you Alexis. And that little poem be- 
 ginning 
 
 ' Dear friend, when I am dying,' 
 
 is that yours, too ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes. But please don't speak of it again. Don't 
 torment me." 
 
 Marianne shook her head. 
 
 " That is a very sad poem. I hope you wrote it before 
 we met. But the verses are excellent, so far as I can judge. 
 I think you could become a writer. But I am sure that 
 you have something to do better and higher than that of a 
 mere writer. Writing was an excellent thing once, so long 
 as there was nothing else to be done." 
 
 Neshdanof glanced at her quickly. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 169 
 
 •' You mean — ? Yes, 'tis true. Better to fail in this, 
 than to succeed in that." 
 
 Marianne suddenly rose to her feet with warmth. 
 
 " Yes, my friend, you are right," she cried, and her face, 
 which was beautiful in its generous emotion, kindled with 
 enthusiasm. " You are -right. But perhaps we shall not 
 fail after all. We are young. You shall see how useful we 
 can be. Our life shall not have been spent in vain. We 
 shall join with the people. You know some trade, don't 
 you ? No ? Never mind. We shall find something to do. 
 We will offer to them, to our brothers, all that we can do. 
 If need be, I will cook, sew, wash. You shall see, you 
 shall see. And there will be no goodness in this, but hap- 
 piness, happiness ! " 
 
 Marianne grew silent, but her look, fixed on the distant 
 scene — not upon the one that spread before her, but upon 
 another far off in the future, invisible to all but her — her 
 look was burning. 
 
 Neshdanof bent over toward her, almost upon his knees. 
 
 " Oh, Marianne," he murmured, " I am not worthy of 
 you." 
 
 She started suddenly. 
 
 " I must go at once," she cried, " or else they will be 
 sending some one to look for us again. Though for that 
 matter I believe Mme. Sipiagin has given up busying her- 
 self about me. In her eyes, I am an abandoned crea- 
 ture." 
 
 Marianne, as she pronounced these words, had upon her 
 face such an expression of joy that Neshdanof, gazing into 
 the young girl's eyes, could not keep from smiling as he re- 
 peated, " An abandoned creature." 
 
 " But she is dreadfully offended," continued Marianne, 
 '■ because you're not at her feet. But that's of no impor- 
 tance ; listen. Of course I cannot remain here. We must 
 fly!" 
 
 " We— fly ? " 
 
 " Yes. You do not wish to remain here any longer, do 
 you ? We will go away together. We must travel together, 
 You will come with me ? " 
 
 " To the end of the world ! " cried Neshdanof, and his 
 
170 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 voice suddenly vibrated with emotion, a hearty gratitude 
 " To the end of the world ! " 
 
 At that moment, in fact, he would have gone with her^ 
 without looking behind, no matter where she led him. 
 
 Marianne knew this ; she gave a brief but happy sigh. 
 
 " Now, take my hand — only do not kiss it — and press it 
 firmly, like a comrade, a friend — this way." 
 
 They returned together to the house silent, calm, content. 
 The young grass touched their feet lightly. The budding 
 leaves rustled all around them. Flecks of shadow and of 
 sunshine played hide and seek upon their clothes, and both 
 smiled at this rapid and ever changing sport of the light, 
 at the merry gusts of wind, at the glittering freshness of 
 the foliage, and at their own youth — and at one another. 
 
XXIII. 
 
 THE dawn had already begun to break, when Solomine, 
 having easily walked his five versts after dining with 
 Goloushkine, knocked at the little door in the high wall 
 which surrounded the factory. 
 
 The night-watchman opened it for him at once, and, ac- 
 companied by three enormous watch-dogs, who wagged 
 their shaggy tails without ceasing, led him to his room with 
 marked respect. 
 
 " You have got back early, Mr. Solomine. We did not 
 expect you until morning." 
 
 " Bah ! it's pleasanter walking by night." 
 
 The relations that existed between Solomine and his 
 workmen were pleasant, although a little out of the ordinary 
 way. The workmen respected him as a superior, but 
 treated him as an equal, as one of themselves. In their 
 eyes he was a man who knew his business very well. 
 
 " When Vassili Fedotoff says anything," they would say 
 to one another, " it is sacred, because he is a famous 
 scholar, and he beats all the Agliichas " (English). 
 
 The workmen remembered that a great English manu- 
 facturer had come one day to visit the factory, and, 
 whether it was because Solomine spoke English, or out of 
 real respect for his knowledge, this Englishman patted Sol- 
 omine several times upon the shoulder, asked him laughing- 
 ly if he would like to come with him to Liverpool, and 
 then turning to the workmen, said in his broken Russian, 
 " She good man, oh, very good man ! " This made the 
 workmen laugh heartily, and they said, not without pride : 
 
 " Ah, our superintendent is hard to beat, and he is one 
 of us ! " 
 
 The next morning Solomine was awakened by his favor- 
 ite Paul, who, as he helped him dress, told him the news and 
 
 171 
 
172 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 asked after his budget. They then took a cup of tea to- 
 gether hurriedly, and Solomine, having drawn on his old 
 work jacket, went down to the factory, and his life began 
 anew to turn as regularly as the wheel of a machine. 
 
 But another interruption was in store for him. 
 
 Five days after his return, Solomine saw entering the 
 courtyard of the factory an elegant carriage drawn by 
 four superb horses, and immediately a lackey in gray 
 livery, introduced by Paul, handed him solemnly a sealed 
 letter, bearing the coat of arms of " His Excellency, Gen- 
 eral Sipiagin." 
 
 In this letter, all impregnated, not with perfume — that 
 would be too common — ^but with a peculiar English scent 
 IS marked as it was disagreeable — in this letter, written in 
 the third person, it is true, but with his own proud hand, 
 the noble lord of the domain of Arjanoie, apologizing 
 first for addressing a man to whom he was personally un- 
 known, but of whom he, Sipiagin, had heard the most flat- 
 tering praises, took the "liberty " of inviting to his house 
 Mr. Solomine, whose counsel might be of the greatest use 
 to him upon the subject of an important industrial enter- 
 prise ; and in the hope that Mr. Solomine would have the 
 goodness to accept his invitation, he had sent his carriage 
 for him. In case, however, that Mr. Solomine should find 
 it impossible to absent himself to-day, he begged him to 
 appoint some other day, at his convenience, and then he, 
 Sipiagin, would gladly place his Carriage at Mr. Solomine's 
 disposal. Then came the customary formula, followed by 
 his signature with an elegant flourish, quite worthy of a min- 
 ister, and it is scarcely necessary to add, absolutely unde- 
 cipherable to any but the initiated. 
 
 The letter ended with a postscript, this time in the first 
 person. 
 
 " I trust that you will not refuse to come to dinner with- 
 out ceremony, and in your morning dress." 
 
 The words " without ceremony " v/ere underlined. 
 
 Accompanying this letter, the gray-liveried lackey, not 
 without some hesitation, handed to Solomine an ordinary 
 note, not even sealed. This note, written by Neshdanof, 
 contained only these words : 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 173 
 
 ' Come, I beseech you. We need you very much here, 
 and you can render a great service — but not, I need 
 scarcely say, to Mr. Sipiagin." 
 
 After reading Sipiagin's letter, Solomine thought to him- 
 self : 
 
 " Well, I should hardly go any other way than without 
 ceremony. I never had a dress-coat in my life. But why 
 the deuce should I go poking over there ? I should only 
 lose my time." 
 
 But when he had opened Neshdanof 's note, he scratched 
 his neck, and walked to the window, unable to make up 
 his mind. 
 
 " What reply will you deign to send ? " asked the gray- 
 liveried lackey respectfully. 
 
 Solomine stood at the window a moment, then at last 
 tossing back his hair, and passing his hands over his fore- 
 head, he replied : 
 
 " I will go. Give me time to change my clothes." 
 
 The lackey went out with a dignified step. Solomine 
 called Paul, spoke with him, and ran again to the factory. 
 When he had put on a black coat with much too long a 
 tail, and which had been cut by a tailor's apprentice, and had 
 put upon his head a somewhat rusty tall hat, which gave 
 him a very stiff appearance, he got into the carriage ; then 
 suddenly remembering that he had not taken any gloves, 
 he called the omnipresent Paul, who ran to fetch him a 
 pair of buckskin gloves that had been recently washed, so 
 that every finger had swollen at the end, and looked like a 
 biscuit. 
 
 Solomine stuffed the gloves into his pocket, and bade 
 them drive on. Immediately the lackeys, with an energy 
 as unexpected as it was useless, leaped upon the box, the 
 well-trained coachman uttered a shrill cry to start the 
 horses, and the carriage moved away. 
 
 While Solomine was rolling on toward Sipiagin's abode, 
 that statesman was sitting in his parlor with a political 
 pamphlet, half cut, upon his knees, talking with his wife 
 about the young manufacturer. He had written to him, he 
 told his wife, for the purpose of persuading him to leave 
 the Moscow merchant's mill, and take charge of his own. 
 
174 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 which was going from bad to worse, and which ought to 
 be completely reorganized. 
 
 Sipiagin never imagined for a moment that the young 
 man might refuse to come, or even that he would put off 
 bis visit to another day, although in his letter he had left 
 him his choice. 
 
 " But ours is a paper mill, and he has charge of a cotton 
 mill," observed. Mme. Sipiagin. 
 
 " That makes no difference, my dear. There is machin- 
 ery there as here. And Solomine is a mechanician." 
 
 " But how do you know but what he's a specialist ? " 
 
 " My dear, in Russia there are no specialists. And be- 
 sides, I repeat, he is a mechanician." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin smiled. 
 
 " Be prudent, my dear. You have already come to 
 grief with young people. Take care that it does not hap- 
 pen again." 
 
 " You are alluding to Neshdanof ! After all I think I 
 have attained my purpose even there. As an assistant for 
 Kola he is perfect. And then, you know, non Ms in idem ! 
 Pardon my pedantry — I mean that the same thing never 
 happens twice." 
 
 " You think so ? For my part, I think in this world 
 everything is repeated, above all everything in the nature 
 of things, and especially among young people." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Sipiagin, throwing the 
 pamphlet upon the table. 
 
 " Open your eyes, and you will see ? " she replied. 
 
 " Hum ! " said Sipiagin ; " do you mean our little stu- 
 dent ? " 
 
 " Precisely, our student." 
 
 " Hum ! He has been fancying something new ? " tap- 
 ping his forehead with his fingers. 
 
 " Open your eves ! " 
 
 "Marianne? 'Eh?" 
 
 This second " Eh ? " was said in more of a nasal tone 
 than the first. 
 
 " Open your eyes, I tell you." 
 
 Sipiagin frowned. 
 
 " Very good. But we'll clear this matter up later. Now 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 »75 
 
 I wish to say a word to you. Very probably this Solomine 
 will be a little frightened — very naturally — he is unused to 
 it. We must be very gentle, so as not to scare him. I 
 don't say this on your account. You are a pearl, and 
 when you wish you can bewitch people with a glance. 
 J' en sais quelquechose, madanie. But I mean it regarding 
 the others — him, for instance." 
 
 He pointed with his finger to a gray hat of the latest 
 style, placed on a stand ; it belonged to Kallomeitsef, who 
 had arrived at Arjanoie that morning. 
 
 " He's very abrupt, you know. He absolutely despises 
 the people — a feeling I condemn absolutely. Besides, for 
 some time I have noticed that he seemed irritated, and in- 
 clined to abuse everything. Is it because his affairs over 
 there — " Sipiagin made a motion with his head — a vague 
 sort of sign, but his wife understood it — " are doing 
 badly ? Eh ? " 
 
 " Open your eyes, I tell you." 
 
 Sipiagin drew himself up. 
 
 " Eh ? " This " Eh ? " was spoken in a very different 
 tone — one much lower than before. " Ah, bah ! It may 
 happen that I shall open them a little too wide. They 
 had better take care." 
 
 " That's your affair. But now as to your new young 
 man. If he arrives to-day you may rest easy, every pre- 
 caution shall be taken." 
 
 It turned out that the precautions were . wholly unneces- 
 sary, Solomine was neither alarmed nor abashed. 
 
 When the servant announced him, Sipiagin arose at 
 once, and cried in a loud voice, so as to be heard in the 
 ante-chamber, " Show him in — of course show him in." 
 
 Then he walked toward the doo"r of the parlor, and 
 stopped near it. Solomine had scarcely crossed the 
 threshold when Sipiagin, whom he had nearly run against, 
 held out both his hands, and holding his. head first on one 
 side and then on the other, with an amiable smile, said as 
 if delighted, " Ah, how kind this is of you ! How can I 
 thank you ? " 
 
 And then he immediately led him to Mme. Sipiagin. 
 
 " This is my wife, " said he, placing his hand gently upon 
 
176 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Solornine's back, as if to push him toward his wife. " My 
 dear, let me present to you the leading machinist and 
 leading manufacturer of this district, Vassili" — he hesi- 
 tated — " Fedoceivitch Solomine." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin arose slightly, raised her beautiful eyelids 
 gracefully, smiled upon the young man with a simple air, 
 as if to an old acquaintance, then offered him her little 
 hand, the palm uppermost, the elbow pressed against her 
 body, her head bent slightly to one side, as if she were 
 asking for a little charity. 
 
 Solomine gave the husband and wife time to finish their 
 little ceremonies, shook the hands of both, and sat down 
 as soon as he was asked. 
 
 Sipiagin then inquired anxiously if he would not take 
 something. But the young man replied that he wanted 
 nothing, that he was in no way fatigued by his journey, 
 and that he was entirely at their disposal. 
 
 " Might I ask then if you are willing to visit the fac- 
 tory ? " asked Sipiagin with the air of one who feared being 
 indiscreet, and who scarcely dared hope for such a favor 
 from his guest. 
 
 " Immediately, if you would like," replied Solomine. 
 
 " Ah, how obliging you are ! Shall I have them harness 
 a droshki, or perhaps you would prefer going on foot ? " 
 
 " Your factory, I suppose, is not very far off ? " 
 
 " Half a verst, at the most." 
 
 " Why should we drive then ? " 
 
 " Very well. My hat and cane, quick. Come, my little 
 housekeeper, quick — my hat." 
 
 Sipiagin was far more uneasy than his guest. He re- 
 peated again, " Now, then, my hat," and he, a great digni- 
 tary, jumped about like a noisy school-boy. 
 
 While her husband was talking with Solomine, Mme. Sip- 
 iagin had been watching secretly but carefully the " new 
 young man." 
 
 He was sitting quietly in an arm-chair, with his two bare 
 hands placed upon his knees (he had evidently not put on 
 his gloves), and was examining tranquilly, but with curi- 
 osity, the furniture and the pictures. 
 
 " What does this mean ? " thought she. " He is a plebeian, 
 
VIRGIN Soil. 
 
 177 
 
 a true plebeian, and yet what unaffected manners he 
 has ! " 
 
 In fact, Solomine was very unaffected, not at all like 
 those who, while they force themselves to appear natural, 
 really desire that they should be noticed, but like a man 
 whose thoughts and feelings are very simple but very 
 powerful. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin wished to open a conversation, but to Ler 
 great surprise she could hardly find a thing to say. 
 
 " Can it be," she thought, " that I'm overawed by this 
 machinist ? " 
 
 " My husband," she began at last, " ought to be very 
 grateful to you for the precious time that you are sacrificing 
 for his sake." 
 
 " It is not very precious, madame," he replied, " and 
 then I am here for but a moment." 
 
 " The bear shows his claws," thought she in French. 
 
 At that moment her husband reappeared upon the sill 
 of the open door — a hat on his head, a stick in his hand. 
 Turning half around, he said with an indifferent air : 
 
 " Vassili Fedoceivitch, I am at your service." 
 
 Solomine arose, bowed to the lady, and followed Sipia- 
 gin. 
 
 " This way — follow me — this way," repeated Sipiagin, as 
 if they were in an untrodden forest, and Solomine needed 
 a guide. 
 
 " Look out now ; there are steps here, Vassili Fedocei- 
 vitch." 
 
 " When you call me by my first name," said Solomine 
 without hurrying, " remember that it is not Fedoceivitch, 
 but Fedotitch." 
 
 Sipiagin looked at him over his shoulder with a sort of 
 terror. 
 
 " Ah ! I ask your pardon, Vassili Fedotitch." 
 
 " Oh, it's of no consequence." 
 
 Just as they were going out of the house, Kallomeltsef 
 met them. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " he asked of Sipiagin, looking 
 askance at Solomine. To the factory ? Is this the in- 
 dividual in question .' " he added in French. 
 
173 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Sipiagin opened his eager eyes, and shook his head 
 slightly to insure prudence. 
 
 " Yes, to the factory. To show my sins and wicked 
 nesses to this machinist. Permit me to introduce to you 
 Mr. Kallomeitsef, a proprietor of our neighborhood, Mr 
 Solomine." 
 
 Kallomeitsef gave an almost imperceptible nod or two 
 of his head, without turning toward Solomine, or even 
 looking at him. Solomine, on the other hand, looked 
 steadfastly at Kallomeitsef, and a peculiar something passed 
 over his half-closed eyes. 
 
 " May I go with you ? " asked Kallomeitsef. " You 
 know that I like to be instructed." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 They went out from the courtyard into the road. They 
 had hardly gone twenty steps, when they saw the parish 
 priest, who, with cassock turned back, was returning to 
 the parsonage. Kallomeitsef left the group, hastened with 
 firm and rapid steps toward the priest, who was much sur- 
 prised and seemed a little embarrassed, asked his blessing, 
 pressed upon his red, moist hand a resounding kiss, and 
 turning toward Solomine, threw him a taunting glance. 
 Evidently he had some knowledge of the new-comer ; he 
 wished to give a lesson to this rustic, whom everybody 
 said was so learned. 
 
 " Is this a manifestation, my dear friend ? " said Sipiagin 
 from between his teeth. 
 
 Kallomeitsef turned up his nose. 
 
 " Yes, my dear friend, a manifestation that is very 
 necessary in these times." 
 
 When they arrived at the factory they were met by a 
 Little Russian with an immense beard and false teeth, who 
 had replaced the German attendant. This Little Russian 
 was there only provisionally. He seemed absolutely in- 
 competent. He did nothing but say all the time, " See 
 there ! " and " If it please God," and sigh perpetually. 
 
 The inspection of the factory began. Many of the 
 workmen knew Solomine by sight, and bowed to him. 
 He even spoke to one of them. 
 
 " Ah, good day, Gregory — you here ? " He was not long 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. ijg 
 
 in finding out that the business was badly managed. A 
 great deal of money had been spent, but without discretion. 
 The machines were of a bad make. Many of them 
 were useless and superfluous, while many very necessary 
 things were lacking. 
 
 Sipiagin looked at him constantly straight in the face to 
 ascertain his opinion, and questioned him timidly. He 
 asked him if he thought it was in good order. 
 
 "The order is all right," replied Solomine. " But does 
 it yield a revenue ? I doubt it." 
 
 Sipiagin and even Kallomei'tsef felt that the young man 
 was perfectly at home in the factory, that he was familial 
 with everything, even to the smallest detail. He placed 
 his hand upon a machine, as a horseman places his upon 
 the neck of his steed ; he touched a wheel with his fingers' 
 end, and the wheel stopped or began again to turn ; he 
 took from the vat, in the hollow of his hand, a little of the 
 pulp from which the paper was made, and immediately 
 the pulp betrayed its every defect. 
 
 He scarcely spoke ; he did not even look at the attend- 
 ant, the Little Russian. He left the factory without say- 
 ing a word. Sipiagin and Kallomeitsef walked behind 
 him. 
 
 Sipiagin allowed no one to accompany him. He even 
 stamped his feet, and ground his teeth. 
 
 "I see by your manner," he said at last to the young 
 man, " that you are not pleased with my establishment, and 
 I know very well myself that it is not in good condition, 
 that it is in a very bad state ; but tell me exactly — I be- 
 seech you, without ceremony — what are its principal de- 
 fects, and what ought to be done to correct them." 
 
 " Paper-making is not my trade," replied Solomine ; " all 
 that I can say is that industrial establishments are not 
 the things for gentlemen." 
 
 " You look upon such occupations as humiliating to gen- 
 tlemen ? " asked Kallomeitsef. 
 
 " Oh, no, not at all. What is there humil. nting in them ? 
 Still, even if there were, the nobility would not be fit foi 
 them." 
 
 " What ? How ? " 
 
i8o VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " I would simply say," continued Solomine quieily, 
 " that noblemen are not accustomed to that sort of occu- 
 pation. To succeed in it, it is necessary to have the true 
 commercial spirit, to look at everything from a new point 
 of view. You must have persistence and patience. No- 
 blemen seldom understand these conditions. Do we not 
 see this always and everywhere ? They build factories for 
 cloth, paper, cotton, and into whose hands do these finally 
 fall ? Into the hands of the merchants. It is too bad, 
 for merchants are nothing but leeches. But it can't be 
 helped." 
 
 "According to you, then," cried Kallomei'tsef, "we 
 noblemen are not capable of understanding questions of 
 finance ? " 
 
 " Oh, on the contrary — the nobility are masters in 
 finance — of a certain sort. For petitioning for and obtain- 
 ing grants for railways, for organizing banks, for obtaining 
 monopolies, and all that follows, no one surpasses the 
 nobility. It was to that that I alluded, when you took the 
 trouble to get angry. But I am speaking of the regular 
 business enterprises : opening taverns, retail shops, loaning 
 grain or money to the peasants on interest at one hundred 
 or five hundred per cent., as so many of our noble pro- 
 prietors are doing at this moment ; these, in my opinion, 
 are not financial operations in the true sense of the word." 
 
 Kallomei'tsef made no reply. He belonged to precisely 
 this new race of usurious proprietors — of whom Markelof 
 had spoken in his last interview with Neshdanof — and he 
 was the more inhuman in his demands, as he never dealt 
 directly with the peasants (to whom admittance to his per- 
 fumed study was of course forbidden), but communicated 
 with them only through the intervention of a clerk. 
 
 As he listened to the remarks which the young man let 
 fall from his lips slowly, and with apparent indifference, 
 he fumed inwardly, but for the time he kept silence, and 
 the play in the muscles of his cheeks, caused by the con- 
 vulsive pressure of his jaws, alone betrayed what was pass- 
 ing within. 
 
 " But allow me — allow me, Mr. Solomine," replied Sip- 
 iagin : " all that you have said was perfectly true in the 
 
VIRGIN- SOIL. i8i 
 
 past, when noblemen enjoyed entirely different rights, 
 when they found themselves in a different situation. But 
 now, after all the beneficent reforms which have been ac- 
 complished in our busy era, why cannot noblemen turn 
 their attention, their capacities, in short, to such enter- 
 prises ? Why should they not be capable of understand- 
 ing what a simple, and sometimes illiterate, merchant 
 understands ? They certainly do not lacjc intellectual 
 development, and one may even affirm, with almost abso- 
 lute certainty, that they are, to a certain point, the repre- 
 sentatives of civilization and of progress." 
 
 Sipiagin spoke very well. His eloquence might have 
 had a great success, no matter where, at St. Petersburg, in 
 the presence of the ministry, or even higher still, but it 
 produced not the slightest impression upon Solomine. 
 
 " Noblemen cannot manage this sort of thing," he re- 
 peated once more. 
 
 " But why not ? why not ? " almost shouted Kallome'it- 
 sef. 
 
 " Because the noblemen are the true employees, the 
 tchinovniks." 
 
 " The tchinovniks ?" 
 
 Kallomeitsef wore a caustic, malicious sneer. 
 
 " Will you not be likely to be called to account, Mr. 
 Solomine, for what you have said ? " 
 
 Solomine continued to smile. 
 
 " Why do you think that, Mr. Kolomentsof " (Kallomei't- 
 sef started at hearing his name thus " mutilated "). " Rest 
 assured that I am always ready to render my account." 
 
 " Then explain what you mean by that expression." 
 
 " This is what I mean. From my point of view, every 
 tchinovnik is, and always will be, a stranger, an intruder ; 
 and the noblemen, as a matter of fact, have become 
 strangers and intruders." 
 
 Kallomeitsef laughed in the heartiest manner. 
 
 " Pray excuse me, my dear sir, but I don't understand a 
 word of all this you are advancing." 
 
 " So much the worse for you. Try hard — and perhaps 
 you will understand." 
 
 " Sir ! " 
 
1 82 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " Gentlemen, gentlemen ! " Sipiagin again hastened to 
 say, seeming to seek for some one that he could not find, 
 " I beg of you — please, Kallome'itsef, I beg of you calm 
 yourself. Dinner must be ready. Follow me, I beg of 
 you, gentlemen." 
 
 Five minutes after, Kallomeitsef, entering like a bomb- 
 shell into Mme. Sipiagin's boudoir, cried out : 
 
 " Valentine Michaelovna ! If you only knew what your 
 husband has done ! One Nihilist he introduced into your 
 house, and "here he has brought another. And this one is 
 even worse than the first ♦ " 
 
 " Why so ? " 
 
 " Why ? He has been setting forth Heaven knows 
 what opinions ; and besides that — think of it ! — he spoke 
 for a whole hour with your husband, an'd never once ad- 
 dressed him as ' Your Excellency.' The vagabond ! " 
 
XXIV. 
 
 AFTER dinner, Sipiagin called his wife into his study. 
 He wanted to speak with her alone. 
 
 He confided to her the sad condition of the factory ; he 
 added that Solomine appeared to be an intelligent man, 
 though somewhat — talkative ! — and they must continue to 
 pay him a little attention. 
 
 " Ah, if we could only tempt him here, what a stroke of 
 business it would be," he repeated twice. 
 
 Sipiagin was much annoyed at Kallomei'tsef's presence. 
 
 " Devil take him ! he sees Nihilists everywhere, and he 
 thinks only how he shall exterminate them. I wish he 
 would exterminate them at home. He is not able to hold 
 his tongue." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin observed that she should ask nothing bet- 
 ter than to pay little attentions to the new visitor ; but that 
 he seemed to stand in very little need of them, and that he 
 did not seem to care for them at all. Not that he was 
 rude, but he was indifferent to everything, a very aston- 
 ishing thing on the part of a man of the people. 
 
 " Never mind — do your best, please," said Sipiagin. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin promised to do her best, and she kept her 
 word. She had an interview at once with Kallomeitsef. 
 No one knew what she said to him, but he sat down at 
 table with the air of a man who had resolved to remain calm 
 and discreet whatever he might hear. 
 
 This air of determined resignation gave him a slight tinge 
 of melancholy, but then the dignity that there was in his 
 every motion ! 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin presented Solomine to every person in the 
 house (he looked at Marianne more attentively that at the 
 others), and she had him sit at her right hand at the dinner 
 table. Kallomeitsef was at her left. As he unfolded his 
 
 183 
 
1 84 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 napkin, he half closed his eyes, and smiled, as if he would 
 say, " Come, gentlemen, let us play out our comedy." 
 
 Sipiagin sat opposite, and watched him with some 
 anxiety. 
 
 In consequence of the new disposition of seats, Nesh- 
 danof was no longer near Marianne. He was placed be- 
 tween Sipiagin and Anna Zakharovna. 
 
 Marianne found her card (it was a ceremonious dinner) 
 upon the napkin between Kallomei'tsef and Kola. 
 
 The dinner was handsomely served. There was even 
 put before each plate a menu written upon a little illumin- 
 ated sheet of paper. 
 
 Immediately after the soup, Sipiagin turned the conver- 
 sation to his factory, and upon the industrial production of 
 Russia in general. Solomine, as usual, replied in very brief 
 sentences. When he began to speak Marianne fastened her 
 eyes upon him. Kallomei'tsef, who was sitting next her, 
 made some polite remarks to her (to avoid engaging in 
 the conversation as he had promised), but she did not 
 listen to him. However, he uttered his compliments with- 
 out feeling them, merely to salve his conscience, being 
 very sure that between this young girl and himself there 
 was an abyss that was not to be passed. 
 
 As for Neshdanof, something worse still lay between him 
 and the master of the house. Sipiagin considered him 
 henceforth as a mere piece of furniture, or as empty space. 
 He had positively forgotten his very existence ! This new 
 position had established itself so quickly and so completely 
 that when Neshdanof said a few words during dinner in 
 reply to a remark of Anna's, Sipiagin turned his head with 
 astonishment, as if he was about to ask where those sounds 
 came from. 
 
 Evidently Sipiagin possessed some of the qualities which 
 especially distinguish our loftiest Russian dignitaries. 
 
 After the fish, Valentine, who had lavished all her graces 
 and fascinations upon her right-hand neighbor, that is upon 
 Solomine, said in English to her husband across the table : 
 
 " Our guest does not drink wine ; perhaps he would take 
 some beer." 
 
 Sipiagin hastened to order " some ale ! " 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 185 
 
 But Solomine, turning quietly toward Valentine, said : 
 
 " Madame, you are probably not aware that I passed 
 more than two years in England, and that I understand and 
 speak English. I tell you this in case you desire to say 
 anything secretly before me." 
 
 Valentine hastened to assure him, with a laugh, that the 
 precaution was useless, for he would have heard nothing 
 but good of himself. In the depths of her heart, she felt 
 that this conduct of Solomine's was a little strange, but ex- 
 ceedingly delicate in its manner. 
 
 Kallomei'tsef was unable to restrain himself longer. 
 
 " You have been in England," he began, " and you are 
 doubtless acquainted with the customs of the country. Al- 
 low me to ask you if you think them worthy of imitation ? " 
 
 " Upon certain points, yes ; on others, no." 
 
 " Short and sweet," replied Kallomei'tsef, refusing to see 
 the signals made to him by Sipiagin. " You were speaking 
 of the nobility just now — you had occasion, I suppose, to 
 study those whom the English call their ' landed gentry.' " 
 
 " No, I had not the opportunity ; I lived in a wholly 
 different sphere, but I have formed my opinion about those 
 gentlemen." 
 
 "Well, do you think it impossible that such a race of 
 landed gentry could exist here, and that in any case it 
 might be desirable ? " 
 
 "I think, to tell the truth, that it is impossible, and 
 moreover that it would be very undesirable." 
 
 " Why so, my dear Mr. Solomine ? " 
 
 This "dear Mr. Solomine" was thrown in to reassure 
 Sipiagin, who seemed to be very restless, and was moving 
 uneasily in his chair. 
 
 "Because within twenty or thirty years your 'landed 
 gentry' will disappear." 
 
 "Permit me, my dear sir," continued Kallomei'tsef, 
 " but what makes you think that ? " 
 
 " I will tell you. The land will then belong to proprie- 
 tors, without regard to their birth." 
 
 " To the merchants ? " 
 
 " The greater part, without doubt, to the merchants." 
 
 " And in what way will this come about ? " 
 
1 86 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " Simply because the merchants will buy the land." 
 
 " From the noblemen ? " 
 
 " From the noblemen." 
 
 Kallomeitsef smiled with a condescending air. 
 
 " You said the same thing, if my memory serves me, 
 apropos of the factories and industrial establishments, 
 And now you say it of the entire soil ? " 
 
 "And now I say it of the entire soil." 
 
 "And you will be delighted at such a result, I sup- 
 pose ? " 
 
 " Not the least in the world. I told you just now the 
 people will be none the happier for it." 
 
 Kallomeitsef raised his hand slightly, as if to say, " What 
 solicitude for the people ! " 
 
 " Monsieur Solomine ! " cried Sipiagin as loud as he 
 could, " they have brought you some beer. Come, Sim- 
 eon," he added, in a low tone. 
 
 But Kallomeitsef was fairly launched. 
 
 " I see," he continued, again addressing Solomine, " that 
 you have no very favorable opinion of the merchants, but 
 they have their origin in the people." 
 
 " Perfectly true." 
 
 " I thought that everything pertaining to the people, 
 however distantly, seemed perfect in your eyes." 
 
 "Oh, no, sir. You are greatly mistaken in thinking 
 that. Our people merit reproach in many ways, although 
 they are not always to blame. Our merchants, up to the 
 present time, are sharpers. They carry on their business 
 like sharpers. What's to be done ? They have been 
 fleeced ; they fleece in their turn. As to the people — " 
 
 " Well, as to the people ? " repeated Kallomeitsef, in a 
 sharp tone. 
 
 " They are sleeping." 
 
 " And you would awaken them ? " 
 
 " It would not be such a bad thing." 
 
 " Ah, that's what you are at ! " 
 
 "Allow me, allow me," interposed Sipiagin in an impera- 
 tive voice. He saw that the time had come to interpose a 
 barrier, and he interposed it. Leaning the elbow of his 
 right arm upon the table, and waving the hand of this arm 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 187 
 
 in the air to the right and then to the left, he dehvered a 
 long and very ministerial discourse. In the first place, he 
 praised the Conservatives ; then he expressed his approval 
 of the Liberals, according a slight preference to the lat- 
 ter, with whom he declared he sided. He extolled the 
 people, but not without pointing out their weaknesses ; he 
 expressed entire confidence in the government, but asked 
 if all the underlings conformed to its fostering intentions. 
 He proclaimed the use and importance of literature, but he 
 observed that moderation should be the sine qua non of its 
 existence. He turned his attention toward the West : he 
 first rejoiced, then expressed doubts. He turned to the 
 East : he was first all tranquility, then was full of hope. 
 And finally, he proposed a toast to the triple alliance, 
 Religion, Agriculture, and Trade. 
 
 " Beneath the shield of Power," added Kallomeitsef in a 
 severe tone. 
 
 " Beneath the shield of a power, at once wise and benefi- 
 cent," corrected Sipiagin. 
 
 The guests drank in silence. The empty space on the 
 left of the orator, or in other words, Neshdanof, gave forth, 
 it is true, a word of disapproval ; but having attracted no 
 one's attention, it relapsed into silence, and the dinner 
 came pleasantly to an end, undisturbed by any new dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 Valentine, with the most ravishing smile, offered Solo- 
 mine a cup of coffee. He declined it, and was already 
 casting his eyes about for his hat, when Sipiagin passed his 
 hand gently through his arm, led him into his study, and 
 first offering him a capital cigar, he proposed placing his 
 factory under his charge, upon the most favorable terms. 
 
 " You will be absolute master, Mr. Solomine, absolute 
 master." 
 
 Solomine accepted the cigar, but declined the proposi- 
 tion. The most pressing entreaties on the part of Sipiagin 
 could not shake him. 
 
 " At least don't give me a positive ' no,' my dear Mr. 
 Solomine, but say that you will reflect upon it until tc-mor- 
 row." 
 
 " It will be the same then, for I cannot accept." 
 
1 88 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " Until tomorrow, I beg of you ! What can that favoi 
 cost you ? " 
 
 Solomine was forced to admit that as a matter of fact it 
 would cost him nothing. Nevertheless, on leaving the 
 study, he began at once to look for his hat. But Nesh- 
 danof, with v/hom, up to this moment, he had had no op- 
 portunity of exchanging a word, approached him and said 
 quickly : 
 
 " Don't go away, I beg of you, for we have not had our 
 talk." 
 
 Solomine put down his hat, and at this moment Sipiagin, 
 seeing him walking irresolutely in the parlor, cried out to 
 him : 
 
 " You will pass the night with us, will you not ? Of 
 course you will." 
 
 " I am at your service," replied Solomine. 
 
 Marianne, from the recess of the window threw him a 
 look so full of gratitude that he grew thoughtful at once. 
 
XXV. 
 
 BEFORE seeing Solomine, Marianne had pictured him 
 as a very different person. At the first glance, he ap- 
 peared commonplace, like the ordinary run of men. She 
 had certainly seen in her life many men just like him, fair, 
 thin, and muscular. 
 
 But as she watched him and listened to what he said, she 
 felt a growing confidence in him. It was indeed a feeling of 
 confidence, and nothing else, that he inspired. This man, 
 with his quiet manner, not at all awkward, but a little heavy, 
 could be neither a liar nor a braggart, and one might lean 
 upon him as upon a stone wall. He would not betray — 
 more than that, he would understand and sustain you. 
 Marianne ended by persuading herself that Solomine must 
 have made the same impression not only upon herself, but 
 upon all who were present. She attributed no particular 
 importance to what he said — all these discussions about the 
 factories and merchants hardly interested her ; but what 
 pleased her so much was the way in which he spoke, the 
 look, the smile which accompanied it. 
 
 He Wris a truthful man, which was the most important 
 thing in her eyes, and the one that influenced her most. 
 
 There is one thing certain, although difficult to explain : 
 the Russians are, of all people in the world, the most 
 steeped in falsehood, and yet they esteem and love nothing 
 so much as honesty. Moreover, in Marianne's eyes, Solo- 
 mine was encircled with a sort of aureole — he was one o( 
 those whom Vassili Nicholaivitch had recommended to his 
 adherents. 
 
 During dinner she had exchanged glances with Neshdanof 
 regarding him, and toward the end of the meal she sur- 
 prised herself making comparisons between them, which 
 \vere not to Neshdanoi's advantage. 
 
 1S9 
 
1 90 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Neshdanof, it is true, had many more refined and more 
 agreeable qualities ; but his face expressed a mixture of rest- 
 less emotions, spite, annoyance, impatience, and even a cer- 
 tain despondency. He seemed to be sitting on thorns. He 
 would s art to speak and then suddenly grow silent. His 
 laugh was forced. 
 
 Solomine, on the other hand, although he seemed a little 
 bored, was perfectly at home. Simply seeing him, you felt 
 that this man's mode of life was absolutely independent of 
 others. 
 
 " Decidedly, I will ask his advice : he will certainly tell 
 me something valuable." 
 
 It was she who dispatched Neshdanof to him after din- 
 ner. 
 
 The evening passed off stupidly enough. Fortunately, 
 dinner was over late, and night was not far off. Kallomeit- 
 sef was politely distant and silent. 
 
 " What's happened to you 1 " said Mme. Sipiagin to him, 
 half seriously, half jokingly. " Have you lost anything .? " 
 
 "Exactly,'' replied Kallomeitsef "The story is told of 
 one of our generals of the guard, who complained because 
 the soldiers had lost their step. ' Go find me this step, 
 cried he. And so I say, ' Go find for me this ' Conde- 
 scend to order, sir.' The ' sir ' has disappeared, and with it 
 all respect and all subordination." 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin declared that she could not aid him in his 
 search. 
 
 Encouraged by the success of his speech at dinner, Sipia- 
 gin delivered two other little discourses. He discussed the 
 conduct of the government upon certain indispensable 
 measures ; he even launched forth a speech, more elaborate 
 than subtle, that he had prepared especially for St. Peters- 
 burg. In repeating one of the points of the speech he even 
 preceded it with the formula, " If I may so express myself" 
 It was apropos of one of the ministers then in power ; he 
 spoke of him as an uncertain, vain spirit, always tending 
 toward chimerical and illusory aims. On the other hand, 
 Sipiagin, not forgetting that he was dealing with a Russian, 
 a man of the people, took great care to use certain expres- 
 sions destined to show that he was himself a true Russian, 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 191 
 
 and that the very secrets of the life of the people were famil- 
 iar to him. 
 
 Thus, Kallomeitsef having remarked that the rain might 
 spoil the hay crop, he immediately replied with the saying, 
 "If the hay fails the buckwheat will thrive." He quoted 
 also a series of proverbs, such as : 
 
 "Merchandise without a merchant is like an orphan." 
 
 " Measure the cloth ten times before you cut it once." 
 
 " When there is wheat, there is no lack of bushels." 
 
 " When at St. George's Day birches have leaves as large 
 as a farthing, gather your wheat for the feast of Our Lady of 
 Kazan," 
 
 Several times he made mistakes, and would say, for in- 
 stance (confounding two proverbs), "Leave the curlew 
 alone on his perch," or, " The gold of the cage feeds the 
 bird." 
 
 But the people before whom these accidents happened did 
 not suspect that our true Russian had made any mistake, and 
 moreover, thanks to Prince Kovrijkine, they were already 
 accustomed to such Russian solecisms. Besides, Sipiagin 
 pronounced these proverbs and sayings in a peculiar voice, 
 loud, and even a little coarse, a sort of " peasant's voice." 
 
 These sentences, uttered at St. Petersburg, in their proper 
 time and place, would make the lofty ladies say : 
 
 ' ' How well he knows the habits of the people.'' 
 
 And the high and mighty dignitaries would add : 
 
 "Their habits and their needs." 
 
 Valentine devoted herself to Solomine, but the evident 
 lack of success of all her efforts discouraged her ; and in 
 passing Kallomeitsef she could not help saying in an under- 
 tone : 
 
 "Ah, how tired I am ! " 
 
 To which he replied with an ironical bow : 
 
 ' ' ' Tu Vas voulii, Georges Dandin I ' " 
 
 At last, after enduring the formalities and compliments 
 that usually precede the moment of breaking up of a com- 
 pany where we have been very much bored, after the sudden 
 pressure of the hand, the smiles and friendly expressions 
 that custom requires, the visitors and their guests separated 
 equally tired out. 
 
192 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Solomine, after being put in one of the handsomest 
 rooms, if indeed not the handsomest, on the second story, 
 furnished in the English fashion, with a bath-room attached, 
 went in search of Neshdanof. 
 
 The young student began by thanking him warmly for 
 consenting to remain. 
 
 "I know," said he, "how great a sacrifice it was." 
 
 " Why," said Solomine in his quiet way, " what sacrifice 
 was it ? But I can refuse you nothing." 
 
 "Why.?" 
 
 " Because I have come to look on you as a friend." 
 
 Neshdanof was as delighted as he was surprised. Solo- 
 mine pressed his hand. Then he sat astride his chair, lit 
 a cigar, and with his elbows on the back, he said : 
 
 " Well, what's the matter.?" 
 
 Neshdanof seated himself in the same way, but he did 
 not light a cigar. 
 
 "The matter.? The matter is that I am going to run 
 away ! " 
 
 " You want to leave .? Good Lord ! " 
 
 " No, not leave, but run away from it ! " 
 
 "Are they obliging you to stay, or have you drawn your 
 pay in advance.? If so, just say the word, and Til — " 
 
 "You don't understand me, my dear Solomine; I said 
 'nin away,' and not 'leave,' because I am not going 
 alone." 
 
 Solomine raised his head. 
 
 " Whom are you going with .? " 
 
 "With the young girl that you saw here to-day." 
 
 "Ah! she is a fine-looking girl. Do you love one 
 another, or is it merely that you have decided to leave 
 together a house in which you are not comfortable ? " 
 
 " We love one another." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Solomine reflected for a moment. 
 
 "Is she a relative of the family .? " 
 
 "Yes. But she shares all our opinions. She is fully 
 prepared." 
 
 Solomine smiled. 
 
 " And you, Neshdanof, are you prepared ? " 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 193 
 
 Neshdanof frowned slightly. 
 
 ' ' Why do you ask me ? Time will show." 
 
 " 1 do not doubt you, Neshdanof; if I put the question, 
 it was because I suspect that no one except you is prepared." 
 
 "And Markelof.?" 
 
 "Yes, true. Markelof. But he, I suppose, was born 
 ready." 
 
 At that moment, some one knocked at the door twice, 
 quickly and cautiously. Then the door was opened with- 
 out awaiting a reply. It was Marianne. She walked 
 directly up to Solomine. 
 
 " I am sure," she began, ' ' that you will not be surprised 
 at seeing me here at this hour. He has of course told you 
 all " (pointing to Neshdanof). " Give me your hand, and 
 be sure that it is an honest woman who stands before you." 
 
 " Yes, I am sure of that," replied Solomine in a serious 
 tone. 
 
 He had arisen from his chair when Marianne came in. 
 
 "I was watching you all through dinner, and I said to 
 myself. What honest eyes she has ! Neshdanof has told me 
 of your project. But tell me exactly why you wish to fly ? " 
 
 "Why ? Because of the work, in which I sympathize. Do 
 not be surprised, Neshdanof has concealed nothing from me. 
 The work is to begin in a few days, and shall I remain in 
 this aristocratic house where all is falsehood and deceit .? 
 Those that I love will be in danger, and shall I—" 
 
 Solomine interrupted her .with a gesture. 
 
 " Do not excite yourself; take a chair ; I will sit down 
 too. You too, Nesiidanof, sit down ; now listen. If this 
 is the only motive, there is no need of going yet. The 
 work of which you speak will begin later than you think 
 for. A little prudence will do no harm. We should not 
 rush madly with our eyes closed, you may be sure." 
 
 Marianne sat down, and wrapped herself in a large shawl 
 which she had thrown over her shoulders. 
 
 " 1 cannot remain here longer ! Here every one insults 
 me ! This very day, did not Anna speak to me before 
 Kola, alluding to my father, that as the twig is bent the 
 tree will grow.' Kola, astonished, asked me what she 
 meant. As to Mme. Sipiagin, I never speak to her I " 
 
 13 
 
194 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Solomine interrupted her again, this time with a smile ; 
 Marianr.e felt that he was amused by her, but Solomine's 
 smile never wounded any one. 
 
 " What is all this about, my dear young lady ? I neither 
 know this Anna, nor understand your allusion to the tree. 
 But what does it amount to 1 A silly woman makes a silly 
 speech to you, and you cannot bear it ! How then will you 
 live ? The whole world is made up of silly people ! This 
 is no good reason. Have you no other ?" 
 
 "I am convinced," interposed Neshdanof, in a hard 
 voice, " that some day or otlier Mr. Sipiagin will send me 
 away. It has certainly been talked about. He treats me 
 in the most contemptuous manner ! " 
 
 Solomine turned to Neshdanof. " Why run away, then, if 
 you are sure they are going to send you away ? " 
 
 Neshdanof was confused for a moment. 
 
 " I have already explained to you — " he began. 
 
 "He goes because I am to go with him," cried Mari- 
 anne. 
 
 Solomine looked at her, and shaking his head pleasantly, 
 "Yes, exactly, my dear young lady; but I repeat tliat if 
 you are really leaving this house because you imagine tl.at 
 the revolution is about to burst — " 
 
 "It was." inerrupted Marianne, "to consult you on 
 these matters that we begged you to come." 
 
 "In that case," continued Solomine, "you can re- 
 main in this house, and for some time. But if you wish to 
 go because you love one another, and you have no other 
 means of being united, in that case — " 
 
 "In that case?" 
 
 " Itonly remains for me to wish you, according to the old 
 formula, love and concord, and to aid you to the extent of 
 my ability, if it is necessary and possible. For at the 
 very first sight, I felt toward you both as a brother." 
 
 Marianne and Neshdanof approached him simultane- 
 ously, and seized his hands. 
 
 "Tell us only what we must do," cried Marianne. "The 
 revolution is still in the distance; so be it ! But only tell 
 us what steps, what preparations are necessar)'- — though 
 preparations are impossible in this house, and under tSiese 
 
VIRGIN iiOlL. 
 
 195 
 
 circumstances — and we will do what we can with i full heait 
 together 1 Only tell us where we should go. Sen 1 us. You 
 will send us, will you not .? " 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Among the people, of course ! " 
 
 " Into the forest? " thought Neshdanof, who recalled Pak- 
 line's words. 
 
 Soloraine looked attentively at Marianne. 
 
 ■' You wish to know the people ? " 
 
 " Yes, not only to know them, but to act, to work for 
 them." 
 
 "Very well ; I promise that you shall know them. I 
 will give you the means of acting, of working for them. 
 And you, Neshdanof, do you purpose devoting yourself to 
 her, and to the people ? " 
 
 "Undoubtedly,'' replied Neshdanof quickly. "Jugger- 
 naut," thought he, recalling once more Pakline's words, 
 " see the enormous chariot advancing. I hear already the 
 grinding and rumbling of its wheels." 
 
 "Very well," said Solomine, with a thoughtful air; 
 " when do you intend leaving ? " 
 
 " To-morrow, if you wish." 
 
 " Very well. Where are you going ? " 
 
 "Hush! — speak lower, " whispered Neshdanof; "some 
 one is walking in the corridor." 
 
 All three were silent for a moment. 
 
 " Where do you intend taking refuge ? " continued Solo- 
 raine, lowering his voice. 
 
 " We donot know," replied Marianne. 
 
 Solomine turned toward Neshdanof, who shook his head. 
 
 Solomine extended his hand and u -efully snuffed the 
 candle, then continued : 
 
 "Listen, my friends ; come to my house at the factory. 
 It is not a handsome place, but you will be in safety ; I 
 will conceal you. I have but one room. No one will seek 
 for you there. Only get there, and we will not betray you. 
 You will say that there are a great many people in a factory 
 That is precisely its advantage. Where there are so many, 
 it is all the easier to hide. How will it do? Eh ? " 
 
 " How can we thank you ? " replied Neshdanof. 
 
196 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 And Marianne, whom the idea of the factory had at firsl 
 frightened a little, added quickly : 
 
 " Oh, yes, yts ; how gnod you are ! But you will not 
 keep us there a long while, will you? You will send us 
 away somewhere ? " 
 
 "That is for you to say. And in case you wish to be 
 mariied, I will do all that is necessary for that. 7'here 
 is in the neighborhood, very near the factory, a priest named 
 Znssime, a fine fellow, very accommodating, who is a cousin 
 of mine. He will marry you out of hand." 
 
 Marianne smiled quietly. Neshdanof pressed Solomine's 
 hand anew ; then, after a moment : 
 
 "Tell me," he asked : "the proprietor of the factory, 
 how will he like this ? May he not make trouble .? " 
 
 "Don't disturb yourself about that, it's unnecessary," re- 
 plied Solomine ; "so long as his factory goes .on as it 
 should, he cares for nothing else. And neither you nor 
 this charming lady will have anything to fear from him. 
 Neither need you fear the workmen. Only let me know 
 beforehand. About what time shall I expect you .? " 
 
 Marianne and Neshdanof looked at one another. 
 
 " Day after to-morrow, early, or the next day, "said Nesh- 
 danof at last. " There is no time to lose. I maybe dis- 
 missed at any moment." 
 
 "It is understood then," replied Solomine, rising. "I 
 will expect you every morning, and I will not be absent 
 during the entire week. Every precaution shall be taken." 
 
 Marianne, who had taken a step toward the door, ad- 
 vanced toward him. 
 
 "Adieu, dear Vassili Fedoitch. That is your name, is 
 it not? ■' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Adieu — or no — au revoir ! And thanks, thanks ! " 
 
 " Good-by — good night, my dear child." 
 
 "Good-b}', Neshdanof — until to-morrow," she added, 
 and quickly left the room. 
 
 The two young men remained a moment moti .unless and 
 silent. 
 
 " Neshdanof 1" said Solomine at last ; then he was silcuf 
 again. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 197 
 
 " Neshdanof ! " he continued, "tell me what you 
 know about this young girl. What has been her life up to 
 the present time ? Who is she ? How comes she here ? " 
 
 Neshdanof related briefly all that he knew. 
 
 Solomine listened with profound attention. 
 
 " Neshdanof," said he at last, " watch over this young 
 girl well. For if ever — if it should happen — ^it would be a 
 wicked thing on your part. Good night." 
 
 He hurried away. Neshdanof remained some time in 
 the middle of the room, and then murmured : 
 
 " So much the worse. Let's think no more about it." 
 
 Marianne on returning to her room found upon her 
 table a little note, which read as follows : 
 
 " You pain me. You are destroying yourself. Reflect 
 into what an abyss you are blindly throwing yourself I For 
 whom and why ? " 
 
 A fresh, penetrating perfume was in the room ; evidently 
 Valentine had just gone out. 
 
 Marianne took up a pen, and wrote underneath this 
 note : 
 
 " Do not pity me. Heaven knows which of us is mere 
 to be pitied. I know, for my part, that I would not be in 
 your place. M." 
 
 She left the note upon the table, perfectly sure that her 
 reply would fall into Valentine's hands. 
 
 The next morning, Solomine, having had an interview 
 with Neshdanof, and finally declined Sipiagin's proposition, 
 returned home. 
 
 He reflected throughout the journey — a thing which 
 scarcely ever happened, the jolting of the carriage usually 
 putting him nearly to sleep. 
 
 He thought of Marianne, and of Neshdanof ; he said to 
 himself that if he had been in love, he would have acted 
 and spoken differently. But he added, as that had never 
 happened to him, he could hardly know in what way he 
 would have acted. 
 
 He remembered an Irish girl he had seen one day in a 
 shop, behind the counter ; she had magnificent hair, nearly 
 black, and blue eyes with long lashes ; she had looked at 
 him with an air at once sad and questioning ; he had 
 
198 VIRGIN SOiL. 
 
 walked up and down the street a long time before the win- 
 dows, full of agitation ; he had asked himself whether he 
 should or should not make her acquaintance. 
 
 At that time, he was on his way to London ; his em- 
 ployer had sent him to make some purchases, and had in- 
 trusted him with a considerable sum of money. Solomine 
 was near sending back the money, and remaining in Lon- 
 don, so great had been the impression made upon him by 
 the beautiful Polly. (He learned her name — one of the 
 other girls in the shop called her by that name.) But he 
 conquered himself, and returned to his employer. Polly 
 was prettier than Marianne, but the latter had the same sad 
 and questioning look, and she was a Russian. 
 
 "But what has got into me.? " cried he suddenly, almost 
 aloud, '' bothering my head about another man's sweet- 
 heart ! " 
 
 And he shook the collar of his coat as if he would have 
 liked to shake away at the same time all superfluous 
 thoughts. He arrived just then at the factory, and upon 
 the threshold of his door appeared the outline of his faithful 
 Paul. 
 
XXVI. 
 
 SOLOMINE'S refusal deeply vexed Sipiagin. lie sud- 
 denly perceived that this Stephenson of the soil was 
 not so very remarkable a machinist, and that he made him- 
 self out very important and very hard to please, like the 
 plebeian that he was. 
 
 "All these Russians, when they imagine they know any- 
 thing, become impracticable ! Kallomei'tsef is right after all." 
 
 Under the influence of these disagreeable and irritating 
 feelings, the statesman in embryo grew haughtier and more 
 distant than ever toward Neshdanof. He gave Kola to 
 understand that he could not take his lesson that day with 
 his teacher, for he must accustom himself to do without his 
 guide. Still he did not immediately turn the instructor out 
 of doors, as the tutor himself feared. He continued to 
 ignore his existence. 
 
 On the other hand Valentine did not ignore that of 
 Marianne. A terrible scene took place between the two. 
 
 Shortly after dinner they found themselves by chance 
 alone in the salon. Each felt immediately that the hour 
 for the inevitable encounter had come, so after a moment's 
 hesitation they approached one another slowly. 
 
 Valentine smiled lightly ; Marianne compressed her lips. 
 They were both pale. While crossing the parlor Valentine 
 looked from side to side, and plucked a geranium leaf. 
 Marianne's eyes were fixed steadfastly upon the smil- 
 ing face which was approaching her. 
 
 Mme. Sipiagin was the first to stop, and tapping with her 
 fingers upon the back of a chair : 
 
 "Miss Marianne," said she carelessly, "it seems to me 
 that we are very regular correspondents for two persons 
 living under the same roof; it is a very odd procedure, and 
 you know 1 have little taste for oddities," 
 
 199 
 
200 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 "It was not I, madame, who opened this correspon- 
 dence." 
 
 "You are right. For this once I am to blame for the 
 eccentricity. But I could find no other means to awaken 
 in 3-ou the feeling — what shall I say .? — the feeling- — " 
 
 "Speak plainly; do not embarrass yourself — don't be 
 afraid of paining me." 
 
 "The feeling — of propriety. " 
 
 Valentine stopped. Nothing was heard in the parlor 
 but the light tapping of her fingers on the back of the 
 chiir. 
 
 "And where have you found me lacking in propriety?" 
 retorted Marianne. 
 
 Valentine shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "My dear, you are no child, and you understand me 
 perfectly. You imagine perhaps that your conduct remains 
 a secret to me, to Anna, to the whole house ? Why, you 
 have taken scarcely any pains to keep it a secret. You 
 have simply flaunted everything. My husband alone, per- 
 haps, has noticed nothing up to the present time. He has 
 other things to occupy him, more interesting to him and 
 more important. But, with the exception of him, every 
 one in the house knows your conduct, every one ! " 
 
 Marianne grew paler and paler. 
 
 "I beg you, madame, to explain yourself more clearly. 
 With what exactly are you displeased ? " 
 
 " Insolent creature," thought Valentine, but she restrained 
 herself. 
 
 "You desire to know why I am displeased.? Very 
 well. I am displeased with your prolonged interviews 
 with a young man who, by birth, by education, and by 
 his social position is wholly inferior to you. -I am dis- 
 pleased — no, the word is not .strong enough — I am dis- 
 gusted at your visits to him at unseasonable hours, at your 
 visits to his room at night. And all this under my roof! 
 You think perhaps that it is proper that I should be silent, 
 and stand by you in some way in your folly. .As ;in honorable 
 woman — yes, miss, I have been, I am, and always will be 
 that — as an honorable woman, it is impossible for me to ex- 
 press my indignation." 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 20 1 
 
 Valentine let herself fall into an arm-chair, as though the 
 very weight of this indignation crushed her. 
 
 Marianne smiled for the first time. 
 
 " I do not doubt your honor, past, present, or future — I 
 say this in all sincerity. But you excite yourself unneces- 
 sarily. I have brought no shame upon your house. The 
 young man to whom you allude, I — yes, I love ! " 
 
 " You love Mr. Neshdanof ? " 
 
 " I love him ! " 
 
 Valentine straightened herself in her chair. 
 
 "Come, Marianne, he is a student, without birth or fam- 
 ily. He is younger than you are." Valentine was not sorry 
 to say these last words. " What can be the end of all this .? 
 You, who are intelligent, what can you find in him ? He 
 is an insignificant hobbledehoy." 
 
 "You were not always of that opinion." 
 
 "Oh, my dear, for Heaven's sake, don't trouble yourself 
 about me. Don't show so much feeling, please. We are 
 talking of your future. Come, seriously, is he. a suitable 
 match for you.? " 
 
 "I confess I had not thought of him as a match, as you 
 say." 
 
 " How ? What 1 How do I understand you .-' Let us ad- 
 mit that you have followed your heart's impulse. But of 
 course that should have marriage for its end." 
 
 " I know nothing at all — I have not thought of that." 
 
 " You have not thought of it ? Why you are losing youi 
 mind." 
 
 Marianne turned her eyes away slightly. 
 
 " Let us cut this interview short, madame. It can ac- 
 complish nothing. We cannot understand each other. 
 
 Valen ine arose brusquely. 
 
 " I cannot, I ought not to shorten thjs interview. It is 
 too serious. I say to you before—" (Valentine wanted to 
 say "before Heaven," but she hesitated, and said instead) 
 ' ' before the whole world, I cannot be silent when I hear 
 such nonsense. Why can't I understand you.? What is 
 the meaning of this insufferable pride that takes possession 
 of all young people? No — I understand you too well. 
 I understand that you are nursing these new ideas 
 
202 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 that are carrying you to ruin. But it will be too late 
 then ! " 
 
 "Perhaps, but rest assured that even if we are perishing, 
 we will not hold up a finger for you to save us." 
 
 Valentine clasped her hands. 
 
 "Still this pride, this frightful pride I Come, Marianne, 
 listen to me," she added suddenly, changing her tone. She 
 tried to draw Marianne to her, but she drew back. " Listen 
 to me, I conjure you. After all I am neither so old, nor so 
 stupid that you can't understand me. I am not full of prej- 
 udices. When I was young, I was looked upon as a repub- 
 lican, just like you Listen, To speak frankly, I have never 
 felt a mother's tenderness toward you, and it was never in 
 you to miss it ; but I have known, 1 know, that I have a 
 great responsibility with regard to you, and I have always 
 endeavored to discharge it. Perhaps the match I had 
 planned for you, and to bring about which neither my hus- 
 band nor myself would have shrunk from any sacrifice — per- 
 haps this match would not correspond witli your ideas in 
 every respect; but believe me, from the bo tom of my heart — " 
 
 Marianne looked fi.xedly at Valentine, her fine eyes, her 
 red lips impercefitibly painted, her white hands with their 
 fingers covered with rings, and lightly parted, as the beau- 
 tiful lady pressed them in such an expressive way upon the 
 waist of her silk dress ; she interrupted her curtly : 
 
 "A match, }'ou say, a match. You mean that vile, 
 heartless man, Kallomeitsef .^ " 
 
 Valentine withdrew her fingers from her dress. 
 
 "Yes, Marianne, I mean that Mr. Kallomeitsef, that 
 excellent and cultivated young man, who will make his 
 wife happy, and who could only be refused by one who is 
 mad, actually mad ! " 
 
 "Then, aunt, I must be mad ! " 
 
 " But once more ; seriously, what fault can you find with 
 him .? " 
 
 "Oh, none at all. I despise him, that's all." 
 
 Valentine shook her head impatiently, and fell again into 
 the arm-chair. 
 
 " Well, let us say no more about him. Let us return to 
 our subject. You are in love with Neshdanof ? " 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 203 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "And you intend to continue your interviews with him ? " 
 
 "Yes, unquestionably." 
 
 " And if I should forbid you .?" 
 
 " I should not obey you ! " 
 
 Valentine leaped from her chair. 
 
 " Ah, you would not obey me ! And I hear this from a 
 young woman whom I have loaded with benefits, from a 
 young woman whom I have received into my house, fron.-^ 
 from — " 
 
 "From the daughter of a dishonored father," finished 
 Marianne in a sad voice. " Go on — speak out plainly." 
 
 " It was not I who said that, miss, but in any event it is 
 not a thing to be proud of! A young woman who eats my 
 bread." 
 
 " Do not reproach me with that, madame. A French 
 governess for your Kola would have cost you more money, 
 and I have given him French lessons " 
 
 Valentine raised her right hand, which held a cambric 
 handkerchief, embroidered with a monogram in the corner, 
 and perfumed ; she was about to speak, but Marianne con- 
 tinued impetuously ; 
 
 " You would be right, a thousand times right, if instead 
 of all the things you have enumerated, instead of all these 
 pretended kindnesses, you could simply say, 'The young 
 woman whom I have loved.' But you have still sufficient 
 honesty not to lie to that extent." Marianne trembled as i( 
 with a fever. "You have always detested me. At this 
 very moment in the depths of your heart, about which you 
 say so much, you are delighted, yes, delighted, at seeing 
 that I am realizing your constaiit predictions, that I am 
 covering myself with disgrace ; and the only thing that dis- 
 pleases you is that a part of the scandal must fall upon your 
 aristocratic, your honorable house ! " 
 
 " You insult me," stammered Valentine. " Go ! " 
 
 But Marianne no longer restrained herself. 
 
 " Your house, you tell me, all your household, and Anna, 
 and everybody knows of my conduct, and everyone is filled 
 with alarm and indignation. But do you think that by any 
 chance I ask anything of you or your household ? that 1 
 
204 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 attach the least value to their opinion ? Do you suppose 
 your bread has not been bitter indeed to me? What 
 poverty would I not prefer to such riches ! Is there not an 
 abyss between your house and me, an ab3'ss that nothing 
 can ever fill ? Is it possible that you — for you too are a 
 woman of intelligence — have not been conscious of all this? 
 And if you feel only hate toward me, is it possible that you 
 do not understand the feeling that I have for you, and 
 which I do not express — only because it is too evident ? " 
 
 " Leave the room, leave the room, I tell you," repeated 
 Valentine stamping on the floor with her delicate little foot. 
 
 Marianne took a single step toward the door. 
 
 "I shall relieve you of my presence. But let me tell 
 you this : we know that Rachel, Rachel herself in Racine's 
 Bajazet could never say ' Go ! ' as it should be said. And 
 you! You are always saying, ' I am an honorable woman, 
 I have been, and always shall be ! ' Well, I am very sure 
 that I am much more honorable than you are. Adieu." 
 
 Marianne went out quickly. Valentine, starting from 
 her chair, wanted to cry out, to weep — but neither words 
 nor tears came. 
 
 She simply fanned herself with her handkerchief, but 
 the perfume that it gave forth only served to excite her 
 nerves still more. She felt wretched, mortified. She ac- 
 knowledged that there was some truth in what she had 
 heard. But how could she be judged so harshl)', so un- 
 justly ? 
 
 " Have I really been so bad ? " she thought. 
 
 She glanced into a mirror that hung between two win- 
 dows. The mirror reflected a charming face, touched and 
 lined with red, and superb eyes, soft as velvet. 
 
 "I? I wicked ? " thought she, "with such eyes ! " 
 
 But at that moment her husband entered, and she again 
 buried her face in her handkerchief 
 
 " What ails you ? " he asked with anxiety ; "what is the 
 matter, Valia ? " He had invented this pet name for her, 
 the diminutive of Valentine, and he only called her by it 
 when they were absolutely alone together ; particularly in 
 the country. 
 
 She began by saying that it was nothing at all, but at last 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 205 
 
 turning in her chair, with a graceful and affecting move- 
 ment, she threw both her hands upon his shoulders (he 
 was standing, leaning toward her) ; she laid her face on his 
 breast, and told him all, very sincerely, withholding noth- 
 ing, without the least change ; she even tried, if not to ex- 
 onerate, at least in a measure to excuse Marianne ; she laid 
 all the fault on her youth, on her passionate tempera- 
 ment, on the defects of her early education ; to a certain de- 
 gree also and with the same absence of mental reservations, 
 she accused herself. 
 
 "If she had been my own child, this would not have 
 happened. I ought to have watched over her more." 
 
 Sipiagin listened to the end with a sympathetic and con- 
 descending air, mixed somewhat with severity. 
 
 He called her an angel, kissed her forehead, declared 
 that he knew now what course to pursue in his position as 
 master of the house, and went out as a man goes, humane 
 but firm, prepared to fulfill a disagreeable but necessary 
 duty. 
 
 Between seven and eight o'clock, afi:er dinner, Neshda- 
 nof was in his room, writing to his friend Siline. 
 
 " My dear Vladimir, I am writing to you at the time of 
 a pronoun'ced change in my life. I have been dismissed 
 from this house. I go. But that is nothing. I do not go 
 alone. The young girl of whom I have spoken to you 
 goes with me. Everything unites us: the similarity of 
 our fates, ihe agreement of our opinions, of our aspirations, 
 and our common love. We are in love. At least, I am 
 persuaded that I cannot feel the sentiment of love in any 
 different form from that in which it offers itself to me now. 
 
 " But I should be telling a falsehood if I should tell you 
 that I did not experience a secret fear, almost anguish, in 
 my heart. Before us all is dark, and it is into this dark- 
 ness that we two are about to step. I need not explain to 
 you where we are going, or what part we have chosen. Ma- 
 rianne and I do not seek happiness, a gentle, easy life ; we 
 wish to struggle together, side by side, each sustaining the 
 other. Our aim is well defined ; but the road that must lead 
 us to it, of that we are ignorant. 
 
 ' ' Shall we not find, if not sympathy and aid, at least the 
 
■2o6 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 possibility of action ? Marianne is an excellent, an honor- 
 able young girl. If it is our destiny to perish, I shall not 
 reproach myself with having dragged her to it, for there is 
 really no other existence open to her. And yet, Vladimir, 
 there is a weight at my heart — a doubt torments me. Not 
 as to my feelings toward her — oh, no ! but — I know not — 
 still it is too late now to recede. 
 
 " Hold out your hand to us two, from the distance, and 
 wish us pa'ience, self-denial, and strength in love — above 
 all the latter. And you, ye Russian people, whom we know 
 not, but whom we cherish with our whole being, with our 
 heart's blood, receive us, not with indifference, but show 
 us what we must attempt for you. Good-by, Vladimir, 
 good-by ! " 
 
 After having written these lines, Neshdanof went toward 
 the village. 
 
 The following night, just as the dawn began to break, he 
 waited at the edge of the clump of birch trees, not far 
 from Sipiagin's house. A little behind, through the tangled 
 branches of a large thicket of hazel trees, could be seen a 
 country wagon, drawn by two unbridled horses ; under the 
 seat, which was formed of ropes twisted in a network, slept 
 a little, old, gray- haired moujik, upon a handful 'of hay, his 
 head buried in a worn-out patched-up coat. 
 
 Neshdanof looked constantly down the road toward the 
 huge willows that bordered the garden. The bright and 
 calm night still surrounded them. Some few stars, lost in 
 the broad expanse of heaven, twinkled feebly by turns. 
 Along the edges of the fleecy clouds which stretched across 
 the sky there came gliding from the East a pale blush, and 
 at the same time the slight chill of the early dawn. 
 
 Suddenly Neshdanof trembled, and straightened himself 
 up. Somewhere near him a garden gate opened, then 
 closed again. A delicate female form, the head covered 
 with a large handkerchief, a little bundle on her arm, came 
 cautiously from the motionless shadow of the willows, out 
 into the soft dust of the roadway, and crossing it on tip-toe, 
 moved toward the little thicket. 
 
 Neshdanof started forward to meet her. 
 
 " Marianne ! " he murmured. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 207 
 
 "It is I ! " answered a low voice from beneath the hand- 
 kerchief that covered her face. 
 
 "This way, follow me," said Neshdanof, awkwardly tak- 
 ing her by the arm that carried the bundle. 
 
 She shuddered, and pressed her elbows tighter. 
 
 He led her to the carriage, and awoke the peasant, who 
 jumped up quickly, got on the box, drew on his coat, and 
 grasped the reins. The horses were impatient to start ; he 
 calmed them, hoarse with sleep. 
 
 Neshdanof made Marianne sit upon the rope which served 
 for a seat, first spreading his coat over it ; he covered her 
 feet with a blanket — the hay was a little damp — and seating 
 himself near her, he turned to the driver, and said in a low 
 voice : 
 
 " You have your orders, drive on.'' 
 
 The horses, snorting, impatient, dashed out from the 
 thicket, and the carriage, shaking and jolting on its aged 
 wheels, rolled along the road. 
 
 Neshdanof supported his companion's form ; Marianne, 
 pulling aside with her cold fingers the handkerchief that 
 hid her face, turned toward him smiling, and said : 
 
 "Ah, how delightful, how cool it is, Alexis ! " 
 
 "Yes," replied the peasant, "there has been a heavy 
 dew. " 
 
 It was indeed so heavy that the wheel-hubs striking 
 against the tops of the bushes along the way caused little 
 showers to flash out ; the grass was all gray, a steel-gray. 
 
 Marianne again shivered. 
 
 "How fresh, how cool it is!" she repeated joyously. 
 '♦ And liberty, Alexis, liberty 1 " 
 
XXVII. 
 
 SOLOMINE, on hearing that a gentleman and lady had 
 arrived in a carriage and asked to see him, immedi- 
 ately rushed down to the entrance of the factory. 
 
 He did not wait to ask the new-comers after their health, 
 and, confining himself to a nod or two of greeting, he bade 
 the driver enter the court and drive to the right to his own 
 house, and then helped Marianne to alight. Neshdanof 
 leaped out after her. 
 
 Solomine made them traverse a long, dark corridor, mount 
 a narrow stairway, and led them to a retired part of the 
 house on the second floor. There he opened a low door, 
 and the three entered a little room, with t<vo windows, 
 which was neatly furnished. 
 
 " Welcome ! " said Solomine with his ever-present smile, 
 which this time seemed warmer and more cordial than 
 usual. " This is your abode. This room, and another 
 next to it. It is not magnificent, but one can at least find 
 content here, and no one will intrude upon you. Beneath 
 your windows is what my employer calls a flower garden ; 
 I call it a kitchen garden. It is inclosed on all sides by 
 walls. You will be perfectly secluded. So, once more, 
 welcome, my charming young lady ; and you, too, Nesh- 
 danof, welcome ! " 
 
 He pressed the hands of both. 
 
 The young people stood motionless, without taking ofl 
 their traveling clothes, and looked straight before them 
 in a troubled silence, half-surprised, half-delighted. 
 
 "Well, what is it ? " said Solomine. " Out with it. What 
 things have you brought with you ? " 
 
 Marianne showed the little bundle that she still carried 
 in her hand. 
 
 " I have only this." 
 
 208 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. • 209 
 
 " And I," said Neshdanof, " I have a traveling-bag and 
 a valise, which are still in the carriage. I will go — " 
 
 " Stay here ! " 
 
 Solomine opened the door. 
 
 " Paul ! " he called quickly, leaning over the dark stair- 
 way. " There are some things in the carriage ; bring 
 them up." 
 
 " Immediately ! " replied the voice of the ever-present 
 Paul. 
 
 Solomine returned to Marianne, who had taken off her 
 shawl and was unfastening her mantilla. 
 
 " Everything has gone right ? " said he to her. 
 
 " Yes. No one saw us. I left a letter for Mr. Sipiagin. 
 I brought no clothes with me, because, as I am to be a — " 
 (she dared not say, though they knew not why, " among the 
 people,") that was not worth the trouble. I should have no 
 use for them. And I have money to buy what I may need." 
 
 " We will see to that hereafter. But now," continued 
 Solomine, pointing out Paul to them, who entered just then 
 with Neshdanof's things, " I intrust you to the best friend 
 I have in the house ; you may rely upon him as implicitly 
 as upon myself. Have you spoken to Tatiana about the 
 samovar ? " he added in a low tone. 
 
 " They are bringing it," replied Paul, " and the cream, 
 and everything." 
 
 " Tatiana is his wife," continued Solomine. " She is 
 as trustworthy as he. Until you get used to this life, she 
 will wait on you." 
 
 Marianne threw her cloak upon a leather divan in a 
 corner. 
 
 '' Call me Marianne. I do not care to be called ' Miss.' 
 As for a servant, I do not need one. I have not come here 
 tc be waited on. Do not look at my gown ; I have no 
 ot'ierhere. But it shall be changed." 
 
 Her dress of ladies' cloth was very simple, but it had 
 been cut by a dressmaker in St. Petersburg. It fitted her 
 figure and shoulders elegantly. It was, in fact, in the 
 height of fashion. 
 
 " P ;haw ! she won't be your servant. She will be youi 
 ' help ' — in the American fashion. But that need not pre 
 
 14 
 
2 10 VIRCm SOIL. 
 
 vent your taking a cup of tea. It is very early,, but you 
 both must be tired out. I will go to my work, now ; I will 
 see you again later. If you have need of anything at all. 
 ask Paul and Tatiana for it." 
 
 Marianne held out both her hands to him with a quick 
 gesture. 
 
 " How can I thank you ? " she said, gazing at him ten- 
 derly. 
 
 Solomine patted her hand gently. 
 
 " I might tell >ou that I don't deserve your thanks — and 
 I should tell the truth. But I much prefer to tell you how 
 much pleasure your thanks give me. But I must really 
 leave you ; I shall see you again soon. Come, Paul ! " 
 
 Marianne and Neshdanof were alone. 
 
 She moved toward him, and looked at him as she had 
 looked at Solomine, only with a far happier, tenderer, and 
 brighter look. 
 
 " Oh, my friend," she said, " we are beginning a new life. 
 At last ! At last ! You cannot think how lovely, how 
 charming this humble room seems to me, compared with 
 that detestable palace. Speak ! are you happy ? " 
 
 " I am happy, Marianne, because I am beginning this 
 new life with you. You will be my guiding star, my help, 
 my strength ! " 
 
 " Dear Alexis ! But I must put myself to rights a little. 
 I will run into my room. Wait here for me. I will be 
 back in a moment." 
 
 Marianne went into the adjoining room, closed the door 
 behind her, then, a moment after, half opened it, and put 
 her head through the opening. 
 
 " How kind this Solomine is ! " she said. 
 
 Then she disappeared again, and the key was heard turn- 
 ing in the lock. 
 
 Neshdanof went to the window, looked into the garden, 
 and, without knowing why, his eyes fastened themselves 
 upon an old, stunted apple-tree. 
 
 He shook himself, stretched a little, opened his traveling- 
 bag, and without taking anything out began to dream. 
 
 At the end of a quarter of an hour Marianne reap- 
 peared, gay, bright, full of spirits, the color on her cheeks 
 
VIRGIN SOIL, 211 
 
 revived by fresh water, and some moments after, Tatiana, 
 Paul's wife, brought in the samovar, the tea things, rolls, 
 and cream. 
 
 Tatiana was a perfect contrast to the figure of her 
 Bohemian of a husband. She was a veritable Russian 
 housewife, solidly built, fair, fresh, bare-headed, with a great 
 tress tightly fastened about a horn comb ; her features were a 
 little coarse, but pleasant ; her eyes gray, kindly and frank. 
 She was clad in a calico dress, faded but in good condition ; 
 her hands, though rather large, were neat and hand- 
 some. 
 
 She bowed quietly, said in a strong, clear voice, without 
 a drawl : 
 
 " I wish you all happiness," and then began to set out 
 the samovar, the cups, and the rest. 
 
 Marianne went up to her. 
 
 " Let me help you, Tatiana," said she ; " hand me a nap- 
 kin." 
 
 " It's nothing at all, miss. We are used to this work. 
 Vassili 'Fedoitch told me if you wanted anything done, 
 just give the order and we will do it." 
 
 " Tatiana, don't call me miss, please. I am dressed like 
 the aristocracy, but I — I am entirely — " 
 
 Marianne, disturbed by Tatiana's persistent gaze, inter- 
 rupted her. 
 
 " What are you then ? " asked Tatiana in her calm tone. 
 
 " Of course I am in reality noble, but I wish to put aside 
 all that and to become a woman of the people." 
 
 " Ah ! yes ; now I understand. Then you are one of 
 those who wish to be simplified. There are a great many 
 of them now." 
 
 " What did you say, Tatiana ? To be simplified ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it is only a way of expressing what you now wish 
 to do. To live entirely as the working classes live, to be 
 simplified ! It is indeed a good work — teaching the people 
 to reason. But it is not easy ; no, indeed. May God give 
 you good speed ! " 
 
 " To be simplified ! " repeated Marianne. " Only hear, 
 Alexis ; at this very moment we are being simplified ! " 
 
 Neshdanof began to laugh, also repeating " simplified." 
 
212 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " And who is this ? Your husband or your brother ? " 
 asked Tatiana, carefully rinsing the cups with her large, 
 skillful hands, looking with a half caressing half jesting 
 smile now at Neshdanof, now at Marianne. 
 
 " No," replied Marianne. " He is neither my husband 
 nor my brother." 
 
 Tatiana raised her head. 
 
 " Ah ! you are living in free love ; that, too, is very 
 common now. In other days it was more often known 
 among the Old Believers, the Raskolniks ; but in these days 
 there are a great many who do the same thing. If God 
 only gives you his blessing, and you live in content and mu- 
 tual confidence, no need of priests in that case. One finds 
 many such instances in our factory, and they are none the 
 worse." 
 
 " What pretty expressions you use, Tatiana ; ' free 
 love ' — that pleases me much. By the way, Tatiana, I 
 have something to ask you. I want to make or to buy a 
 dress like yours, or even plainer ; shoes, stockings, and a 
 fichu exactly like yours. I have all the money I rieed." 
 
 " Good, that can easily be done, miss ; don't be vexed. 
 I will not say it again, I will not call you miss again, but 
 what shall I call you ? " 
 
 " Marianne." 
 
 " And your father's first name ? " 
 
 " What can be the necessity for my father's first name ? 
 Call me simply Marianne. I call you Tatiana." 
 
 " It is not at all the same thing. Tell me his name." 
 
 " If you insist, my father's name was Vikenti (Vincent), 
 and yours ? " 
 
 " Mine ? Ossip." 
 
 " Very well, I shall call you Tatiana Ossipovna.'' 
 
 " And I shall call you Marianne Vikentievna ; that will 
 do very well." 
 
 " You will take your tea with us, Tatiana Ossipovna ? " 
 
 " For the first day T will not refuse, Marianne Viken- 
 tievna ; only a small cup." 
 
 " Will you be seated, Tatiana Ossipovna ? " 
 
 " I wish you well, Marianne Vikentievna." 
 
 Tatiana sat down, and took her tea in the fashion of 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 213 
 
 Russian people ; turning constantly between her fingers a 
 small piece of sugar, biting it in little bits while winking 
 the eye on the side she was nibbling. Marianne entered 
 into conversation with her. Tatiana answered without the 
 least embarrassment, asking questions in her turn and talk- 
 ing freely. She spoke of Solomine almost as if he were a 
 god, placing her husband next to Solomine. But factory 
 life wore on him. 
 
 " This is not a city," said she, " nor is it a village. But 
 for Monsieur Solomine I would not stay here one hour." 
 
 Marianne listened attentively to all she had to say. 
 Neshdanof, seated a little apart watching his companion, 
 was not surprised at her interest. To Marianne it was all 
 new ; as for himself, he seemed to have seen hundreds like 
 Tatiana, and to have talked with them a hundred times. 
 
 " Listen, Tatiana Ossipovna," said Marianne ; "at this mo- 
 ment you think we wish to instruct the people ; not at all, 
 we wish to serve them." 
 
 " How is that, to serve them ? Teaching them ought to 
 be your only service. Look at me, for instance : when I was 
 married, I could neithel: read nor write ; now, I can do 
 both, thanks to Vassili Fedotitch ! It was not he who 
 taught me, but he paid a good old man who taught me 
 everything, and I am young still, though I am so big." 
 
 Marianne was silent for a moment. 
 
 " I should like," she said, " to learn some trade, but we 
 will talk more about this at another time. I am a very 
 poor seamstress. If I could only learn something of cook- 
 ing I could become a cook." 
 
 Tatiana was amazed. 
 
 " A cook ! what for ? Cooks live with the rich, with 
 merchants, and the poor cook for themselves. In a co-op- 
 erative association, perhaps, among the workmen — but ah ! 
 there cannot be a more pitiful trade." 
 
 " And even though I might be in the house of a rich 
 man, I might come in contact with the poor. If not, where 
 could I go to find them ? I should not always meet with 
 such an opportunity as that of to-day, with you." 
 
 Tatiana replaced the cup in the saucer, turning it upside 
 down. 
 
214 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 "That is not an easy matter to decide," she said at last 
 smiling ; " one cannot twist it around one's finger like a bit 
 of thread ; all I know myself I will show you, but I am 
 not very skillful ; talk to my husband about it. With him, 
 it is quite another matter ; he reads all sorts of books, and 
 he will explain everything to you as clearly as possible." 
 
 While looking at Marianne she saw she was rolling a ci- 
 ■ garette. 
 
 " Pardon me, Marianne Vikentievna," she said ; " but if 
 you really wish to be simplified, you must have done with 
 all that," pointing to the cigarette ; "because, in these oc- 
 cupations, especially in that of a cook, it is never allowed, 
 and everybody will know immediately that you are a 
 ' demoiselle.' " Marianne threw her cigarette out of the 
 window. 
 
 " I will not smoke any more, it is a habit one can readily 
 throw aside. If women among the people never smoke, then 
 it is better for me not to do so." 
 
 " You are quite right ; men indulge in such foolish 
 habits ; but women in our class — never ! See ! there is 
 Mr. Solomine, I hear his step ; ask him, he will make every- 
 thing clear." 
 
 Mr. Solomine's voice was heard at the door. 
 
 " Can I come in ? " 
 
 " Come in ! come in ! " called out Marianne. 
 
 " This is an English habit that I have acquired," said 
 Solomine as he came in. " Well, how is everything going on ? 
 haven't you had time to feel bored and wearied yet ? You 
 are taking your tea with Tatiana ? Now that is thoroughly 
 sensible. My master's arrival to-day is very inconvenient, 
 and he will stay to dine with us ; but what can I do ? he is 
 my master." 
 
 " Who is he ? " asked Neshdanof, coming out of his 
 corner. 
 
 " A man, exactly like anybody else. He is not as innocent 
 as a babe unborn, as they say ; but not bad, on the whole. 
 With me he is as smooth as possible. He can't get along 
 without me. But I have come to tell you that we shall not 
 probably see each other again to-day. Your dinner will be 
 brought to you ; do not show yourselves, especially in the 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 2IS 
 
 yard. Do you think, Marianne, that the Sipiagins will make 
 any search for you^that they will pursue you ? " 
 
 " I think not," said Marianne. 
 
 " And I am fully persuaded that they will," said Nesh- 
 danof. 
 
 " Never mind," said Solomine ; " in any case, however, it 
 is well to be prudent at first. Afterward everything will 
 take care of itself." 
 
 "Yes, but listen," answered Neshdanof ; "Markclof 
 ought to know where to find me, we must notify him." 
 
 " Why so ? " 
 
 " It is absolutely necessary — he ought always to know 
 where I am. I have promised him. He will not tell any- 
 thing." 
 
 " Very well, we will send him word by Paul." 
 
 "And my clothes will be ready ? " asked Neshdanof. 
 
 " The costume ? why then this is to be a veritable mas- 
 querade — not expensive, thank God ! Come, Tatiana, let 
 us go." 
 
 Marianne and Neshdanof were once more left alone. 
 
XXVIII. 
 
 THEY began as at first by clasping tightly each other's 
 hands — then Marianne cried : 
 
 "Wait, I am going to help you to arrange your room," 
 and she immediately began unpacking the traveling-bag 
 and valise. 
 
 Neshdanof wanted to help her, but she declared she 
 would do all that by herself, " because it was very neces- 
 sary for her to accustom herself to be of service ; " and, in 
 fact, she herself hung up everything on some nails which she 
 had found in the table drawer and which she hammered 
 into the wall, using the back of a brush as a hammer ; she 
 also put away the linen in a little old commode standing 
 between the two windows. 
 
 " What is this ? " she said suddenly. " A revolver ? Is 
 it loaded ? Why do you have a revolver ? " 
 
 " It is not loaded — but give it to me all the same. You 
 ask me why ? In our trade nobody stirs out without one ! " 
 
 She laughed and returned to her work, shaking each 
 article of clothing, and beating it with the palm of her 
 hand. She even placed under the sofa two pairs of boots ; 
 some books, a package of papers, and the famous book of 
 manuscript poems were solemnly ranged on a corner table 
 with three legs, which she called the writing and working 
 table, to distinguish it from the other, which, being round, 
 she said was an eating and tea table. 
 
 This done she took with both hands the book contain- 
 ing the verses, raised it to a level with her eyes, and look- 
 ing at Neshdanof over the edge, she said smiling : 
 
 " We will read all this together, whenever our different 
 occupations give us any leisure, won't we ? " 
 
 " Give me the book, I am going to throw it into the 
 fire ! " cried Neshdanof ; " it is fit for nothing ^Ise ! " 
 
 216 
 
VIRGIN son.. 
 
 217 
 
 " Why then did you bring it away with you ? No, no, 
 I will not let you burn it ; however, they say that poets are 
 always threatening to bum their works, but they never do 
 it. In any case I shall take care of it myself, it will be 
 much safer." 
 
 Neshdanof wished to protest against this, but Marianne 
 ran into her chamber with the book and returned with 
 empty hands. She seated herself near Neshdanof, but in 
 a moment arose saying : 
 
 " You have not yet seen my chamber ; do you not want 
 to see it ? It is no worse than yours. Come, I will show 
 it to you." 
 
 Neshdanof rose also and followed Marianne. Her 
 chamber was a trifle smaller than his, but the furniture was 
 better and more modern ; in the window there was a glass 
 vase of flowers, and in the comer an iron bedstead. 
 
 " See how good Solomine is ! " she cried ; " but we must 
 not be spoiled by it ; we shall not often have such a lodg- 
 ing. Do you know what would be wise ? To arrange not to 
 separate at all, but to find a place for us both. That 
 might be difficult," she added, after an instant ; " however, 
 we will see. You have at least no idea of returning to 
 St. Petersburg ? " 
 
 " What should I do in St. Petersburg ? Attend the course 
 at the University, and give lessons — to what end ? " 
 
 " Let us see what Solomine will say ; he knows better 
 than we the wisest thing for us to do, and the wisest way of 
 doing it." 
 
 They returned to the first room and again sat down near 
 each other. They praised Solomine, Tatiana, and Paul ; 
 they talked of Sipiagin, of their past life, which all at once 
 seemed to disappear in the distance, as if enveloped in a 
 fog ; they pressed each other's hands and exchanged radi- 
 ant smiles ; then they spoke of the new class into which they 
 were determined to penetrate, and of how to do it without 
 exciting mistrust. 
 
 Neshdanof was convinced that the less they thought of 
 all that the better they would succeed. 
 
 " No doubt ! " exclaimed Marianne ; " since we wish to 
 be 'simplified,' as Tatiana says." 
 
2i8 r/A'CIX SOIL. 
 
 "Not just that," began Neshdanof ; "I meant to say 
 that we must not make too much effort." 
 
 Marianne interrupted him with a burst of laughter. 
 
 " I was thinking of what I have sometimes said, Alexis, 
 that we are both ' simplified.' " 
 
 Neshdanof laughed too, repeating " simplified," and then 
 became thoughtful, while Marianne in her turn also became 
 thoughtful. 
 
 " Alexis ! " said she. 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 "It seems to me that we are a little embarrassed. JVou- 
 veaux maries " (she said these two words in French) " must 
 experience something like this the first day of their wedding 
 journey. They are happy, very happy, but at the same 
 time they are a little embarrassed." 
 
 Neshdanof smiled in a constrained manner. 
 
 "' JVouveaux maries.' You know very well, Marianne, 
 that is not our case." 
 
 Marianne arose, and standing before Neshdanof, — " That 
 depends upon you," said she. 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " Alexis, listen ! When you tell me, on the word of a 
 man of honor — and I shall believe you, for I know you are 
 a man of honor — when you tell me that you love me with 
 that love — that love which binds together for life — I am 
 yours." 
 
 Neshdanof colored, and slightly turning away, said : 
 
 "When I say that to you — " 
 
 " Yes, when you say that to me. But you do not say it 
 to me now. Oh, yes, Alexis, you are really a man of 
 honor ! Now, let us talk of more serious matters." 
 
 " But, Marianne, do I not love you ? " 
 
 " I know it, and I will wait ; but your writing-table is 
 not yet in order. Stop ! there is something wrapped up in 
 here, something hard." 
 
 Neshdanof sprang from his chair. 
 
 " Let it be, Marianne ! I beg of you do not touch it ! " 
 
 Marianne glanced at him over her shoulder ; raising hei 
 eyebrows with astonishment. 
 
 " Is it a secret — you have a secret ? " 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 219 
 
 "Yes, yes," stammered Neshdanof, and excessively dis- 
 turbed, he added, as an explanation, " It is a portrait." 
 
 The word escaped in spite of himself. 
 
 The paper that Marianne held in her hands contained 
 the portrait given to the young man by Markelof. 
 
 " A portrait,'' said she slowly, " of a woman ? " 
 
 She held out to him the little package ; but he took it so 
 awkwardly that it almost fell to the floor and the wrapper 
 opened. 
 
 " But it is — it is my own portrait — then, being mine, I 
 have the right to take it ! " 
 
 She took it from his hands, saying : 
 
 " Was it you who drew it ? " 
 
 " No, it was not I." 
 
 " Who then ? Markelof ? " 
 
 " You have guessed right. It was he." 
 
 " How happened you to have it ? " 
 
 " He made me a present of it." 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 Neshdanof told her under what circumstances it had 
 been given him. 
 
 While he was talking, Marianne glanced attentively at 
 him and at the portrait, and the young people both had a 
 vague feeling that if he had been in this room he would 
 have had the right. But neither Marianne nor Neshdanof 
 uttered this thought aloud, perhaps because each read it in 
 the other's mind. Marianne gently wrapped up the por- 
 trait and replaced it on the table. 
 
 " He was a good fellow," she said softly. " Where is 
 he now ? " 
 
 " Where is he ? at home, of course — at his own house. 
 I shall go to see him to-morrow, or the day after, for some 
 books and pamphlets he meant to give me, but which he 
 forgot when I came away." 
 
 " Do you really believe, Alexis, that in giving you this 
 portrait, he meant to renounce everything, absolutely every- 
 thing ? " 
 
 "It seemed so to me." 
 
 " And yet you expect to find him at home ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
120 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " Ah ! " and Marianne dropped her eyes and let her arms 
 faJl at her side. 
 
 " There is Tatiana bringing us our dinner," she ex- 
 claimed. " What an excellent woman she is." 
 
 Tatiana appeared, carrying the cloth, napkins, plates, and 
 dishes. While setting the table, she told what had been 
 going on at the factory. 
 
 " The master has arrived from Moscow, by rail, and has 
 rushed through the different floors like a lunatic ; he un- 
 derstands nothing about it all ; but it is all for effect, for 
 the look of the thing. He wished to find fault, but Solo- 
 mine put a stop to that immediately. ' I will leave at 
 once,' he told the master, who soon lowered his crest. 
 Now they are dining together. The master has brought 
 a companion with him, and he admires everything. He 
 must be a man of money, he is silent nearly all the 
 time, only shaking his head. A stout man, a very stout 
 man, a regular big nob from Moscow. That is a first- 
 rate proverb, ' Moscow is the hub of this universe, every- 
 thing turns on it.' " 
 
 " How you notice everything ! " exclaimed Marianne. 
 
 " Well, yes, I generally keep my eyes open," answered 
 Tatiana. " There, your dinner is ready. Eat it with a 
 good appetite. I am going to sit down and look at 
 you." 
 
 The young people seated themselves at the table ; 
 Tatiana sat down in the embrasure of the window, resting 
 her cheek on the palm of her hand. 
 
 " I am looking at you," she said. " How young and help- 
 less you are — you two ! It is pleasant to see you, so pleas- 
 ant that it almost makes my heart ache ! Ah, my pretty 
 pigeons ! You have taken upon yourselves a burden much 
 too heavy for your shoulders ! It is young creatures like 
 you whom the people of the czar like to stick into prison." 
 
 " Bah ! my good woman, don't trouble yourself about 
 us,'' answered Neshdanof. " You know the proverb, 'Who 
 calls himself a mushroom must go to the basket.' " 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but the baskets nowadays are very nar- 
 row, and one does not come out of them just in the way 
 one would like best." 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 22! 
 
 " Ha^ e you any children ? " asked Marianne, in ordei 
 to change the subject. 
 
 " I have one boy, who already goes to school. I had a 
 daughter, but I have lost her — poor little thing — by an ac- 
 cident : she fell under a wheel — oh ! if she had only died 
 instantly ! But no, she suffered a long, long time. From 
 tliat moment I was softened ; before, I had been hard, 
 hard as a pine knot." 
 
 " Why ? did you not love your husband then ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; that is one thing, that is all very well for a 
 young girl. You love yours, do you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, I love him." 
 
 " You love him very much ? " 
 
 " Very much." 
 
 " Is he very — " Tatiana looked first at Neshdanof, 
 then at Marianne, and did not finish. For the second 
 time Marianne turned the conversation. She told Tati- 
 ana she had given up smoking, for which she praised her 
 highly. Then she began again to talk of her costume, 
 reminding Tatiana of her promise to teach her a little 
 about cooking. 
 
 " And then," she added, " I have still something else to 
 ask of you : could you find me some coarse, unbleached 
 thread ? I want to knit some stockings, perfectly plain." 
 
 Tatiana promised that all this should be done, cleared 
 off the table, and left the room with her usual serene, self- 
 reliant bearing. 
 
 " And now what are we going to do ? " said Marianne to 
 her companion, and, without waiting for his answer, " Lis- 
 ten ; as our serious work does not begin until to-morrow, 
 why cannot we devote this evening to literature ? Let us 
 read your poems. I shall be a harsh critic." 
 
 Neshdanof objected for some time ; at last he yielded to 
 her persuasions, and began to read aloud from his little 
 book. 
 
 Marianne seated herself near him, looking full in his 
 face while he was reading. She was indeed a severe judge, 
 as she had said. A great many of the poems displeased 
 her ; she preferred the short pieces, purely lyric, without 
 any moral at the end. 
 
222 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Neshdanof did not read very well : he dared not declaim 
 boldly, and wishing at the same time to avoid stiffness, his 
 delivery was neither flesh nor fish. 
 
 Marianne interrupted him suddenly to ask if he was fa- 
 miliar with some verses of Dobrolioubof beginning with these 
 words, "The thought of death saddens me but little,"* and 
 she repeated it from beginning to end — not much better 
 than Neshdanof, but in a somewhat childish fashion. Nesh- 
 danof made the remark that this poetry was bitter and 
 melancholy to the last degree ; then he added that he 
 (Neshdanof) would never have written it, because he need 
 not fear that tears would be shed upon his grave. There 
 was no one to shed them. " They will be shed for you if 
 I survive you," said Marianne slowly. 
 
 She raised her eyes to the ceiling, remained silent for a 
 moment, then murmured, as if talking to herself : 
 
 " How could he take my portrait from memory ? " 
 
 Neshdanof turned quickly toward her. " Yes, from 
 memory." 
 
 Marianne was astonished to hear an answer. She had 
 no idea that she had asked this question aloud. 
 
 " It is most extraordinary," she continued in the same 
 low, dreamy tone, " for he really has no talent for painting : 
 what was I saying ? " She added aloud, " Ah, yes ; it was 
 about those lines of Dobrolioubof. One ought to make 
 verses like Pouchkine, or like these verses of Dobrolioubof. 
 It "is not poetry, but it is something quite as good." 
 
 " And verses like mine," said Neshdanof, " should not 
 be written at all, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Verses like yours ? Oh ! they please your friends, not 
 
 * " The thought of death saddens me but little ; what my sick spirit 
 dreads is, that death may play some poor joke upon me. 
 
 " I fear lest over my cold body some one may shed hot tears ; lest, 
 with inappropriate zeal, some one may place flowers on my coffin. 
 
 " Lest, from disinterested motives, a crowd of friends may walk 
 behind me, and lest, when bnried beneath the earth, I become an 
 object of sympathy. 
 
 " Lest all that I have longed for so ardently, and so vainly wished 
 for all my life, may come and smile upon me with an enchanting 
 smile when I am in my coffin." 
 
 (Dobrolioubof, Complete IVorks, Vol. IV., p. 615.) 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 223 
 
 because they are especially good, but because you are a 
 good man and they are like you." 
 
 Neshdanof smiled saying, " Let us drop them and me 
 too." Marianne gave him a little tap on his hand, telling 
 him he was very naughty. A moment after she said " she 
 was very tired and should go to sleep." 
 
 " By the way, you know," added she, shaking her short, 
 thick hair, " I have one hundred and thirty-seven rubles.; 
 how much have you ? " 
 
 " I have ninety-eight." 
 
 " Oh ! we are rich — for people who are ' simplified ' ! 
 Good-by till to-morrow ! " 
 
 She left the room : but after a few moments, her door 
 was softly opened and through the crack her voice said 
 " Good night," then, more softly, " Good night." 
 
 And the key turned in the lock. Neshdanof threw him- 
 self on the sofa hiding his face in his hands ; then sud- 
 denly he rose, walked toward her door, and knocked. 
 
 " What is it ? " called Marianne. 
 
 " I do not say until to-morrow, Marianne, but to-tnor- 
 raw!" 
 
 " To-morrow," gently answered the voice. 
 
XXIX. 
 
 THE next day very early Neshdanol' knocked again 
 at Marianne's door. " It is I ! " he answered to the 
 question of " Who is there ? " " Can you come ? " 
 
 " Wait a moment — directly." 
 
 She came out, and uttered an exclamation of surprise. 
 At first she had not recognized him. He wore a caftan 
 of yellowish nankeen, very short- waisted, with a double row 
 of small buttons ; his hair was arranged in Russian fashion 
 parted in the middle ; he had a blue handkerchief tied 
 about his neck ; he held in his hand a cap of which the 
 visor was broken', and on his feet were unblacked boots of 
 bullock skin. 
 
 " Good gracious ! how ugly you are ! " exclaimed Mari- 
 anne—then suddenly throwing her arms about his neck, 
 she kissed him warmly. " But why have you chosen such 
 a costume ? you look like a ^ petit bourgeois ' from the 
 city, or a peddler, or a retired servant. Why do you wear 
 this caftan, instead of a workman's jacket, or a simple 
 peasant's armiak ? " 
 
 " Precisely," began Neshdanof, who in this costume 
 had just the air of a small shopkeeper ; he felt it too, and 
 in his heart was vexed, disturbed, so much so, that he 
 moved his hands mechanically over his dress as if to brush 
 himself. 
 
 " Paul assured me that in a jacket or armiak I should 
 be at once recognized ; while this costume, he said, they 
 would swear I had worn all my life. That is not very flat- 
 tering to my vanity, by the way." 
 
 " Then you are going to begin at once ? " inquired Mari- 
 anne hastily. 
 
 " Yes, I'm going to try, though in thinking it over — " 
 
 " How happy you are ! " interrupted Marianne. 
 
 224 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 225 
 
 " This Paul here is a most extraordinary man," continued 
 Neshdanof ; " he knows everything, he has eyes which 
 search you through — then, suddenly, there is a look in his 
 face as if everything passed by him without his noticing 
 anything. He is very obliging — and at the same time is a 
 bit of a scoffer. He has brought me some pamphlets from 
 Markelof, whom he knows, and whom he calls familiarly 
 Serge Michaelovitch. As for Solomine, he is perfectly de- 
 voted to him, he would go through fire and water for him." 
 
 " And Tatiana would too," said Marianne. " Why is 
 every one so devoted to him ? " 
 
 Neshdanof made no reply. 
 
 " What pamphlets did Paul bring you ? " asked Mari- 
 anne. 
 
 " Oh, only the usual ones. ' The Story of Four Broth- 
 ers,' and then — in short, only those that are best known ; 
 however, these are much the best." 
 
 Marianne looked about uneasily. 
 
 " Where can Tatiana be ? She promised to be here very 
 early." 
 
 " And here she is," said Tatiana, coming into the room 
 with a bundle in her hand. As she reached the door, she 
 had heard Marianne's exclamation. " You will have plenty 
 of time. Was it not a matter of business ? " 
 
 Marianne hurried to meet her. 
 
 " You have brought it ? " 
 
 Tatiana tapped the bundle with her hand saying : 
 
 " Everything is here — all ready ; you have nothing to do 
 but to try it on ; after that you can show yourself, and look 
 your prettiest." 
 
 " Oh, my good Tatiana, come quickly," and Marianne 
 dragged her into her chamber. 
 
 Left alone, Neshdanof walked twice about the room 
 with a heavy dragging step, which he fancied, no one knows 
 why, was the step of a little shopkeeper ; he smelled his 
 sleeve, then the inside of his cap, and made a grimace ; he 
 looked at himself in a small glass against the wall by the 
 window, and shook his head ; decidedly he was not hand- 
 some. 
 
 " After all, so much the better," he thought. 
 
 IS 
 
226 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Then he selected some pamphlets, thrust them into his 
 pocket, pronouncing at the same time some words, after the 
 fashion of the working classes, somewhat like this for in- 
 stance, " Ho, you fellow, there ! what is the row ? " 
 
 " It seems to me it is something like that ; but bah ! 
 why need I play the actor ? My accoutrement is quite 
 enough." 
 
 Neshdanof reminded himself at this moment of the Gc.i- 
 man exile, who wanted to escape through Russia, though 
 he spoke Russ very badly ; he bought in some country 
 town a "merchant's cap, bordered with catskin, and he had 
 been everywhere taken for a merchant, and had thus suc- 
 ceeded in crossing the frontier. At this moment Solomine 
 entered. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " he said ; " you are all equipped." 
 
 " It is still very early, but I suppose you wish to accus- 
 tom yourself to your costume. All very well, but you will 
 be obliged to wait, for my master has not yet gone ; he is 
 still asleep." 
 
 " I will go out later," answered Neshdanof ; " I am going 
 to take a walk about the environs, while I am waiting for 
 more precise instructions." 
 
 " That is right ; only listen, Alexis — I shall call you sim- 
 ply Alexis, shall I ? " 
 
 " Alexis, yes, very well ; ' Lixei ' * if you wish," added 
 Neshdanof laughing. 
 
 " No, no ; we must not season too highly. What is the 
 use ? Listen : Good will, they say, is worth more than 
 money. I see you have some pamphlets ; distribute them 
 freely, wherever you will, except in the factory ; not there ! " 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because, first, it would be dangerous for you ; secondly, 
 I have promised my master that it should not be done here, 
 the factory really belongs to him ; thirdly, there are already 
 some things started among us — schools, for instance — and 
 you might spoil all. Do what you will, and as you will, at 
 your own risk. I shall not interfere with you, but do not 
 meddle with my workmen." 
 
 * Popular way of pronouncing Alexis. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 227 
 
 " Prudence is always a very good thing," said Neshdanof 
 with a half sarcastic smile. Solomine smiled broadly, as 
 was his wont. 
 
 '' Precisely, my good Alexis, it is always a most excellent 
 thing. But what do I see ? What have we here ?" 
 
 These last 'exclamations referred to Marianne who, in a 
 spotted calico dress, which had evidently been often washed, 
 with a little yellow fichu over her shoulders, and a red 
 handkerchief as a headdress, had just appeared at her 
 chamber door. Tatiana, who was behind, was looking at 
 her with amusement. 
 
 Marianne looked fresh and young in this simple costume, 
 which was much more becoming to her than Neshdanof's 
 long caftan was to him. 
 
 " Vassili Fedoitch, I beg of you, do not laugh at me," 
 said Marianne, in a pleading tone, coloring as red as a rose. 
 
 " Oh, look at them ! See our couple," cried Tatiana 
 clapping her hands. " Only, my fine fellow, my little pigeon, 
 do not be vexed — but listen to me. You are very nice, 
 there is no doubt of it ; but by the side of my little queen 
 you do not cut a very fine figure." 
 
 " The truth is," said Neshdanof to himself, " she is 
 charming ! How I love her ! " 
 
 " Here, look ! " continued Tatiana ; " she has exchanged 
 rings with me ; she has given me her gold ring, and I have 
 given her my silver one." 
 
 " The girls among the lower classes do not have gold 
 rings," said Marianne. 
 
 Tatiana sighed. " I will keep it for you, my little dove ; 
 make yourself easy." 
 
 " Come seat yourselves, both of you," said Solomine, 
 who during all this had not ceased to watch Marianne with 
 his head bent. " In other days, you may remember, it was 
 the custom to seat oneself before beginning a journey, and 
 you both are entering upon a long and difficult road." 
 
 Marianne, still blushing, sat down ; Neshdanof did the 
 same ; then Solomine ; Tatiana herself sat down on a large 
 block of wood which stood upright. 
 
 Solomine looked attentively at all of them. 
 
 " Let us step back and see them better." 
 
12 8 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " How comfortably we are seated," he added, half clos- 
 ing his eyes ; then all at once he burst into a laugh, but 
 such a good, honest laugh that, so far from wounding them, 
 it made all bright and gay. 
 
 But Neshdanof rose quickly. "I'm going," he said, 
 " this very moment ; for to tell the truth, all this, though 
 very pretty, is too much like a farce with continual 
 change of dress." 
 
 " Make yourself easy," he said, turning toward Solo- 
 mine, " your factory shall not be interfered with. I am 
 going to wander about the suburbs, and when I return I 
 will tell you — and you, Marianne— all my adventures, that 
 is, if I have anything to relate. Give me your hand and 
 wish me good luck." 
 
 " If you were to take a little tea before you go ? " sug- 
 gested Tatiana. 
 
 " Oh, no ; why lose time for that ? If I should want it I 
 can go to a tavern." 
 
 Tatiana shook her head, saying, " Nowadays on our 
 highways there are as many taverns as there are fleas in a 
 sheep's wool. There are large villages everywhere, and 
 village means tavern." 
 
 " Good-by all," said Neshdanof, correcting himself, as 
 he remembered the part he was playing. But he had not 
 yet reached the door when he saw Paul start up under his 
 nose out of the darkness of the hall. He presented him 
 with a long, thin, pilgrim's staff, from which the bark was 
 cut spirally its whole length. 
 
 " Pray take this, Alexis Dimitritch," he said, " to use on 
 the road, and the farther you hold it from you the more it 
 will be the right thing." 
 
 Neshdanof took the staff without saying anything and 
 went out. Paul followed him. Tatiana was also going 
 away, but Marianne came up to detain her. 
 
 " Stay, Tatiana, I really have need of you." 
 
 " I'm coming back directly ; I am only going for the 
 samovar. Your companion has gone away without taking 
 any tea ; he must be in a great hurry, but that is no reason 
 you should fast. You'll have plenty of time." 
 
 Tatiana went out. Solomine rose and went to the other 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 229 
 
 end of the room, when at last Marianne turned toward 
 him, somewhat astonished at his silence. She saw on his 
 face, in his eyes, which were fixed upon her, an expression 
 she had never remarked in him before — an expression of 
 uneasiness, of interrogation, almost of curiosity. She was 
 troubled, and colored again, and Solomine, as if ashamed 
 of what he had allowed her to read in his face, began to 
 talk in a louder voice than usual. 
 
 " Come, come, Marianne, this is the beginning ! " 
 
 " The beginning ? What beginning ? See here, I feel 
 very uncomfortable ; Alexis was quite right, we are only 
 playing a farce ! " 
 
 Solomine sat down again on his chair. 
 
 " But — permit me, Marianne, how did you mean to begin ? 
 We haven't got to build barricades with a flag floating over 
 them, and to hurrah for the Republic — and besides, that is 
 not a woman's business. I will tell you what you have to 
 do. To-day you will see some Loukerie or other, and you 
 will teach her — never mind what — something good ; and it 
 will be no easy task, for a Loukerie is not very bright, and 
 she disturbs you. She's sure there is no need of her know- 
 ing what you wish to teach her ; then, at the end of two or 
 three weeks you will make another attempt with another — 
 Loukerie ; and, in the interval, you will wash a child's 
 face, or you will teach it the alphabet, or you will give 
 some medicine to a sick person. This is the real beginning." 
 
 " But the Sisters of Charity do just that. If it's as you 
 say, what is the good of all this ? " And she pointed to her 
 dress and all that was about her. " I had dreamt of better 
 things." 
 
 " You would like to make a sacrifice of yourself ? " 
 
 Marianne's eyes lighted up. 
 
 " Yes, yes, indeed ! " 
 
 " And Neshdanof ? " 
 
 Marianne shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Neshdanof ? Ah, well ; we shall go together — or I 
 shall go alone." 
 
 Solomine looked fixedly at Marianne. 
 
 " Listen to me ! " said he ; " don't be offended at my 
 plain words ; but, from my point of view, washing and 
 
230 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 combing a scurfy little child is a sacrifice — and ' a great 
 sacrifice — of which few people are capable." 
 
 " But I don't refuse to do that." 
 
 " I know it — yes — you are even capable of it. You will 
 do that, while waiting, and perhaps, later, something else." 
 
 " But at first I must get Tatiana to teach me." 
 
 " Certainly ; get her to teach you. You will wash the 
 dishes, you will pluck the chickens — and later, who knows ? 
 You may perhaps save your country." 
 
 " You are making fun of me ? " 
 
 Solomine shook his hea,d gently. 
 
 " No, my good Marianne, believe me, I am not laughing 
 at you ; my words are the simple truth. As the times are 
 now, you Russian women are much more sensible and better 
 than we are." 
 
 Marianne, who had dropped her eyes, raised them. 
 
 " I should like to fulfill your expectation, Solomine, and 
 then die." 
 
 Solomine rose. 
 
 " No ; live, live ! that is the most important thing. By 
 the way, have you no curiosity to know what is going on at 
 your house about your flight ? Perhaps they are trying to 
 find you. You have only to speak to Paul, and he can find 
 everything out in the twinkling of an eye." 
 
 " What an astonishing man Paul is ! " said Marianne sur- 
 prised. 
 
 "Yes, he is rather astonishing. For instance, when 
 you and Alexis are to be married, it is he who will arrange 
 everything with Zossime. You remember, don't you, the 
 priest I have spoken to you about ? but, just now, there is 
 no necessity for that. No ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " No ? Oh, very well ! " 
 
 Solomine drew near to the door which separated the 
 door of Neshdanof 's chamber from that of Marianne. 
 
 "What are you looking at ?" asked Marianne. 
 
 " Can this be locked ? " 
 
 " Yes, it locks," said Marianne in a low voice. 
 
 Solomine came toward her. She still sat with her eyes 
 cast down. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 231 
 
 " Very well, then," he said cheerfully ; " there is no need 
 of knowing what has been resolved upon by the Sipiagins ; 
 this is fully understood." 
 
 Solomine moved as if to go out. 
 
 " Solomine ! " 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Tell me, please, why you, who are always so taciturn, 
 are now so talkative with me ? You do not know how 
 much pleasure it has given nie." 
 
 " Why ? " Solomine took the young girl's soft little hands 
 into his, so large and hard. " Why ? Most probably be- 
 cause I like you so much. Good-by." 
 
 He went out. Marianne stood motionless, watching him 
 as he left the room. After a moment's thought, she went 
 to seek Tatiana, who had not yet brought the samovar. 
 She took, it is true, a cup of tea, but she washed the cups 
 and saucers, plucked the chickens, and even combed the 
 dirty, tangled hair of a little boy. 
 
 At dinner-time, she returned to her own room and had 
 not long to wait for Neshdanof. 
 
 He came in, tired, covered with dust, and threw himself 
 upon the sofa. 
 
 She sat down by his side immediately. 
 
 " Come, come, tell me all about it." 
 
 He answered her in a weak, tired voice : 
 
 " Do you remember these two lines : 
 
 ' It would all be ridiculous 
 If it hadn't been sad?' 
 
 You remember them, don't you ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Very well ; these two lines apply perfectly to my first 
 expedition ; but no, on the whole it is really ridiculous. In 
 the first place, I am convinced that nothing is easier than 
 to play a part ; no one has even thought of suspecting me , 
 but one thing, of which I hadn't thought, is the necessity of 
 getting ready beforehand some story ; otherwise, when 
 people ask you, ' Where do you come from ? ' and ' Whaf 
 are you going to do ? ' you have nothing to say. After all, 
 even that is not really necessary. It is quite e/iough to 
 
232 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 ask a man to take a glass of brandy, and tell him some 
 humbugging story or other." 
 
 "Ah, so that is what you have been doing?" asked 
 Marianne. 
 
 " Yes, as well as I could ; furthermore every one, without 
 exception, is discontented, and not one of them has even 
 the faintest desire to know how to remedy this dissatisfac- 
 tion ; but, as a propagandist, I am not very strong. I have 
 left without saying anything two pamphlets in two huts. 
 I have slipped one into a telega. What will become of 
 them God only knows. I have offered them to four dif- 
 ferent persons. One asked if my pamphlet was a book of 
 devotions, and did not take it ; another declared he did not 
 know how to read, and took it for his children, on account 
 of the picture on the cover ; the third began to say, ' Yes, 
 so it is, so it is.' Then at the moment when I least ex- 
 pected it, he overwhelmed me with insults and refused it 
 as the others had done ; at last the fourth accepted it, and 
 even with warm thanks, but I do not believe he under- 
 stood one single word of all I said to him. A dog bit my 
 foot ; a woman at the door of her hut threatened me with 
 her poker, crying, ' How, you rascal, rubbishing Moscow 
 vagabonds ! won't there ever be an end to you ? ' And then 
 a soldier on unlimited leave of absence chased me, shouting, 
 ' Hold on, my friend, hold on, we'll settle your business ! ' 
 And yet he had just got drunk at my expense." 
 
 " And then ? " 
 
 " And then ? I had on too large a boot, which chafed 
 my foot, and now I am hungry, and my head aches as if 
 it would split from all the brandy and water I've had to 
 take." 
 
 " Have you taken much ? " 
 
 " No, very little, only enough to start them drinking, but I 
 went into six taverns. But I can't bear that drug brandy ! 
 How can our peasants drink it as they do ? It is incon- 
 ceivable ! If it is necessary to drink brandy in order to 
 simplify ourselves, then no, thank you ! " 
 
 " And you say that no one suspected you ? " 
 
 " No one. There was one tavern-keeper, however, a big, 
 pale man with light-colored eyes, who looked at me suspici- 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 233 
 
 ously. I heard him say to his wife, ' Keep your eye on 
 that red-haired fellow — squint ! ' (I never knew before that I 
 squinted.) ' He is a sharper, see how queerly he drinks.' 
 What queerly meant in this connection I do not know, 
 but it evidently was not a compliment. It was somewhat 
 like the movetone (mauvais ton) in Gogol's Revisor ; you re- 
 member it. Perhaps it is because I tried to pour my brandy 
 away under the table without any one's seeing me. Ah ! 
 what hard work it is for an esthetic to bring himself into 
 contact with real Ufe ! " 
 
 " You will succeed better next time," said ■ Marianne, to 
 console him ; " but I'm glad you look upon your first at- 
 tempt from the humorous side. On the whole you have 
 not been bored, have you ? " 
 
 " No, I have even been amused. But I know very 
 well that I shall think it all over again, and that I shall 
 feel very sad and disheartened about it." 
 
 " No, no ; I shall not let you think about it. I will tell 
 you what I have been doing. They are going to bring up 
 dinner ; and I have, in the first place, most beautifully 
 washed the pot in which Tatiana made our cabbage soup. 
 I will tell you all about it, by and by." 
 
 She did as she said. 
 
 Neshdanof, while listening to what she had to say, looked 
 at her all the time so steadily that she kept pausing to give 
 him time to explain why he looked at her so ; but he kept 
 silent. After dinner she proposed that he should let her 
 read aloud something of Spielhagen's, but she had hardly 
 finished the first page when he suddenly rose, came up to 
 her, and fell at her feet. She drew herself up ; he embraced 
 her knees with both arms and burst forth in passionate, 
 mad, desperate words : " He wished to die, he felt that 
 he should soon die." She did not stir, she did not resist, she 
 quietly submitted to his violent embrace ; she looked down 
 at him with a gentle and even caressing expression. 
 
 She placed both her hands upon his head, which he had 
 feverishly buried in the folds of her dress. 
 
 But her very quiet affected him more deeply than any 
 efforts to repel him which she might have made. He arose, 
 and said, " Forgive me, Marianne, for what has passed to- 
 
234 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 day and yesterday. Tell me again that you are willing to 
 wait until I shall be worthy of yccr love — and pardon 
 me." 
 
 " I have given you my word and I cannot break it." 
 
 " Thanks — -good-by." 
 
 He went out ; Marianne shut herself up in her chamber, 
 
XXX. 
 
 A FORTNIGHT afterward, Neshdanof was sitting at 
 his little table writing to his friend Siline by the 
 feeble, dim light of a tallow candle. It was late in ihe 
 night. On the sofa, on the floor, lay different articles of 
 clothing, soiled, and hastily taken off ; a slow, steady rain 
 was beating against the windows, and great puffs of warm air 
 striking at intervals against the roof sounded like deep sighs. 
 
 "My dear Vladimir, I write to you without giving my 
 address, and my letter will be given to a messenger to post 
 from a distant spot, for my presence here is a secret ; to 
 betray this secret would be to ruin another person with 
 myself Let it be enough to say that I have been in a large 
 mill with Marianne for a fortnight. We ran away from the 
 Sipiagins the very day I wrote to you. We have received 
 here the hospitality of a friend whom I shall call Vassili ; he 
 IS in charge of the mill, and is a capital fellow. Our stay 
 here is but temporary. We are waiting for the proper time 
 to act ; it is true that, judging from what is going on, the 
 moment is not near. My dear Vladimir, I am very, very 
 sad. 
 
 "First, there is something I must tell you ; although I ran 
 away with Marianne, we still live as brother and sister. She 
 loves me, and she told me she would be mine — if I ever felt 
 that I had a right to ask it. 
 
 " I do not feel that I have the right, my dear Vladimir ! 
 She believes in me and in my honesty and I shall not unde- 
 ceive her. I know that I have never loved, and (of this I 
 am very sure) that I shall never love any one more than her. 
 But it makes no difference. How could I link forever her 
 destiny with mine ? Join a living being to a corpse, or at 
 least to a half-dead body ? What would my conscience say .? 
 You will answer, that if my passion were the stronger, my 
 
 235 
 
236 VIRGIN- SOIL. 
 
 conscience would keep silence. But, honestly, I'm nothing 
 but a corpse; an honest, well-meaning corpse, if you 
 choose. Now don't say that's only my usual exaggeration. 
 Every word is the truth, the simple truth. Marianne is a 
 \ery earnest nature ; at this moment she has plunged wholly 
 into this work ; she believes in it — and I ! 
 
 " But to leave love, and personal feelings, and all such 
 things. 
 
 "For a fortnight I have been living in the midst of the 
 people, and it would be hard to imagine a duller occupa- 
 tion. Certainly it is my fault, and mine alone. I am not 
 a Slavophil ; I am not one of those who get strength from 
 the people ; I never use them for my own ailments, as if they 
 were a soothing poultice ; no, I want rathei to act upon 
 them ; but how .? 
 
 " How should we proceed } In fixct, when I am with them 
 I can only listen and observe, but if I try to speak, it won't 
 go at all. I remind myself of a bad actor playing too hard 
 a part. A feeling of conscientiousness comes over me at the 
 wrong moment, and then doubt or a wretched instinctive 
 sense of the ridiculous, that I turn against myself. 
 
 "It's all worth less than nothing. I'm disgusted with these 
 old clothes that I've put on, with this whole masquerade, 
 as Vassili calls it. 
 
 "They say we should begin by studying the language of 
 the people, by learning their ways and habits. That is 
 false, a thousand times false. Have faith, believe in what 
 you say, and speak as you please. 
 
 " I had the chance to hear a sort of sermon delivered by 
 a Raskolnik prophet. 
 
 "Heaven knows what a jumble of biblical phrases, quota- 
 tions from books, and popular expressions, not even Russian 
 but Little-Russian, pronouncing / like ts, and z for fi ; and 
 then he kept using the same words over and over again, like 
 a grouse that's calling his mate. ' The spirit has seized me, 
 the spirit has seized me ' — but his eyes were like glowing 
 coals, his voice low and powerful, he clenched his fists, he 
 was made of iron, that man I His hearers did not under- 
 stand a single word, -but what veneration, what enthusiasm I 
 and they followed him. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 237 
 
 " But as for me, when I begin to speak I'm like a criminal 
 who. is begging pardon, '^hy ViOl Xm^xw Raskolnik P Theii 
 science is soon acquired ; but the faith, the faith, where can 
 it be got? Marianne — there is some one who has faith. 
 She's at work as soon as it's daylight ; she spends her time 
 with Tatiana — a good woman, not at all stupid, and who, 
 let me say in parenthesis, pretends that we want to 'sim- 
 plify' ourselves, and says we are 'simplified;' well, she 
 passes her time with this Tatiana ; she's always about and 
 active, running around like an ant. 
 
 "She is delighted that her hands are becoming red and 
 hard, and she is always awaiting the moment of climbing the 
 scaffold if it should be necessary. And as for me, when I 
 try to talk to her about my feelings, I have a sort of 
 feeling of shame ; it seems to me that I am putting my 
 hands on another's property, and then that look ! oh, that 
 terrible look, submissive and humble, as if saying, ' I am 
 yours if you choose — but remember ! and, what is the 
 use ? Is there nothing better and loftier in the world ? ' 
 
 "Which means, in other words, ' Put on a dirty caftan and 
 go among the people ! ' 
 
 "Oh, how I curse my nervousness, my delicate senses, 
 my susceptibility to impressions, my disgust at trifles, all 
 this heritage from an aristocratic father ! What right had 
 he to call me into being, with organs out of harmony with 
 the sphere in which I was fated to live ? To give birth to 
 a bird and throw it into the water ! To beget a man of 
 taste and hurl him into the mire ! Create a democrat, a 
 friend of the people, who is sickened by the mere smell of 
 vodka ! 
 
 "But don't let me go so far as to blame my own father ! 
 For if I'm a democrat it's my fault and not his. 
 
 "Yes, Vladimir, things are going ill. Evil, gloomy ideas 
 haunt me. But, you will ask, is it possible that during this 
 fortnight you haven't come across anything or any person, 
 ignorant, it may be, but loyal and genuine, to bring you 
 consolation ? 
 
 ' ' What answer shall I make t I have, in fact, had some 
 such experience. I have stumbled on a capital fellow, of 
 an excellent and energetic character. But all I could do, 
 
238 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 pamphlets and all, have been absolutely useless. Paul, a 
 workman, in the factory (he is a very bright and intelligent 
 young man, who is Vassili's right hand, and will be foreman 
 in time — I believe I spoke of him above), has a friend, a 
 young man, Elisarius — a pretty name, isn't it ? — a clear- 
 headed fellow, open-hearted, and honest as the day ; well, 
 as soon as we talk together, there seems to be a wall between 
 us ; he looks at me as if he were saying, ' No, no.' 
 
 " There was some one else I met, he belonged to the more 
 violent kind ; 'Now, don't talk so much, sir,' he said ; 'just 
 one word — do you want, yes or no, to give us all the land 
 you own ? ' ' Come, come,' I answered ; ' what makes you 
 think that I'm a proprietor ? ' (I remember saying ' God bless 
 you ' to myself.) ' But if you belong to the people,' he an- 
 swered, ' what's the good of all this stuff you're talking ? 
 Leave me alone, please.' 
 
 "I have noticed one thing: those who like to listen and take 
 the pamphlets without being urged, you may be sure are poor 
 creatures, 'doubled up by wind,' as they say with us. Or 
 else you come across some fine talker, some fellow with a 
 scrap of education, whose whole learning consists in using 
 continually one and the same word, his favorite word. One 
 of them- annoyed me terribly with the word 'pruduction.' 
 To everything I said he answered, ' Oh, yes, it's the ' pru- 
 duction.' It was frightful ! One thing more : do you re- 
 member a long time ago there used to be a good deal said 
 about men who were de trop, of the Hamlets.? Well, only 
 think of it, there are just such people among the peasants, 
 only of course, with a peculiar color of their own. Most 
 of them have an unhealthy complexion. They are rather 
 interesting people, moreover, who are always glad to listen 
 to you ; but as for action, they are not worth a kopeck, they 
 are just like the Hamlets of former days. 
 
 ' ' What can we do, then ? Establish a secret printing-press ? 
 But what is the use ? There are plenty of pamphlets ; we 
 have some which tell the peasant, ' Make the sign of the 
 cross and grasp your ax I ' and nothing else. Write novels 
 on the subject, which shall be drawn from actual models .? 
 Perhaps no one would print them. Must we really take an 
 ax ? But against whom ? With whom ? Why ? That a 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 239 
 
 government soldier may shoot you down with a government 
 muslcet? But that would only be a complicated form of 
 suicide. If I'd got to that point, I'd ratiierkill myself with 
 my own hands. 1 could at least choose the time and man- 
 ner and place at which to aim the muzzle of my pistol. 
 
 "To tell the truth, it seems to me that if there were any- 
 where no matter where, a rising of the people, I would take 
 part in it, not so much to free whoever it might be (freeing 
 other people when we are not free ourselves !), but to finish 
 with it once for all. 
 
 "Our friend Va-isili, who has taken us in here, is a happy 
 man ; he is one of us, but how calm he is ! nothing disturbs 
 him. If he were any one else, I should have said all sorts of 
 disagreeable things to him — but with him it's impossible. 
 The real truth is, that a man's character is everything. His 
 opinions nothing. Vassili has a character in which one 
 picks no f5aws ; and he is right ! 
 
 " He passes long hours with Marianne and me. Strangely 
 enough, I love her and she loves me (don't laugh, this is 
 the simple truth), and I have nothing to say to her, while 
 she talks and discusses with him and listens to everything 
 he says. I'm not at all jealous of him ; he is taking meas- 
 ures to get a place for her, at least she is all the time asking 
 him to do so ; but I am full of bitterness whenever I look - 
 at them. Yet I need only say the word marriage, and she 
 would accept at once, and Father Zossime would come upon 
 the stage, and we should hear the opening chorus, ' Isaiah, 
 enter into happiness I '* In short, the whole thing. But I 
 should not be any happier, and there would be absolutely 
 nothing changed. There is no escape from my situation. 
 Oh yes, life has cut me from too scant a pattern, as our 
 drunken tailor used to .say, do you remember, when he 
 was complaining about his wife ? 
 
 "Besides, I know this can't last long. I'm sure there's 
 something brewing. 
 
 ' ' Didn't I ask for immediate action ? haven't I proved that 
 we must begin? Well, we shall begin. 
 
 " I don't know whether I spoke to you of another compan- 
 
 * Marriage hymn sung in the chujches 
 
240 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 ion I have, a relation of the Sipiagins ? He is preparing 
 for us a mess which will be hard to swallow. 
 
 "I meant to finish my letter ; but, how can I help it? 
 whatever I may be doing, I scribble verses. I don't read 
 them to Marianne, she doesn't care for them ; you praise 
 them sometimes, and what is more, you never speak of them 
 to any one else. I have been struck by something that 
 happens all over Russia. But here are the lines ; 
 
 " SLEEP. 
 
 " It was long since I had seen the place of my birth, but I found 
 there no change. Deathlike torpor, absence of thought, roofless 
 houses, ruined walls, filth, and vileness, and poverty, and misery, the 
 insolent or sullen looks of slaves, all is as before. Our people 
 has become free, and its hand, as of yore, hangs powerless by its 
 side Nothing, nothing is changed. In one respect alone have we 
 surpassed Europe, Asia, the whole world. No, my dear fellow-coun- 
 trymen have never slept so terrible a sleep. 
 
 " Every one is asleep : everywhere in the village, the city, in the 
 talega, the sleigh, day and night, sitting and standing — the merchant, 
 the tchinovnik sleeps ; in his tower sleeps the watchman, under the 
 cold of the snows, beneath the heat of the sun. And the criminal 
 sleeps, and the judge slumbers ; the peasants are sleeping the sleep 
 of death ; they gather in the harvest, they toil in the fields — they sleep ; 
 they thresh the corn, still sleeping ; father, mother, and children all 
 asleep. He who beats and he who is beaten, both sleep. The tavern 
 alone is awake, its eye always open. And clasping between its five 
 fingers a jug of brandy, its head toward the North Pole, its feet at 
 the Caucasus, sleeps in an eternal sleep — Russia, the holy country ! " 
 
 "Please excuse me ; I did not mean to send you fuch a 
 sad letter without giving you something to laugh at, at least 
 at the end (you have probably noticed some bad rhymes — 
 Pshaw !). 
 
 " When shall I write you again .' And shall I write to 
 you ? Whatever may happen, I am sure you will not tor- 
 get 
 
 " Your faithful friend, 
 
 " A. N. 
 
 " P. S. — Yes, our people sleep. But I imagine that if any. 
 thing is to wake them up, it will not be what we think." 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 241 
 
 When he had reached the end, Neshdanof threw down 
 his pen and said to himself, " Now try to go to sleep, and to 
 forget all this nonsense, rhymester ! " 
 
 He went to bed, but sleep was long in coming. 
 
 The next morning Marianne woke him up by going 
 through his room to go to Tatiana ; but he had scarcely had 
 time to dress himself, when he saw her come back with 
 pleasure and excitenjent on her face ; she seemed very much 
 moved. 
 
 " Do you know, Alexis, they say that in the distnct of 
 T -, close by here, it's already begun ? " 
 
 " Begun ! Who has begun ? Who told you ? " 
 
 ' ' Paul. They say the peasants have risen ; that they are 
 unwilling to pay the taxes ; that they are forming mobs." 
 
 ' ' Did you hear that with your own ears ? " 
 
 ' ' Tatiana told me. But here's Paul ; you can ask him." 
 
 Paul entered, and confirmed what Marianne had said. 
 
 "There is trouble in the district of T , that's sure," 
 
 said he, shaking his beard, and snapping his bright, dark 
 eyes. ' ' It's Markelof s work, probably. He hasn't been 
 home for five days." 
 
 Neshdanof took his cap. 
 
 ' ' Where are you going ? " asked Marianne. 
 
 "But — over there," he answered, frowning, without rais- 
 ing his eyes ; "to the district of T ." 
 
 " So am I, then. You'll take me, of course. Just give 
 me time to get a handkerchief to throw over my head." 
 
 "It's not a woman's work," answered Neshdanof gloom- 
 ily, his eyes cast down, with a sort of irritated air. 
 
 "No, no! you are right to go, otherwise Markelof 
 might take you for a coward. But I shall go with you." 
 
 "I'm not a coward," said Neshdanof, in the same gloomy 
 way. 
 
 ' ' I meant he would take us both for cowards. I'm go- 
 ing with you.'' 
 
 Marianne -vent to her room to get her handkerchief. 
 Paul uttered a "ho, ho!" of anxiety, and at once dis- 
 appeared. He ran to carry Solomine word. 
 
 Before Marianne had got back, Solomine came into the 
 room. Neshdanof was standing before the window, his 
 16 
 
242 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 head on his arm, and his arm on the wii ; iow. Solomine 
 tapped him on the shoulder. He turned ]uickly ; his dis^ 
 hevelled beard and hair — he had not fi.iished dressing 
 — gave him a wild, strange appearance. 
 
 Solomine had also changed in this last fortnight ; he had 
 grown sallower, his face was drawn, his upper lip was 
 raised slightly so as to show his teeth. He too seemed 
 troubled, so far at least as a well-balanced mind can be 
 troubled. 
 
 " Markelof couldn't restrain himself," he said. "That 
 may end badly for him in the first place — and for others — " 
 
 " I want to see what it amounts to — " interrupted 
 Neshdanof 
 
 "So do- 1," added Marianne, as she appeared on the 
 threshold. 
 
 Solomine turned slowly toward her. 
 
 " I shouldn't advise you to, Marianne. You might be- 
 tray yourself and us too, without meaning it and without 
 any need. Let Neshdanof go and scent it out, if he 
 chooses — not too near, however 1 But why should you go ? " 
 
 " I don't want to let him go alone." 
 
 " You would be in his way." 
 
 Marianne looked at Neshdanof. He was standing mo- 
 tionless, his face, too, was motionless and dejected. 
 
 " But if there's danger ? " she urged. 
 
 Solomine smiled. 
 
 ' ' You can be easy ; when there's danger I shall let you 
 go." 
 
 Marianne took off the handkerchief from her head, and 
 sat down. 
 
 Then Solomine turned toward Neshdanof. " And you, 
 my friend." he said seriously, somewhat thoughtfully. 
 ' ' It's possible all this has been exaggerated ; at any rate 
 I beg that you will be prudent. I'm going to send some 
 one to show you the way. You'll promise, Neshdanof? 
 You'll promise } " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Without fail.?" 
 
 "Yes, since everyone here has to obey you, beginning 
 with Marianne." 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 243 
 
 Neshdanof went out into the hall without taking leave. 
 Paul emerged from a dark corner, and ran down the stair- 
 case ahead of him, with his hob-nailed boots clattering 
 loudly. It was he who was to go with Neshdanof. 
 Solomine sat down by Marianne. 
 
 " You heard what Neshdanof just said .? " 
 
 ' ' Yes, he's vexed because I obey you and not him. That 
 is true. I love him, but I mind you. He is dearer to me, 
 you are nearer." 
 
 Solomine gently caressed her hand. 
 
 "It's a very disagreeable matter," he said, at last. "If 
 Markelof is concerned in it, he is ruined." 
 
 Marianne shuddered. 
 
 "Ruined!" 
 
 " Yes. He never does anything half way ; he won't hide 
 behind others." 
 
 "Ruined !" murmured Marianne, again, and tears rolled 
 down her cheeks. "Ah, Solomine, how sorry I am for 
 him ! But why should he not be successful .-' Why must 
 he necessarily be ruined } " 
 
 "Because in enterprises of this sort, even if they are suc- 
 cessful, those in advance always fall. But in this he has 
 just tried, it's not only all of the first or the second rank who 
 perish, it's the tenth, and the twentieth—" 
 
 " Then we shall never complete it I " 
 
 " What you are dreaming of? never. We shall never see 
 that with our eyes, our bodily eyes. Oh, with those of the 
 mind its very different. We can give ourselves the pleas- 
 ure of seeing it. There's nothing to prevent that." 
 
 " But then, Solomine, tell me — " 
 
 "What.?" 
 
 " Why do you walk in that road,? " 
 
 "Because there is no other To speak more plainly, 
 Markelof- and I have the same end in view, but our roads 
 are different." 
 
 "Poor Markelof," said Marianne, sorrowfully. 
 
 Solomine began again gently to caress her hand. ' ' Come, 
 come, there's nothing positive. Let us wait to hear what 
 Paul will have to say. In our work, we must be brave. 
 The English have a saying, 'Never say die.' It's a good 
 
244 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 proverb, better than the Russian one, 'When misfortune 
 has entered throw the door wide open.' Why borrow 
 trouble ? " 
 
 Solomine arose. 
 
 " And the place you were going to get for me I" asked 
 Marianne suddenly. 
 
 Tears were still glistening on her cheeks, but there was no 
 sadness in her eyes. 
 
 Solomine sat down again. 
 
 "Are you in a great hurry to get away from here ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, but I want to be of use." 
 
 ' ' Marianne, you are very useful here. Don't leave us ; 
 wait. What do you want } " he asked of Tatiana, who was 
 entering the room. 
 
 "There's a female asking for Neshdanof," answered Tati- 
 ana, laughing, and swinging her arms. " I wa* just about 
 to say to her that there was no one of that name here, and 
 never had been. But just then she — " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 ' ' This female. When she saw that, she wrote her name 
 on this piece of paper and told me to show it to you, and 
 then you would let her in, and that if Neshdanof was not 
 at home, she could wait." 
 
 On the paper was written, in large letters, Mashurina. 
 
 "Show her in," said Solomine. "It won't discom- 
 mode you, will it, Marianne, if she comes in here ? She is 
 one of us." 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 In a few moments they saw Mashurina crossing the 
 threshold, dressed exactly as we have seen her in the first 
 chapter. 
 
XXXI. 
 
 J[_ recognizing Solomine she went up towards him, 
 and held out her hand, " How are you, Solomine?" She 
 merely glanced at Marianne. 
 
 " He'll be back soon," said Solomine. " But let me ask 
 who told you .'' " 
 
 " Markelof. Besides there are two or three persons in 
 the town who know already." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "Yes. Some one has blabbed. It seems Neshdanof has 
 been recognized." 
 
 "That's the great advantage of disguises," muttered 
 Solomine. "Let me introduce you to one another," he 
 added aloud, "Miss Sinetsky, ]\Iiss Mashurina. Take a 
 chair." 
 
 Mashurina nodded her head slightly, and sat down. 
 
 "1 have a letter for Neshdanof, and a verbal question 
 for you, Solomine." 
 
 ' ' What is it ? and from whom ? " 
 
 " From some one you know. Is all ready here ? " 
 
 "Nothing is ready." 
 
 Mashurina opened her little eyes as wide as she could. 
 
 "Nothing?" 
 
 •'Nothing." 
 'Absolutely nothing? " 
 
 ••Absolutely nothing." 
 
 " That is mv answer ? " 
 
 "Exactly."' 
 
 Mashurina pensively took a cigarette from her pocket. 
 
 " Can you give me a light ? " 
 
 " Here is a match." 
 
 Mashurina lit her cigarette. 
 
 245 
 
246 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " They expected something very different,'' she resumed. 
 "In the suburbs it's not like this. After all, that's your 
 affair. I came for only a moment to see Neshdanof and 
 give him the letter.'' 
 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 "A long distance." 
 
 In fact she was starting for Geneva, but she did not 
 want to tell Solomine, of whom she did not feel sure, to say 
 nothing of the outsider who was there. They sent Mash- 
 urina to Geneva, although she knew only a few words of 
 German, to carry to a person whom she did not know, a 
 piece of pasteboard on which was drawn a raisin, with two 
 hundred and seventy-nine silver rubles. 
 
 " And Ostrodumof, where is he 1 with you ? " 
 
 ",No, He's not far off. He stopped on the way. But 
 he'll come when he's wanted. You can be sure of Pimen." 
 
 " How did you get here ?" 
 
 " In a telega, of course ; give me another match." 
 
 Solomine gave her a burning match. 
 
 "Mr. Solomine," whispered a voice behind the door, 
 " come here, please." 
 
 " Who's there .? What is it 1 " 
 
 "Come, please," the voice repeated persuasively and 
 urgently. "There are some strange workmen with some- 
 thing to say, and Paul isn't there." 
 
 Solomine arose and went out. 
 
 Mashurina stared so at Marianne that the poor girl be- 
 came quite embarrassed. 
 
 "Excuse me," Mashurina began in her harsh, jerky 
 voice, " I'm perfectly plain, and I don't know how to begin. 
 Don't be angry, and don't answer unless you please. Are 
 you the young lady who ran away from the Sipiagins .? " 
 
 Marianne, though somewhat nonplussed, answered : 
 
 " I am." 
 
 "With Neshdanof.?" 
 
 ' ' Why, yes. " 
 
 "Give me your hand, please. You will excuse me. 
 Yi'ju must be good, since he loves you." 
 
 Marianne pressed Mashurina's hand, saying : 
 
 " You know him well ? " 
 
VIRGIN SOIL, 247 
 
 " I know him. I used to see him at Petersburg. That's 
 why I spealc to you about him. Marlcelof also told 
 me—" 
 
 "Ah, Markelof.' Have you seen him recently? " 
 
 "Quite recently. Just now, he's not at home." 
 
 " Where has he gone .'' " 
 
 " Where he was ordered to go." 
 
 Marianne sighed. 
 
 "Ah, Madame, Mashurina, I'm alarmed about him.' 
 
 "In the first place I'm not ' madame ; ' all these graces 
 have to be thrown aside. And then, don't say you're 
 alarmed. You should not be. We need not be alarmed 
 about ourselves or about others. We should take no 
 thought for ourselves, and have no fears. It's all useless, 
 but I consider — I consider that it is not hard for me, Mash- 
 urina, to talk in this way. I am ugly. But you, you are 
 pretty, so it's a great deal harder for you." Mashurina 
 bowed her head and turned away. " Markelof said to me 
 — he knew that I had a letter for Neshdanof — he said to 
 me, ' Don't go to the mill, don't carry that letter ; you'll 
 be a kill-joy. Leave them alone ! They are both happy 
 over there — so much the better, don't disturb them ! ' I 
 did not want to disturb you — but what could I do with the 
 letter ? " 
 
 " You must give it to him without fail," cried Marianne. 
 "But what a kind heart Markelof has! Do you really 
 think he'll get killed or sent to Siberia.'" 
 
 "Why, what difference does it make.? Don't people 
 come back from Siberia .? As for losing his life — some per- 
 son's lives are happy, other's bitter. Markelofs hasn't been 
 made out of refined sugar." 
 
 Mashurina again gave Marianne an intense, scrutinizing 
 glance. 
 
 "It's true, you are a beauty," she exclaimed at last, 
 "you are as pretty as a bird. But Alexis doesn't come 
 back. I've a great mind to give you the letter. Why 
 should I wait ? " 
 
 " I will give it to him, without fail, you may be sure." 
 
 Mashurina rested her cheek on the palm of her hand, and 
 remained silent for a long time. 
 
24S VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 "Tell me — excuse the question — do you love him very 
 much ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Mashurina shook her big head. 
 
 " I don't need to ask if he loves you. Well, I'm oif ; I 
 mustn't be late. You'll tell him that I've been here — that 
 I've left messages for him. Tell him Mashurina was here. 
 You will remember my name 1 Yes, Mashurina. And the 
 letter — wait a moment, where did I put it .' " 
 
 Mashurina arose and turned away as if to feel in her pock- 
 ets, and at the same time she put into her mouth a little 
 paper pellet, which she swallowed. 
 
 "Oh, heavens! how stupid lam. Can I have lost it? 
 I have, really. Oh, what a pity I If any one were to find 
 it — no, I really haven't it with me. So it's settled the way 
 Markelof wanted it. " 
 
 "Look again," murmured Marianne. 
 
 Mashurina made a gesture with her hand. 
 
 "No, what's the use. It's really lost.'' 
 
 Marianne went up to her. 
 
 "Well, kiss me, then." 
 
 Mashurina suddenly put her arms around her, and pressed 
 her to her bosom with almost a man's strength. 
 
 " There's no one else I should have done that for," said 
 she, in a low voice ; " it's ^against my conscience ; it's the 
 only time. Tell him to be prudent ; and you, too, take 
 care. This place will soon be dangerous, dangerous foi 
 every one. Go, both of you, before that time comes. 
 Good-by ! ■" she added roughly, in a loud voice ; " and then 
 tell him — no, don't tell him anything ! " 
 
 Mashurina went out, slamming the door after her, and 
 Marianne was left standing alone and pensive in the middle 
 of her room. 
 
 " What does it all mean 1 " she said at last. " Why, this 
 woman loves him more than I do. And why did she tell 
 me all this ? And why did Solomine go out and not come 
 back ? " 
 
 She began to walk up and down ; a sirange feeling, made 
 up of vexation, grief, and stupor, took possession of her. 
 Why Bad she not gone with Neshdanof ? It was Solomine 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 249 
 
 who had dissuaded her — but he, where was he ? What is 
 going on around her ? It was evidently out of pity for 
 Neshdanof, that Mashurina had not given her that danger- 
 ous letter. But how could she be guilty of such disobedi- 
 ence ? Did she want to display her generosity ? But what 
 right had she ? And why was she, Marianne, so touched by 
 it ? And was she really touched ? 
 
 An ugly woman who was interested in a young man- 
 was there, after all, anything so surprising in that ^ And 
 why should Mashurina suppose that Marianne's attachment 
 for Neshdanof was stronger than her sense of duty ? Mari- 
 anne did not at all desire this sacrifice. And what could 
 there have been in the letter ? A call for immediate action ? 
 Well, what thei) .? 
 
 And Markelof.? He is in danger — and we, what are we 
 doing .? Markelof spares us both ; he gives a chance to be 
 happy together. Is this, too, generosity or — contempt ? 
 
 So we have only left that odious house to be together and 
 coo like turtle-doves. 
 
 Such were Marianne's thoughts, and her feeling of annoy- 
 ance only increased at every moment. Besides, her vanity 
 was wounded. Why should they all, all, keep away from 
 her? This stout woman had called her "a bird," a " pretty 
 girl " — why not a doll, in so many words .? And why had 
 not Neshdanof gone off alone.? Why had Paul gone with 
 him ? Did he need some one to take care of him ? And 
 Solomine, what were his real views ? There was nothing 
 of the revolutionist about him. Would any one imagine by 
 any chance that she considered it all a game } 
 
 These were the thoughts that were chasing one another 
 confusedly in Marianne's brain. With tightly closed lips, 
 and her arms folded, like a man, she sat down by the win- 
 dow and was again still, without even leaning against the 
 back of her chair ; she was all tense, alert, ready to spring. 
 She did not want to go and work with Tatiana, she wanted 
 to do only one thing — wait. And she waited with a sort of 
 raging obstinacy. 
 
 At times her feelings . seemed to her strange and incom- 
 prehensible — but so much the worse ! Once it even passed 
 through her head that possibly jealousy was the cause of it 
 
250 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 all. But when she remembered poor Mashurina's face, she 
 shrugged her shoulders and made a gesture with her hand, 
 as if she was pushing something away, not in fact, but by 
 a corresponding mental action. 
 
 Marianne had a long time to wait. At last she heard the 
 steps of two persons coming up the stairs. She turned her 
 ey.js to the door ; the steps drew near. The door opened, 
 and Neshdanof, supported by Paul's arm, appeared on the 
 threshold. 
 
 He was deadly pale and bare-headed ; his disheveled hair 
 was hanging in damp locks over his forehead ; his eyes 
 looked straight before him without seeing anything. Paul 
 carried him across the room (Neshdanofs limp, inert, totte' 
 ing legs were dragging behind -him) and sat him down o . 
 a sofa. 
 
 Marianne sprang from her chair. 
 
 " What is it 1 What has happened ? Is he sick 1 " 
 
 But Paul, after he put Neshdanof down, answered over 
 his shoulder with a smile, 
 
 " Don't be frightened, it will pass off — it's only that he's 
 not used to it." 
 
 ' ' But what is it ? " insisted Marianne. 
 
 "He's a little tipsy; he drank on an empty stomach ; 
 that's all." 
 
 Marianne bent over Neshdanof. He was half lying down 
 on the sofa ; his head was bent forward over his chest, his 
 eyes were wandering, his breath was reeking with brandy ; 
 he was drunk. 
 
 "Alexis!" she exclaimed, involuntarily. He managed 
 to raise his heavy eyelids and tried to smile. 
 
 "Ah, Marianne," he stammered, " you always said sim — 
 sim — simplified ; now I'm simplified. Since the people are 
 always drunk — ^you understand — " 
 
 He stopped, then murmured a few more unintelligible 
 words, closed his eyes and fell asleep. Paul arranged him 
 comfortably on the sofa. 
 
 "Don't distress yourself, Miss Marianne," he repeated, 
 " he'll sleep for a couple of hours, and then he'll be as good 
 as new." 
 
 Marianne wanted to ask how it happened, but her ques- 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 251 
 
 tion would have detained Paul, and she wanted to be alone, 
 or rather she did not want Paul to see him in this plight be- 
 fore her. She went off toward the window. Paul, jvho per- 
 ceived it all in a moment, carefully wrapped up Neshdanofs 
 feet in the tails of his caftan, put a little pillow under his 
 head, said once more, " It's nothing," and crept out of the 
 room on tip-toe. 
 
 Marianne went back. Neshdanofs head had sunk in':o 
 the pillow ; there was a steady tension on his face, which 
 was as pale as that of a very sick man. 
 
 " How did it happen ?" she thought. 
 
xxxii. 
 
 I'^HIS is the way it happened. 
 When he sat down in the telega by the side of 
 Paul, Neshdanof suddenly became very much excited. 
 They had hardly got out from the court-yard into the road, 
 
 and started in the direction of T , when he began to 
 
 call out and stop the passing peasants, and to address them 
 with remarks as brief as they were incoherent. 
 
 " Hulloh ! " he shouted, " are you asleep ? Get up ! the 
 hour has come. Down with taxation ; down with the pro- 
 prietors ! " 
 
 Some of the peasants stared at him with surprise, others 
 went on their way without paying any attention to what he 
 said ; they thought he was drunk. One of them, when he 
 reached home, said he had met a Frenchman lisping some- 
 thing in his jargon, he didn't know what. 
 
 Neshdanof was quite able to understand how ridiculous 
 and even stupid his conduct was ; but gradually he worked 
 himself up into such a state that he lost the power of dis- 
 tinguishing what was reasonable from what was absurd. 
 
 Paul did his best to calm him, saying, " Come, come ; 
 you can't go on like that," and tried to make it clear to 
 him that they would soon arrive at the first large village on 
 
 the other side of the boundary line of the district of T , 
 
 and that then they could make inquiries. But Neshdanof 
 paid no attention, and meanwhile his face wore an expres- 
 sion of almost desperate sadness. 
 
 Their horse was a sturdy, round little beast, with the 
 mane trimmed close upon its arched neck. It kept its 
 strong little legs in active motion, and pulled perpetually 
 on the reins, as if it thought it was driven by some one who 
 was in a great hurry. 
 
 After they had reached the above-mentioned village, 
 Neshdanof saw eight peasants standing near the road be 
 
 252 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 253 
 
 tore the door of an empty barn. He sprang at once from 
 the telega, ran up to them, and for five minutes he held 
 forth to them with a speech which was continually inter- 
 rupted by sudden cries accompanied by wild gestures. 
 
 The words, " Liberty ! Forward ! Shoulder to shoul- 
 der ! " shouted in a high, husky voice, rose above a num- 
 ber of others w?ich could not be clearly made out. 
 
 The peasants who had assembled before the barn to see 
 about putting some wheat into it, even if only a sample (it 
 was the communal granary, hence empty), stared at Nesh- 
 danof and seemed to listen to him very attentively ; but, 
 probably, they did not understand very much, for when at 
 last he turned and ran back with a parting cry of " Lib- 
 erty ! " one of them, the cleverest of all, nodded his head 
 wisely and said, " How severe he is ! " and another added, 
 " He must be one of the leaders." To which the clever 
 peasant replied, " Certainly, or else he wouldn't be rasping 
 his throat in that way. We must look out for our money ; 
 they'll be taking it out of us." 
 
 Neshdanof, when he got into the telega again and sat 
 down by Paul, said to himself, " Good God, what stuff and 
 nonsense ! But after all no one knows exactly how to 
 arouse the people ; perhaps that's the way. There's no 
 time to think about that. So much the worse. That's 
 not what was wanted ; but so much the worse still. We 
 must go on." 
 
 They drove into the village street. In the middle of it, 
 just before the tavern door, there was assembled quite a 
 large number of peasants. Paul tried to restrain Neshda- 
 nof, but he had jumped quickly from the telega, and cry- 
 ing, "Brothers ! "he had forced his way into the crowd. 
 
 They made room for him, and Neshdanof began a new 
 speech, without looking at any one, in a voice both fierce 
 and lachrymose. 
 
 But the consequences were very different from those of 
 his speech before the barn. A huge fellow, with a smooth 
 but villainous face, wearing a short, greasy, half pelisse, 
 high boots, and a sheep-skin cap, walked up to Neshdanof, 
 and clapped him heavily on the shoulder. 
 
 " You are right ! You are a good fellow ! " he roared. 
 
2 54 VIRGIN' SOIL. 
 
 with a voice of thunder ; " but hold on, don't you know thai 
 talking's dry work ? Come this way, we can have our talk 
 out a great deal better." 
 
 He led Neshdanof into the tavern ; the whole crowd fol- 
 lowed tumultuously. 
 
 " Mikheitch," shouted the big fellow, " ten kopecks' 
 worth of brandy, you know my drink ! I'm treating a 
 friend. The devil knows where he comes from or whom 
 he belongs to, but he's pitching into the noblemen. Drink ! " 
 he said to Neshdanof, offering him a large, heavy, full 
 glass, all damp on the outside, as if with perspiration. 
 " Drink, for you mean well by us ! " 
 
 " Drink ! " roared the crowd. 
 
 Neshdanof seized the glass — he was almost choking, and 
 cried : 
 
 " To your health, boys ! " 
 
 And he drained it to the last drop. 
 
 Ugh ! he swallowed it with the resolution of despair, as 
 he would have marched up to a battery or to a line of bayo- 
 nets. But, heavens, what has happened ? Something struck 
 him down his back and legs, burned his throat, and chest, 
 and stomach, and brought tears to his eyes — a qualm of 
 nausea, which he could hardly conquer, ran over his whole 
 body. He shouted as loud as he could the first thing that 
 came into his head, to dull that terrible feeling. Every- 
 thing in the dingy tavern became hot, choking, stifling 
 And how many people there were ! 
 
 He began to talk, to talk at great length, and to shout 
 with wild fury, and to clasp big horny hands, and kiss sticky 
 beards. The big, hulking fellow hugged him and nearly 
 broke his ribs. He was a real monster. " I'll tear open the 
 throat," he roared, " of the first man who does any harm to 
 our brothers. I'll give him a lick on the top of the head. 
 You'll hear him yell. I know how to do it. I've been a 
 butcher, I have. I know that business." 
 
 With these words he held out his huge, red fist, covered 
 with patches of freckles, and suddenly, good Lord ! a voice 
 shouted again, " Drink ! " and Neshdanof swallowed another 
 draught of the vile poison. 
 
 But this time the effect was terrible. It was as if iron 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 255 
 
 hooks were tearing him inside, his head began to spin, green 
 circles were turning before his eyes. 
 
 There was a ringing in his ears — a roar. Horror — a third 
 glass ! Is it possible that he swallowed it ? Red noses flew 
 toward him ; dusty heads of hair, sunburned necks, fur- 
 rowed, scarred throats. Hairy hands took hold of him. 
 " Come, finish your speech ! " shouted wild voices. "Tlome, 
 speak ! Day before yesterday a stranger, like you, told us 
 lots of things. Go on ! you four-legged son of a sea cook ! " 
 
 The earth waved beneath Neshdanof's feet. His voice 
 sounded strange to him, as if some one else were speaking. 
 Could he be dead ? 
 
 Suddenly the fresh air struck his face ; there was more 
 hustling, more red faces glared at him, more of the stench 
 of brandy, of sheepskin, of leather, and tar. He found 
 himself sitting in the telega by the side of Paul. His first 
 thought was to get out, shouting : 
 
 " Where are you going ? Stop ! I haven't had a chance 
 to explain anything." 
 
 Then he added, addressing Paul : 
 
 " And you yourself, you odd fish, you sly dog, what are 
 your opinions ? " 
 
 And Paul answered, " It would be perfect, if there were 
 no masters and if the whole world belonged to us, of course. 
 But, up to the present time, there has been no ukase order- 
 ing that." And, while he was talking, he quietly turned 
 the telega round ; suddenly he shook the reins over the 
 horse's back, and they started away from the crowd and 
 uproar toward the mill. 
 
 Neshdanof was half asleep ; his body fell to the right 
 and to the left. The wind blew pleasantly on his face and 
 dispelled his gloomy thoughts. 
 
 Only one thing pained him : that he had not expounded 
 his ideas — but again the wind caressed his burning cheek. 
 
 Then, the appearance of Marianne — a momentary /but 
 scorching sensation of shame — and then a deadly stupor. 
 
 Paul told Solomine the whole story. He even confessed 
 that he had not kept Neshdanof from drinking — for it was 
 the only way he could get out of the tavern. The peasants 
 would not have let him go. 
 
256 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " When he was overcome by the brandy, I said to tlie 
 peasants, with a great many bows, ' Come, my good fellows, 
 let the boy go ; see how young he is ! ' They let him go ; 
 but they asked for half a ruble for ransom, and I gave it to 
 them." 
 
 " That was right," said Solomine. 
 
 Neshdanof was sleeping, and Marianne was sitting by 
 the window looking at the garden- walk. 
 
 Singularly enough, the evil thoughts and feelings which 
 had been agitating her before Neshdanof's arrival had sud- 
 denly left her. Neshdanof did not inspire her with repul- 
 sion or disgust ; she only pitied him. 
 
 She knew perfectly well that he was not dissipated or a 
 drunkard ; and she was wondering what friendly speech 
 she could make to him when he would wake up, to save 
 him from shame and grief. 
 
 " Yes," she said to herself, " I must manage to get him 
 to tell me how it happened." 
 
 She was not agitated, but she was sad, very sad. It 
 seemed to herself that she had breathed in a puff of the 
 real atmosphere that surrounded the unknown world into 
 which she yearned to plunge, and this grossness, these dark 
 shadows made her tremble. To what Moloch was she 
 about to sacrifice herself ? 
 
 But no, that was impossible ; this was a mere incident, 
 everything would soon be as before. It was a passing im- 
 pression, that had struck her with such force simply because 
 it was so unexpected. 
 
 Marianne arose and walked to the sofa on which Nesh- 
 danof was lying, and with her handkerchief she wiped his 
 pale forehead, which was contracted as if with pain even 
 while he was sleeping, and she pushed back the young 
 man's hair. 
 
 She began to pity him as a mother pities a sick child. 
 But he was a painful sight, and she went back quietly to 
 her own room, leaving the door between open. 
 
 She did not take up any work to occupy her hands, she 
 sat down and fell into the same revery. She felt the time 
 creep by, moment by moment, and this gave her pleasure, 
 and her heart was beating as if she expected something. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 25' 
 
 Where was Solomine all this time ? 
 
 The door creaked softly and Tatiana came in. 
 
 " What do you want ? " asked Marianne, with an irritated 
 start. 
 
 " Marianne," sajd Tatiana, in a low voice, " see here ; 
 don't distress yourself about this ! it might happen to any- 
 body, and besides it's lucky that he — " 
 
 " I'm not distressing myself at all, Tatiana. Neshdanoi 
 is not very well ; there's nothing very serious." 
 
 " Oh, so much the better ! That's what I said to myself ; 
 Marianne doesn't come, what can be the matter ? But at the 
 same time I shouldn't have come, because my rule in these 
 cases is always ' mind your own business ' — only there is a 
 man just come to the mill, I don't know who he is. He's 
 sort of lame, very short, and he insists on seeing Neshdanof. 
 What does it mean ? This morning that woman — now this 
 lame fellow ! And when I said that Neshdanof was not 
 here, he asked for Solomine. ' I must see some one,' he 
 says, 'because I've come on very serious business.' We 
 tried to send him off, like that woman, by telling him that 
 Solomine was not here, that he'd gone out ; but the fellow 
 said, ' I shan't go ; I'll stay till night if need be.' And he's 
 walking up and down the courtyard. There, come out 
 into the hall ; you can look out of the window and see if you 
 know him." 
 
 Marianne went out with Tatiana ; as she passed by Nesh- 
 danof she noticed once more the painful contraction of his 
 brow, which she once more wiped with her handkerchief. 
 
 Through the dust upon the narrow window she saw the 
 visitor ; it was no one she knew. 
 
 But at that moment Solomine came around from behind 
 the house. The little lame man went quickly up to him, 
 holding out his hand. Solomine took it. Evidently he 
 knew him. Then they both disappeared. 
 
 But steps could be heard upon the staircase. They were 
 coming up. 
 
 Marianne went back quickly to her room, and stopped 
 when she got fairly into it, breathing with difficulty. She 
 was afraid — of what ? She did not know. 
 
 Solomine thrust his head in at the door. 
 
 17 
 
258 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " Marianne, let me come in. I bring some one whom it is 
 absolutely necessary that you should see." 
 
 Marianne merely nodded assent, as she saw, following' 
 Solomine, Pakline come in 
 
XXXIII. 
 
 I'M a friend of your husband," said Pakline, making 
 Marianne a very deep bow as if he were trying to 
 hide his face from her, agitated as it was by anxiety and 
 fear, " and I'm a friend of Solomine. Neshdanof is asleep, 
 he's not very well, I understand. I'm sorry to say I bring 
 bad news, part of which I've had time to tell Solomine, 
 and in consequence certain decisive measures will have to 
 be taken." 
 
 Pakline's voice kept failing him, like that of a man whose 
 mouth is dry with thirst. 
 
 The news he brought was indeed bad. Markelof had 
 been captured by the peasants and carried to the town. 
 Goloushkine's clerk had informed upon his master, who had 
 been arrested. Goloushkine, in his turn, was giving all 
 the information he could, and telling everything he knew ; 
 he proposed to join the Greek Church, and had given the 
 Gymnasium a portrait of Philaretes, the Metropolitan ; he 
 had already sent five thousand rubles to be divided 
 among the invalid soldiers. There could be no doubt that 
 he had told about Neshdanof. At any moment the police 
 might make a descent upon the mill. 
 
 Solomine too was in danger. 
 
 " As for me," added Pakline, " only one thing surprises 
 me, and that is, that I am allowed to go about freely ; it is 
 true that I never took any serious interest in politics, and 
 that I never attended a meeting. In a word, I have taken 
 advantage of the forgetfulness or the carelessness of the po- 
 lice to come and warn you, and to talk over what is to be 
 done to — to avoid complications." 
 
 Marianne listened to all Pakline had to say. She was 
 not frightened ; she was even very calm. But Pakline was 
 right ; something must be done. The first thing she did 
 was to look at Solomine. 
 
 259 
 
26o VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 He, too, seemed composed, save that the muscles of 
 his lips quivered imperceptibly ; he no longer smiled as 
 usual. 
 
 Solomine understood the meaning of Marianne's glance ; 
 she was waiting for what he should say, in order to follow 
 his advice. 
 
 " It's a very ticklish matter," he began. " Neshdanof 
 would do well, I think, to go off for a time. But by the 
 way, Mr. Pakline, how did you know that he was here ? " 
 
 Pakline waved his hand. 
 
 " It's some one who met him on one of his excursions one 
 day when he was making speeches in the neighborhood. 
 This person follows him, not with any evil intention, I 
 should say ; he's one of us. But I really think," he went 
 on, turning to Marianne, " that our friend Neshdanof has 
 been very, very imprudent." 
 
 "Reproaches are of no use now," said Solomine ; "I'm 
 sorry we can't settle on anything at once ; but by to- 
 morrow he will be better, and the police are not so active 
 as you imagine. And you too, Marianne, you must go 
 with him." 
 
 " Of course," answered Marianne, in a low but firm 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes," answered Solomine ; " we must reflect and choose 
 the place and the means." 
 
 " Let me suggest to you," began Pakline, " an idea 
 which occurred to me as I was driving here. Let me first 
 tell you, though, that I sent my coachman back when I 
 was a verst from the mill." 
 
 " What is your idea ? " asked Solomine. 
 
 " It's this : you'll give me some horses, and I'll go at 
 once to the Sipiagins." 
 
 " To the Sipiagins ! " repeated Marianne. " Why there ? " 
 
 " You'll see." 
 
 " But do you know them ? " 
 
 " Not at all ; but listen. Consider my idea carefully. It 
 seems to me like an inspiration of genius. Markelaf is 
 Sipiagin's brother-in-law, his wife's brother, isn't he ? Well, 
 don't you think he will do something to save him and 
 Neshdanof ? Granting that Sipiagin is angry with him, that 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 261 
 
 does not alter the fact that Neshdanof has become a rela- 
 tion of his by marrying you. And the danger hanging 
 over our friend — " 
 
 " I'm not married," said Marianne. 
 
 Pakline started with surprise. 
 
 " What ! all this time you haven't yet ? Pshaw ! " he 
 added, " it will do no harm to lie a little ; at any rate, you 
 will get married. But seriously, you can't find anything 
 better than my plan. You will notice that up to the pres- 
 ent time Sipiagin has not made any search for you. That 
 shows that he has a certain generosity — I notice the word 
 displeases you — a certain pretense of generosity. Why not 
 take advantage of it under present circumstances ? Tell 
 me." 
 
 Marianne raised her head and ran her hand through her 
 hair. 
 
 " You can do anything you please for Markelof, Mr. 
 Pakline, or for yourself ; but neither Alexis nor I can 
 endure Mr. Sipiagin's interference or protection. We have 
 not run away from his house to go back and knock at his 
 door like beggars. We have nothing to do with the 
 generosity or the pretense of generosity of Mr. Sipiagin 
 or his wife." 
 
 " Those are very commendable sentiments," answered 
 Pakline, who thought to himself. That's rather a damper, — 
 " although, on the other hand, if you consider — at any rate 
 I'm ready to do as you say. I shall try to help only 
 Markelof, our good Markelof. But let me say, neverthe- 
 less, that he is related to Sipiagin only through his wife, 
 whereas you — " 
 
 " Mr. Pakline, I beg of you." 
 
 " Certainly ! — certainly ! — but I can't help feeling sorry, 
 for Sipiagin has so much influence." 
 
 " And aren't you uneasy about yourself ? " asked Solo- 
 mine. 
 
 Pakline bridled up. 
 
 " In a time like the present, one cannot think of one's 
 self," he answered proudly. 
 
 In fact it was about himself that he was thinking in all 
 his projects. 
 
2^)2 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Poor, feeble, little creature that he was, he wanted to 
 get the start of the others, like the hare in the fable. 
 
 In exchange for the services he had rendered him, Sipia- 
 gin might, in case of trouble, say a word in his favor.' 
 For, in truth, whatever he might say, Pakline felt that he 
 was compromised, he had listened — and he had even 
 spoken. 
 
 " Your plan," said Solomine at last, " doesn't seem to be 
 .a bad one, although, to tell the truth, I think there is very 
 little chance of its succeeding. At any rate, one can but 
 try. Whatever happens, you can't do any harm." 
 
 " Exactly ! Taking the most unfavorable view, suppose 
 they kick me out of the house — where is the harm ? " 
 
 " Yes, that would do no harm." 
 
 " Thank you ! " thought Pakline. Solomine went on, 
 " What time is it ? Past four ? There's no time to lose. 
 You shall have forces at once. Paul ! " 
 
 But instead of Paul, it was Neshdanof who came to the 
 door. He could not stand straight, and he was obliged to 
 hold one of the door-posts ; his lips were opened feebly, 
 and he was gazing anxiously forward. He did not under- 
 stand what was going on. 
 
 Pakline first went up to him. 
 
 " Alexis," he said, " you remember me ? " 
 
 Neshdanof looked at him, half shutting his eyes. 
 
 " Pakline ? " he said at last. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; it is I. You are not well ? " 
 
 " No— I'm not very well. But — what are you doing 
 here ? " 
 
 "I ?" 
 
 But at that moment Marianne lightly touched Pakline's 
 elbow. He turned round and saw that she was making 
 signs. " Oh, yes," he murmured, " that's true." 
 
 " I've come, Alexis," he resumed aloud, " on important 
 business, and I'm off at once to continue my journey. 
 Solomine will tell you all about it, and Marianne, Miss 
 Marianne. It's something that concerns us all, that is to 
 say — no, no," he added noticing Marianne's sign and glance, 
 " it's something about Markelof, our friend Markelof alone. 
 But good-by, time is precious, good-by, my friend. We shall 
 
VIRCrN SOIL. 263 
 
 meet soor Mr. Solomine, will you be good enough to 
 come with me to see about the horses ? " 
 
 " Very well, Marianne. I wanted to tell you to be 
 courageous, but I see it ain't necessary. You are of the 
 right stamp." 
 
 " Oh, yes, oh, yes ! " added Pakline approvingly. " You're 
 like a Roman matron of the time of Cato, of Cato of 
 Utica ! But come along, Mr. Solomine, come along ! " 
 
 " You have plenty of time," said Solomine with an in- 
 different smile. 
 
 Neshdanof shrunk to one side to let them pass by, but 
 it was evident that he did not understand anything that 
 was said. Then he stepped forward a couple of paces 
 and dropped gently into a chair, in front of Marianne. 
 
 " Alexis," she said, " everything has been found out ; 
 Markelof has been seized by the peasants, whom he was 
 trying to incite to revolution ; he has been put in the jail 
 at S , as well as that merchant you dined with ; prob- 
 ably the police will be here very soon, after us. Pakline 
 has gone to the Sipiagins." 
 
 " What for ? " muttered Neshdanof in a barely audible 
 voice. 
 
 But his eyes became brighter, his face wore again its 
 usual expression. His intoxication had entirely left 
 him. 
 
 " To try to secure his protection." 
 
 Neshdanof straightened himself up. 
 
 " For us ? " 
 
 " No, for Markelof. He wanted to speak in our behalf 
 too, but I forbade him. Was I right, Alexis ? " 
 
 " Right ? " said Alexis, holding out both hands without 
 rising from his chair. " Right ? " he repeated, drawing 
 her toward him, and pressing his face against her he burst 
 into tears. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter ? " cried Marianne. 
 
 As she had done that other time when he fell at her feet, 
 overcome, speechless with a sudden gust of passion, she 
 placed both hands on the quivering head of the young 
 man. But her present feeling was very different from what 
 she had then felt. Then, she resigned herself to him, she 
 
2 64 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 submitted and awaited his decision ; now, she pitied him 
 and thought only of calming him. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " she repeated. " Why do you 
 weep ? Is it because you came home in .such a state ? No, 
 it can't be that. Is it because you are sorry for Markelof, 
 or that you are afraid for me and for yourself ? Do you 
 regret our shattered hopes ? But you couldn't expect 
 everything to go as if it had been oiled." 
 
 Neshdanof raised his head quickly. 
 
 " No, Marianne," he said, swallowing his sobs, " I'm not 
 afraid for you, nor for myself — but, to tell the truth — I am 
 sorry for — " 
 
 " For whom ? " 
 
 " For you, Marianne ; you, who have united your fate 
 with that of a man who was not worthy of you." 
 
 " How so ? " 
 
 " Well, because, for instance, at a time like this, that 
 man can be crying." 
 
 " It's not you who are crying ; it's your nerves." 
 
 " My nerves and I are one. Come, Marianne, look me 
 in the eye ; can you honestly say that you don't regret ?" 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " Having run off with me ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " And you would do it again ? Anywhere ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " Really, Marianne — you would ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I gave you my hand, and so long as you are he 
 whom I loved, I shall not withdraw it." 
 
 Neshdanof was still sitting on the chair ; Marianne was 
 standing in front of him. He had both hands around her 
 waist and she had placed hers upon his shoulders. 
 
 " Yes— no— " thought Neshdanof, " and yet before, 
 when I held her in my arms, as I do now, her body at least 
 was motionless ; whereas now I notice that she gently, 
 involuntarily, perhaps, draws back from me." 
 
 He opened his arms, and in fact Marianne fell back a 
 barely imperceptible degree. 
 
 " Listen," he said aloud ; " if we must take to flight be- 
 fore the pohce finds us, I think it would be well if we 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 265 
 
 were to be married first. Perhaps we shan't be able to 
 find another priest as accommodating as Zossime. 
 " I'm ready," said Marianne." 
 Neshdanof looked at her attentively. 
 " Roman maiden ! " he said with a bitter smile. " The 
 Bense of duty ! " 
 Marianne shrugged her shoulders. 
 " We must speak to Solomine about it." 
 " Ah, yes — to Solomine — " said Neshdanof slowly. 
 " But ■ he too, I suppose, is in danger from the police. It 
 seems to me that he plays a more important part than I, 
 and that he knows a great deal more about it." 
 
 " I don't know," answered Marianne. " He never talks 
 about himself." 
 
 " Unlike me," thought Neshdanof ; " that's what she 
 means. Solomine," he added after a long silence ; " you 
 see, Marianne, I should not have complained if the man to 
 whom you had given yourself for life had been a Solomine, 
 or if it had been Solomine himself." 
 
 Marianne in her turn Iboked at Neshdanof attentively. 
 
 " You have no right to say that," she said finally. 
 
 " No right ? How am I to understand that ? Do you 
 mean that you love me, or that, in general, the question 
 should not be discussed ? " 
 
 " You had no right,'' repeated Marianne. 
 
 Neshdanof lowered his head. 
 
 " Marianne ! " he said with a half-choking voice. 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " If now — if I were to ask you — you know ? no, I shall 
 not ask anything .of you. Good-by ! " 
 
 He rose and went into the other room. Marianne did 
 not detain him; Neshdanof sat down on a sofa and buried 
 his face in his hands. He was terrified by his own 
 thoughts, and did his best to avoid thinking. He had a 
 strange feeling, as if an obscure, mysterious hand had taken 
 a deep hold on his being and was never going to let go. 
 He knew that the dear girl in the next room, close by, 
 would never leave it to look for him, and that he would 
 never go to her. Besides, what would be the use ? What 
 could he have said to her ? 
 
266 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Firm, quick steps made him open his eyes. Solomine 
 was crossing the room. He knocked at the door of Mari- 
 anne's room and went in. 
 
 " Salute and retire," murmured Neshdanof bitterly. 
 
 He had involuntarily recalled the words one sentinel 
 uses in relieving another. 
 
XXXIV. 
 
 IT was ten o'clock in the evening, and in the drawing- 
 room of Arjanoie, Sipiagin, his wife, and Kallomeitsef 
 were playing cards, when a footman entered to announce 
 the visit of a stranger, a Mr. Pakline, who was very anxious 
 to see Mr. Sipiagin on very urgent business of the greatest 
 importance. 
 
 "As late as this?" said Mme. Sipiagin with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " What," said Sipiagin, curving his classic nostrils, " what 
 did you say was the gentleman's name ? " 
 
 " He said Pakhne." 
 
 " Pakline ! " exclaimed Kallomeitsef. " Pakline, Solo- 
 mine ! De vrais iwms ruraux, hein ? " he added in French.* 
 
 " And you say," continued Sipiagan, turning to the foot- 
 man his nose, which he still held in the air, " that it is on 
 important business ? " 
 
 " So the gentleman said." 
 
 " Hum ! it's probably some beggar, or some swindler" ("or 
 both at once," Kallomeitsef slipped in). " Very probably. 
 Show him into my study. " He arose. " Excuse me, my 
 dear — while you're waiting you might play a game of 
 6carte, or you can wait for me. I'll be back at once." 
 
 " We will talk, go ahead ! " said Kallomeitsef. 
 
 When Sipiagin entered his study and saw Pakline's piti- 
 ful little figure leaning against the wall between the door 
 and the window, he was seized with just that official feeHng 
 of haughty pity and somewhat wearied condescension 
 which distinguishes the great dignitaries of St. Petersburg, 
 
 " Heavens ! he looks like a plucked bird," thought he, 
 " and I believe he limps, into the bargain." 
 
 * Paltlin means tow, and Solotna, straw, in Russian. — TV. 
 
 267 
 
268 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " Sit down ! " he said, quite loud, in his most affable 
 baritone, tossing back his little head benevolently, and tak- 
 ing a chair in front of his guest. " You must be tired from 
 your drive ; sit down and tell me what important business 
 has brought you at this time of night." 
 
 "Your Excellency," began Pakline, sitting down very 
 gently in an arm-chair, " I have taken the liberty of intrud- 
 ing upon you — " 
 
 "Wait a moment," interrupted Sipiagin. " I have seen 
 you before. I never forget a face I have ever seen ; I have 
 an excellent memory. But — but where have I met 
 you ? " 
 
 " You are quite right, your Excellency. I had the honor 
 of meeting you at St. Petersburg, at the room of a man 
 who, since then, has been unfortunate enough to incur your 
 wrath." 
 
 Sipiagin hastily arose from his chair. 
 
 " At Mr. Neshdanof's. I remember now. It is not from 
 him, I hope, that you have come ? " 
 
 " Not at all, your Excellency ; quite the contrary." 
 
 Sipiagin sat down again. 
 
 " That's very fortunate, for in that case, I should have 
 begged of you to leave immediately. No go-between can 
 be permitted to interfere in this matter. Mr. Neshdanof 
 has inflicted upon me one of those insults which can never 
 be forgotten. I scorn revenge ; but I wish to know noth- 
 ing about him or that young woman whose mind is in fact 
 more depraved than her heart " (this was at least the thir- 
 tieth time Sipiagin had used this expression since Mari- 
 aune's flight). "Who did not shrink from leaving this 
 roof when she had found shelter to become the mistress of 
 a low-born vagabond. Let it be enough for them that I 
 forget them ! " 
 
 With the last few words he waved his hand as if he were 
 pushing something away. 
 
 " That I forget them, sir ! " he repeated. 
 
 " Your Excellency, I have had the honor of assuring 
 you that I did not come for them, although it is true I 
 might inform your Excellency that they have been united 
 in the bonds of lawful matrimony." (" Bah ! " he thought, 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 269 
 
 " I said I should talk nonsense, and now I have. Happen 
 what will.") 
 
 Sipiagin lolled his neck from one side to the other on the 
 back of his chair. 
 
 " That doesn't concern me the least in the world, my 
 dear sir. Another foolish marriage, and that is all ! But 
 what has all this to do with the urgent business to which I 
 owe the pleasure of your visit ? " 
 
 " Wait a moment, you cursed provincial official," thought 
 Pakline again. " I'll teach you to put on airs, with your 
 ugly English mug ! " 
 
 " Your wife's brother, Mr. Markelof," he said aloud, " has 
 been arrested by the peasants, whom he was inciting to re- 
 volt, and is now locked up in the governor's house." 
 
 Sipiagin gave a start. 
 
 " What — what do you say ? " he stammered, no longer 
 in his official baritone, but, as it were, catching his breath. 
 
 " I say that your brother-in-law has been arrested, and 
 that he is now in jail. As soon as I heard this I took 
 horses and started off to bring you the news. I thought I 
 might be of some service to you and to the unlucky man 
 whom you may save." 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you," said Sipiagin, with 
 the same uncertain voice ; he struck with the palm of his 
 hand a mushroom-shaped clock-bell which filled the house 
 with its metallic ring. " I am very much obliged," he re- 
 peated in a more assured voice ; " but understand that a 
 man who dares to trample all laws both human and divine 
 beneath his feet, were he a hundred times my relative, is 
 not in my eyes an unlucky man, he is a criminal." 
 
 A footman came running into the study. 
 
 " What is it you want, sir ? " 
 
 " A carriage, at once, and four horses. I'm going to the 
 town. Philip and Stephen will go with me." 
 
 The footman vanished. 
 
 " Yes, sir," continued Sipiagin, " my brother-in-law is a 
 criminal ; I go to the town, but not to save him ; oh, no ! " 
 
 " But, your Excellency — " 
 
 " These are my principles, my dear sir, and I beg of you 
 not to trouble and annoy me with your objections." 
 
270 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Sipiagin began to walk up and down his study. Pakline 
 looked at hiin with staring eyes. " The devil ! " he was 
 thinking to himself, " they said you were a liberal, and you 
 are going about like a ' roaring lion.' " 
 
 The door opened wide, and they saw first Valentine 
 enter hastily, and then Kallomei'tsef. 
 
 " What does this mean, Boris ? You have ordered a 
 carriage ? You are going to town ? What has happened ? " 
 
 Sipiagin went up to his wife, and took hold of her right 
 arm between the elbow and the wrist. 
 
 " You must not be alarmed, my dear," he said in French. 
 " Your brother has been arrested." 
 
 " My brother ! Serge ! What for ? " 
 
 " He has been preaching socialism to the peasants." 
 (Kallomei'tsef uttered a plaintive groan.) " Yes, he has 
 been preaching revolution to them. He has been trying 
 to get converts. The peasants arrested him and gave him 
 up to justice. Now he is locked up in the town." 
 
 " Oh, the unlucky fool ! But who told you ? " 
 
 " This gentleman here. Mr. ? What is his name ? 
 
 Mr. Konopatine has just informed us."* 
 
 Valentine looked at Pakline who bowed meekly. " What 
 a superb woman ! " he thought. It will be noticed that 
 even at the most critical moments Pakline remained suscep- 
 tible to the charms of female beauty. 
 
 " And you want to go to town when it's so late ? " 
 
 " I shall find the governor up." 
 
 " I always said that would be the end of it," exclaimed 
 Kallomei'tsef. " It couldn't be otherwise. But what capi- 
 tal fellows those Russian peasants are ! It's wonderful. 
 Pardon, madame" he added in Yrervch, ^^ c' est votre frire. 
 But truth before everything." 
 
 " But seriously, Boris, do you want to go ? " asked Valen- 
 tine again. 
 
 " I'd be willing to bet," continued Kallome'i'tsef, " that, 
 that other man, the little tutor, Mr. Neshdanof, is impli- 
 cated too. I'd stake my life on it. They are all tarred 
 with the same stick. Hasn't he been arrested ? Don't you 
 know ? " 
 
 * Konopatine in Russian means to cram with tow. — Tr. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 271 
 
 Sipiagin again made the gesture of pushing something 
 away with his hand. 
 
 " I don't know anything about him, and I don't care to. 
 By the way," he added, turning to his wife, " it seems that 
 they are married." 
 
 "Who told you? He?" 
 
 She looked at Pakline again ; this time, half closing her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Yes, he." 
 
 " In that case," cried Kallomeitsef, " he must know where 
 they are. Do you know where they are ? Do you know ? 
 eh ? eh ? Do you know ? " 
 
 While talking thus, he danced first on one side ot Pak- 
 line and then on the other, as if to prevent his passing by, 
 although there was no sign of his trying to escape. 
 
 " But tell me ! answer me ! eh ? Do you know ? Do 
 you know ? " 
 
 Pakline finally felt his blood rising ; his little eyes flashed; 
 he answered angrily : 
 
 " Even if I did know, sir, I should not tell you." 
 
 " Oh, ho ! " said Kallomeitsef, " you hear — you hear ? But 
 this fellow must be one of them, too." 
 
 " The carriage is ready," said a footma!n opening the 
 door. 
 
 Sipiagin seized his hat with an energetic but elegant 
 gesture ; but Valentine besought him so urgently to wait 
 until the next morning, she brought forward such good 
 reasons : that night had fallen, that everybody in town 
 would be in bed, that it would only ruin his nerves, that he 
 might catch cold, that, finally, Sipiagin let himself be per- 
 suaded, and exclaimed : 
 
 " I submit." 
 
 And with a gesture no less elegant, but not at all ener- 
 getic, he put his hat down on the table. 
 
 " You can send the carriage back," he ordered the foot- 
 man, "but let it be ready to-morrow morning at six punc- 
 tually. You understand ? Well, go ! — wait a moment ! 
 Dismiss Mr. this gentleman's, carriage ! Pay the coach- 
 man ! What ? Did you say anything, Mr. Konopatine ? 
 I'll take you with me to-morrow morning, Mr. Konopatine ' 
 
.-J 2 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 What do you say ? I can't hear. You'll take some brandy, 
 won't you ? Give Mr. Konopatine some brandy ! No ! you 
 won't take any ? That's another thing. Feodor ! Show this 
 gentleman to the green chamber. Good night, Mr. Kono — " 
 
 Pakline could restrain himself no longer. 
 
 " Pakline ! " here he roared in a voice of thunder. " My 
 name is Pakline ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes ; it's the same thing ; it makes no differ- 
 ence, you know. But what a voice you have, and you look 
 so weak ! Well, I'll see you to-morrow, Mr. Pakline. 
 Am I right this time ? Simeon, you will come with us ? " 
 he added in French to Kallomeitsef. 
 
 " Of course, I'm coming." 
 
 They led Pakline to the green room, and they even locked 
 him in. While he was undressing he heard the key turn 
 in the English lock. He cursed his plan, which was such 
 an inspiration of genius, and enjoyed very uneasy slumbers. 
 ' The next morning, at half-past five he was aroused. 
 They brought him his coffee, and, while he was drinking 
 it, the footman, who was decorated with many-colored 
 shoulder knots, stood watching him, with his waiter in his 
 hands, resting first on one foot and then on another, as if 
 he were saying, " Come, hurry, hurry, the gentlemen are 
 waiting for you ! " Then they showed him down. The 
 carriage was already at the door, as well as Kallomeiftsef's 
 wagon. 
 
 Sipiagin came out on the steps, wrapped in a woolen 
 cloak with a rounded collar. For a long time these cloaks 
 had not been worn by any one except a certain very high 
 personage, to whom Sipiagin paid court, and whom he tried 
 to imitate. On official and important occasions he never 
 forgot this cloak. 
 
 He saluted Pakline civilly, and pointing quickly to the 
 cushion of the carriage asked him to sit there. 
 
 " Mr. Pakline, you are coming with me, Mr, Pakline. 
 Put Mr. Pakline's carpet-bag on the seat ! I'm going to 
 take Mr. Pakline ! " he said, throwing the accent on the a 
 of his name. " So," he seemed to be trying to convey ! 
 " you are cursed with a name like that, and you are angry 
 because people change it ! Well, you can get your fill of 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 273 
 
 it now ! Stuff yourself with it ! Mr. Pakline, Mr. Pak- 
 line ! " This unfortunate name resounded perpetually in 
 the cool morning air. 
 
 The air was so cool that Kallomeitsef, who came out 
 just behind Sipiagin, said a great many times, " Brr, brr, 
 brr ! " like a Frenchman, and wrapped himself more 
 warmly in his cloak as he got into his elegant open wagon. 
 (When his poor friend, Prince Michael Obrenovitch of 
 Servia saw this wagon, he bought one just like it of Bin- 
 der. "You know Binder, the great carriage-maker on the 
 Champs-Elys6es.") 
 
 Meanwhile, Valentine, " in cap and gown of night," * 
 was looking at them through the half-open shutters. 
 
 Sipiagin got into the carriage and waved his hand to her. 
 
 " Are you quite comfortable, Mr. Pakline ? Go ahead ! " 
 
 " I intrust my brother to you ; be gentle with him," 
 said Valentine. 
 
 " Don't be uneasy," answered Kallomeitsef, casting 
 toward her a calm glance from beneath the edge of his 
 traveling-cap, on the top of which was a cockade — this was 
 his semi-official cap, which he had himself devised. " It's 
 the other we shall have to catch ! Go on," he ordered 
 again ; " you are not cold, Mr. Pakline ? Go on ! " 
 
 The carriages started. 
 
 During the first part of the way, both Sipiagin and Pak- 
 line kept silence. Poor Sila, with his shabby overcoat and 
 his worn-out cap, looked even more pitiful than ever against 
 the dark blue ground of rich silk with which the carriage 
 was lined. 
 
 He looked quietly at the delicate blue curtains which 
 rolled up so quickly when a spring was touched, and at the 
 white, curly, sheep's wool foot-warmer into which he stuck 
 his feet ; and at the little red wooden box, fastened on the 
 front of the carriage, whence fell a little tablet for writing, 
 and even a rest for a book. (Sipiagin used to like, or 
 rather he wanted to make people think he liked to work 
 in his carriage, as M. Thiers does on journeys.) 
 
 Pakline felt ill at ease. Sipiagin glanced at him twi<;e 
 
 * A line from Poushkine. 
 
 i8 
 
274 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 out of the corner of his eye over the edge of his smoothly- 
 shaven cheek, and then with impressive slowness he drew 
 from his side pocket a silver cigar-case, richly decorated 
 with a monogram in Slavonic characters, and offered him, 
 yes, he positively offered him a cigar, which he held be- 
 tween the second and third fingers of his hand, which was 
 protected by yellow English dog-skin gloves. 
 
 " I — I don't smoke," stammered Pakline. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Sipiagin, and he lit himself the cigar, a de- 
 licious regalia. 
 
 " I must tell you, dear Mr. Pakline," he said politely, 
 blowing out with little puffs delicate waving lines of fra- 
 grant smoke, " that I am really very much obliged to 
 you. Last evening I may have seemed a little harsh to 
 you — that is not — not my usual way " (Sipiagin cut up his 
 sentences in this way designedly), " I can assure you. 
 But, Mr. Pakline, just put yourself in my — my position." 
 (Sipiagin here rolled his cigar to the other corner of his 
 mouth.) " My position makes me — what shall I say ? 
 prominent ; and suddenly — my wife's brother — compro- 
 mises himself, and compromises me — me too in the most 
 incredible way. What do you say to that, Mr. Pakline ? 
 You think, perhaps, that no very serious matter ? " 
 
 " I don't think so at all, your Excellency." 
 
 " You don't know exactly why nor when he was ar- 
 rested ? " 
 
 " I have heard that it was in the district of T ." 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 " A— a man." 
 
 " Of course it wasn't a bird. But who was the man ? " 
 
 " The assistant of the manager of the governor's court." 
 
 " What is his name ? " 
 
 " Of the manager ? " 
 
 " No, the assistant." 
 
 " His name is Ouliachevitch. He's a very conscientious 
 official, your Excellency. As soon as I heard of this affair 
 I hastened to bring word to you." 
 
 " Yes, exactly, and I tell you again that I'm very much 
 obliged to you. But what nonsense it all is, Mr. Pakline, 
 isn't it ? ' 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 275 
 
 " The most utter nonsense ! " exclaimed Pakline, who 
 felt a cold sweat rolling like a small damp snake down his 
 back. " It's a totally mistaken idea of the Russian peas- 
 ant. Mr. Markelof, so far as I know him, has a good and 
 really noble heart, but he has never understood the Russian 
 peasant." Pakline gave a quick glance at Sipiagin, who was 
 half turned toward him, and was looking at him with a 
 cold but not hostile expression. " Those who want to in- 
 cite our peasants to revolution can only do it by making use 
 of their devotion to the imperial power and family. They 
 would have to devise some story like that of the false 
 Demetrius who should show on his breast the imperial mark 
 which he branded them with, a red-hot kopeck." 
 
 "Yes, yes, like Pougatchef," interrupted Sipiagin, with an 
 air which said, " Don't be too learned ; other people know 
 their history, too." And repeating again, " It's nonsense, 
 perfect nonsense ! " he seemed to busy himself once more 
 in contemplation of the line of smoke which rose rapidly 
 from the end of his cigar. 
 
 "Your Excellency," said Pakline, with a Httle more 
 confidence, " I told you just now that I did not smoke, but 
 that was not true. I do smoke, and your cigar is so fra- 
 grant — " 
 
 " Eh ! what ! What did you say ? " said Sipiagin, as if 
 he had been waked up from a deep sleep, and without giv- 
 ing Pakline time to repeat what he had said (a proof that 
 he had understood him perfectly and only pretended 
 not to have heard him), he offered him his open cigar- 
 case. 
 
 Pakline modestly lit a cigar, with a grateful air. " I take 
 it, this would be a favorable moment," he thought. 
 
 But Sipiagin anticipated him. 
 
 " You said something, I believe," he began, with an air 
 of indifference, and with frequent pauses to look at his cigar, 
 to puff out his cheeks, and to push his cap over his face 
 from the back of his head, "you said something, didn't 
 you — you spoke about your other friend, the one who mar- 
 ried my — relative. You've seen them ? They are living 
 near here ? " 
 
 "Ha, ha ! " thorght Pakline. " Sila, my boy, take care !" 
 
276 vijS-gin soil. 
 
 " I have only seen them once, your Excellency. They 
 are living in fact not very far from here." 
 
 " Of course you understand," resumed Sipiagin in the 
 same way, " that, as I said, I can't take any serious interest 
 in that thoughtless girl nor in your friend. Heavens ! I'm 
 not prejudiced, but you must see it's a ridiculous business ; 
 it's too stupid. Besides, I can't help thinking that what 
 brought them together was politics — politics ! " he repeated, 
 shrugging his shoulders, " rather than any other feeling." 
 
 " I think so too, your Excellency." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Neshdanof was a real radical. I ought to do 
 him the justice of saying that he never concealed his opin- 
 ions." 
 
 " Neshdanof," Pakline ventured to say, " has possibly let 
 himself be led away ; but his heart — " 
 
 " He has a good heart," interrupted Sipiagin ; " of course, 
 of course : just like Markelof. All these gentlemen have 
 very good hearts. Probably he too had something to do 
 with this matter, and will be caught. Something ought to 
 be done for him." 
 
 Pakline pressed his two hands upon his breast. 
 
 " Ah ! yes, yes, your Excellency ! Grant him your pro- 
 tection ! He deserves it — I assure you — he deserves your 
 sympathy." 
 
 " Ahem ! " sighed Sipiagin ; " do you think so ? " 
 
 " And if not for himself, do it for your niece, his wife. 
 (Good God ! what fibs I'm telling !" said Pakline to himself 
 once more.) 
 
 Sipiagin half closed his eyes. 
 
 " You are a most devoted friend, I see clearly. That is 
 very proper, and very praiseworthy of you. So you say 
 that they live very near here ? " 
 
 " Yes, your Excellency ; in a large establishment — " 
 
 Pakline bit his tongue. 
 
 " So ; at Solomine's ! exactly ! Besides, I knew that ; 
 people had been talking about it ; yes, they had said so — 
 yes ! " Sipiagin had no previous notion of it, and no one 
 had breathed a word about it ; but recalling Solomine's 
 visit and their nocturnal interviews, he threw out this bait, 
 and Pakline swallowed it. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 277 
 
 " Since you know — " he began, then he stoppea aud bit 
 his tongue again, but it was too late ; a glance which Sipi- 
 agin cast at him showed him that throughout the whole 
 conversation, Sipiagin had been playing with him as a cat 
 plays with a mouse. 
 
 " Besides, your Excellency," the poor wretch stammered, 
 " I must tell you that in fact I know nothing at all — " 
 
 " But I haven't asked you anything. Come ! what does 
 this mean ? For whom do you take us ? " haughtily ex- 
 claimed Sipiagin, putting on again his official supercilious- 
 ness. 
 
 And Pakline felt again very humble and wretched, as if 
 he had been caught and muzzled. Until that moment he 
 ha 1 been smoking with the cigar in the further corner of his 
 mouth, and he had been gently puffing the smoke out as 
 if by stealth, but then he took the cigar from his lips and 
 stopped smoking entirely. 
 
 " Good God ! " he moaned, while bathed in a cold 
 sweat. " What have I done ? I have betrayed everything 
 and everybody ! They have humbugged me, and bought 
 me with a good cigar ! I'm an informer ! and how, good 
 Lord, can I mend the mischief now .' " 
 
 It was too late now, however, to lepair the evil. Sipia- 
 gin had fallen asleep in a dignified arid serious way, like a 
 real minister, wrapped up in his robes of office. Besides, 
 a quarter of an hour later, the two carriages stopped before 
 the governor's house. 
 
XXXV. 
 
 THE governor of S was one of those good-natured, 
 careless, and worldly generals, with white, neat, clean 
 skin, and a soul almost as clean as their body ; they are gen- 
 erally well-born, well brought up, and with qualities well 
 kneaded together like good wheat bread ; without any in- 
 tention of becoming leaders of men, they find themselves 
 very tolerable officials ; they do not work very hard, they 
 sigh continually for St. Petersburg, and pay court to the 
 pretty women of the provinces ; they are of undeniable 
 service to their government, and leave very kindly memories 
 behind them. 
 
 He had just got out of bed ; and, arrayed in a silk dress- 
 ing-gown, with his night-shirt unbuttoned, he was sitting 
 before his shaving-glass, washing his face and neck with 
 water perfumed with cologne, having first removed a whole 
 collection of images and scapularies, when word was 
 brought him that Sipiagin and Kallomeitsef had come to 
 see him on very urgent business. 
 
 He knew Sipiagin very well ; they had been on most in- 
 timate terms since their tenderest infancy ; they had fre- 
 quently met in St. Petersburg drawing-rooms, and for some 
 time, whenever Sipiagin's name occurred to him, he in- 
 variably added a respectful " Ah ! " as he would to a fu- 
 ture high official. 
 
 He knew Kallomeitsef less well, and thought much less 
 highly of him ; for some time he had been hearing disa- 
 greeable complaints about him ; but he thought of him as 
 one who would rise in the world, in one way or another. 
 
 He sent word to his visitors to step into his office, and 
 he soon joined them, still in his dressing-gown. He did 
 not even apologize for receiving them in so informal a 
 dress, and shook hands with them politely. 
 
 278 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. z'l^ 
 
 Pa'kline had not followed the two others into the gover- 
 nor's office ; he was waiting in the parlor. As he got out 
 of the carriage he tried to get away under pretense of 
 business at home ; but Sipiagin had detained him with 
 polite firmness, while Kallomeltsef came running up all 
 out of breath, and whispered in the ear of his friend Boris, 
 " Don't let him go ! Thunder and Mars ! " and had made 
 him go up with them. Still, Sipiagin had not taken him 
 into the office, but with the same polite firmness, he had 
 asked him to sit down in the parlor and wait till he should 
 be called. 
 
 Pakline, when he was left alone, thought again of 
 running away, but a sturdy gendarme, who had been 
 sent by Kallomeltsef, appeared at the door. Pakli-xe 
 stayed. 
 
 " I suppose you can guess what has brought me, Vladi- 
 mir ? " said Sipiagin to the governor. 
 
 " No, my dear friend, I cannot," answered the kindly 
 epicurean, while a polite smile rounded his rosy cheeks, 
 showing his glistening teeth, half concealed by silky mus- 
 t3.cn.ps 
 
 " What ? But has Markelof— " 
 
 "What Markelof?" repeated the governor with the 
 same expression. 
 
 He had an indistinct recollection that the person who 
 had been arrested the evening before was named Markelof, 
 and he had completely forgotten that Mme. Sipiagin had 
 a brother of that name. 
 
 " But won't you sit down, Boris ? " he went on ; " take a 
 chair ; won't you take a cup of tea ? " 
 
 Sipiagin had something very different in his head. Fi- 
 nally, when he had told his story and explained why 
 Kallomeltsef and he had come to see him, the governor ut- 
 tered an expression of grief ; he struck his forehead with 
 his hand, and his face looked sincerely pained. 
 
 " Yes, yes 1 " he repeated. " What a terrible thing ! 
 He's still here, provisionally ; you know we keep them 
 only one night ; only the chief of police is not in town to- 
 day, that's why. your brother-in-law is still here. But he'll 
 be sent off to-morrow. Heavens, what a painful piece of 
 
286 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 business ! How your wife must suffei ! What can 1 do 
 for you ? " 
 
 " I should like to have an interview with him here, if the 
 law permits." 
 
 " What, my friend ! Laws were not made for people 
 like you. I'm sure I sympathize with your distress. It's 
 dreadful, you know." 
 
 He gave a certain signal with his bell. An aide-de- 
 camp appeared. 
 
 " Dear baron, if you please, will you have the kindness — " 
 he whispered what he wanted him to do. The baron dis- 
 appeared. " Only think, my dear friend, the peasants 
 nearly killed him. They tied his hands behind his back, 
 and off they went with him. And as for him, he doesn't 
 seem angry, or as if he took it ill, upon my word ! He's 
 perfectly calm — I was exceedingly surprised. But then 
 you'll see him. He's one of the quiet fanatics." 
 
 " Those are the worst kind," said Kallomeitsef senten- 
 tiously. 
 
 The govetaor looked at him rather severely. 
 
 " By the way, I've something to say to you, Simeon 
 Petrovitch." 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " It's a sad thing." 
 
 " But what is it ? " 
 
 " You remember the peasant who owed you money and 
 who came here to make a complaint ? " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " He's hung himself." 
 
 ;' When ? " 
 
 '' It makes no difference when ; but it's a sad piece of 
 business." 
 
 Kallomeitsef shrugged his shoulders, and walked off 
 toward the window, with an indifferent air. 
 
 The aide-de-camp returned, accompanied by Markelof. 
 
 The governor had spoken truly ; Markelof was wonder- 
 fully calm. The gloom which usually sat upon his face 
 had been succeeded by an expression of weary indifference. 
 There was no change when he saw his brother-in-law, but 
 when he cast a quick glance at the German aide-de-camp 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 25 1 
 
 who had brought him in, there could be seen in his eyes a 
 last spark of the old hate with which that class of men in- 
 spired him. 
 
 His coat was torn in two places, and roughly darned with 
 coarse thread ; on his forehead, eyebrows, and nose, were 
 scars and traces of coagulated blood. He had not washed 
 his face, but he had combed his hair. He stood still near 
 the door with his hands buried in his sleeves. His breath- 
 ing was regular. 
 
 " Serge ! " said Sipiagin in a broken voice, taking two 
 steps toward him, and holding out his hand just so as to 
 touch him or to stop him if he should come forward : 
 " Serge, I haven't come here to tell you about our surprise 
 and great grief, for you cannot doubt of them. You wanted 
 ,0 ruin yourself and you have succeeded. But I wanted 
 to see you, to make you — ahem ! — to give you an opportu- 
 nity to listen to the voice of reason, of honor, of friendship ! 
 You can still alleviate your lot, and I will do my share. 
 See, here is the honorable head of our government, who 
 will confirm all I have said." 
 
 Here Sipiagin raised his voice. 
 
 " Sincere repentance for the past, full and free confession, 
 which will be forwarded to those who — " 
 
 " Your Excellency," said Markelof suddenly, turning 
 toward the governor — his voice was calm but a little husky 
 — " I thought you wanted to see me to resume the examina- 
 tion. But if you have only had me brought here at Mr. 
 Sipiagin's request, I beg that you will send me back again. 
 We can come to no agreement. Everything he says is 
 Greek to me." 
 
 " Excuse me — Greek ! " interrupted Kallomeitsef in a 
 harsh, high voice. " Is it Greek to stir up the peasants ? 
 Is it Greek, eh ? Is it Greek ? " 
 
 " Your Excellency, is that man one of the secret police ? 
 He's so zealous ! " said Markelof, while a faint smile of 
 pleasure lit up his pallid lips. 
 
 Kallomeitsef ground his teeth and stamped his foot. 
 The governor stopped him. 
 
 " It's your own fault. Why do yfivt meddle in what 
 doesn't concern you ? " 
 
282 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 •' That doesn't concern me ! That doesn't concern me ! 
 It seems to me it concerns all of us gentlemen ! " 
 
 Markelof threw a slow, scornful glance at Kallomei'tsef, 
 as if it was the last look he should ever give him, then he 
 turned a little toward Sipiagin. 
 
 " As for you, my dear brother-in-law, if you want me to 
 explain my ideas to you, here they are : I acknowledge 
 that the peasants are quite justified in arresting me and 
 handing me over to the authorities, since my words dis- 
 pleased them. They were perfectly free to do as they did. 
 I went to them, they did not come to me. And if I am 
 sent to Siberia I shall not complain, although I think my- 
 self innocent. The government is doing its duty, it is de- 
 fending itself ! Doesn't that satisfy you ? " 
 
 Sipiagin raised his hands high. 
 
 " Doesn't that satisfy me ? what an expression. That is 
 not the question, and it is not for us to judge what the 
 government may think it proper to do ; but I want to 
 know if you understand, my dear Serge " (here he touched 
 emotional chords) "the inconsistency, the folly of this at- 
 tempt ; if you are ready to give some sign of repentance, 
 and if, up to a certain point, I can answer for you. Serge ? " 
 
 Markelof knit his thick brows. 
 
 " I have spoken, and I don't care to go over it again." 
 
 " But your repentance— how about that ? " 
 
 Markelof burst out violently. 
 
 " Don't bother about repentance ! You want to find 
 out my heart's secret ? That's my own affair. Leave me 
 alone, please." 
 
 Sipiagin shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " You are always the same ; you will not listen to the 
 voice of reason ! You might get out of this scrape hon- 
 orably, without any scandal." 
 
 " Honorably, without any scandal ! " repeated Markelof 
 grimly. " We know what that means. Such expressions 
 are always used when any villainy is proposed. That's their 
 real meaning." 
 
 " We pity you," said Sipiagin, continuing to argue with 
 Markelof, " and you hate us — " 
 
 " Tender pity ' You send us to Siberia, to prison, that's 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 283 
 
 the way you show your pity ! Oh, leave me alone, in 
 Heaven's name ! " 
 
 And Markelof bowed his head. 
 
 In spite of his external calm he was exceedingly agitated. 
 What was torturing and chafing him more than anything 
 else was that he had been betrayed — by whom ? By Ere- 
 mei of Galapliok ! By that Eremei, in whom he had so 
 blindly trusted ? 
 
 That Mendelei Dontik had not followed him, did not 
 surprise him — Mendelei was a drunkard, and consequently 
 a coward. But Eremei, EremeT, who had been for Marke- 
 lof the very personification of the Russian people ' It was 
 he who had betrayed him. 
 
 So all of Markelof's efforts had been without rhyme oi 
 reason ! So Kisliakof had only talked nonsense ! So 
 Vassili Nicholaivitch had given absurd orders, and all 
 the articles, and pamphlets, and socialist and free-think- 
 ing books, every line of which seemed something plain and 
 absolute — were all a snare and a delusion ! Was it possi- 
 ble ? and that comparison about the ripe abscess, was that 
 mere verbiage ? 
 
 " No, no," he murmured to himself, while a light flush 
 crept over his bronzed cheeks ; " no, it's all true — and it is 
 my fault ; I haven't said or done what was right ; I ought to 
 have simply given my orders, and if any one resisted, have 
 lodged a ball in his head, without any further remark. 
 Whoever is not with us is unworthy to live — one does a 
 good service in shooting down spies like dogs and worse 
 things yet." 
 
 And Markelof went over in his mind the events of his 
 work : At first the silence of the peasants, then their wink- 
 ing at one another, the shouts of those on the outside. Then 
 a peasant, who came up one side as if he were going to 
 make a Idow to him. Then a sudden scuffle, and he, 
 Markelof, was knocked down. " My friends, my friends, 
 what are you doing ? " And they. " Quick, a rope ! Tie 
 him ! " Then his bones cracking, and impotent rage, 
 vile dust in his mouth and nostrils. " Turn him over, put 
 him in the telega ! " A great roar of laughter — oh, the 
 hideous thing ! 
 
284 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " I didn't manage right, I didn't manage right." 
 
 That is what was tormenting and racking him. That he 
 Aad been thrashed was simply a personal misfortune, which 
 had no connection with the common undertaking — that 
 could be endured — but Eremei, Ereme'i ! 
 
 While Markelof was standing thus with his head sunk 
 on his breast, Sipiagin drew the governor to one side, and 
 whispered to him with little quiet gestures, tapping his fore- 
 nead with two fingers, as if to say, "You know, the poor 
 icllow isn't quite right there," trying to arouse if not sym- 
 pathy, at least pity for the unfortunate creature. 
 
 And the governor shrugged his shoulders, opening and 
 closing his eyes alternately ; he regretted his powerlessness, 
 and finally promised something. 
 
 " Every consideration, certainly every consideration,' he 
 lisped politely through his perfumed mustaches. 
 
 While they were talking in the corner, Kallomeitsef had 
 great difficulty in keeping quiet ; he moved restlessly, he 
 smacked his tongue, coughed, and in a word he showed 
 every sign of impatience. Finally he could stand it no longer, 
 and going up to Sipiagin, he whispered quickly in his ear : 
 
 " You've forgotten the other ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " answered Sipiagin aloud ; " thank you for re- 
 minding me. I must bring the following circumstances to 
 the knowledge of your Excellency," he said addressing the 
 governor. 
 
 He used this formal language with his friend Vladimir, 
 in order not to impair the majesty of authority in the 
 presence of an insurgent. " Certain facts have led me to 
 the supposition that my brother-in-law's foolish attempts 
 must have ramifications, and that one of thes,e branches — 
 in other words, one of the individuals whom I suspect — is 
 very near this town. Have that man brought in," he add- 
 ed in a low voice. " There's some one in your parlor, I 
 brought him here." 
 
 The governor gazed at Sipiagin, and thought admiringly, 
 " What a man he is ! " and gave the order. A moment 
 later, and the servant of God,* Sila Pakline, appeared be- 
 fore them. 
 
 * The ofificial phrase used in such cases. — Tr. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 285 
 
 Sila Pakline bowed very low before the governor ; but 
 when he saw Markelof, he did not finish his bow, and stood 
 with his head bending forward, turning his cap in his 
 hands. 
 
 Markelof gave a hasty look, and he probably did 
 not recognize him, for he buried himself again in his 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Is that the branch ? " asked the governor, pointing to 
 Pakline with his long, white finger on which was a turquoise 
 
 " Oh, no ! " answered Sipiagin, laughing a little. ' Yet," 
 he added, after a monientary reflection, " your Excellen- 
 cy," he went on aloud, " you see before you a certain Mr. 
 Pakline. To the best of my knowledge he lives in St. 
 Petersburg, and he is the intimate friend of a certain person 
 who filled the position of tutor in my house, whence he 
 ran away, taking with him— I am burning with mortification 
 when I say it — a young girl, a relation of mine." 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes," mumbled the governor, nodding his head. 
 " I heard something about it at the countess's." 
 
 Sipiagin raised his voice. 
 
 " The person I just mentioned is a certain Mr. Nesh- 
 danof, who is strongly suspected by me of dangerous ideas 
 and theories." 
 
 " He's a most fiery radical ! " added Kallomei'tsef. 
 
 " Dangerous- ideas and theories," repeated Sipiagin still 
 more distinctly. " He is certainly mixed up with this whole 
 crusade, and he is now hiding, Mr. Pakline tells me, in the 
 merchant Falei'ef's factory." 
 
 At the words, " Mr. Pakline tells me," Markelof looked 
 again at Pakljne, but he merely smiled slowly and uncon- 
 cernedly. 
 
 " Excuse me, excuse me, your Excellency," cried Pak- 
 line, " and you too, Mr. Sipiagin, I never — never — " 
 
 "You said, at Falei'ef's ?" the governor asked of Sip-' 
 iagin, gently waving his hand at Pakline as if to say, 
 ■' Gently, my boy, gently ; your turn will come in a mo- 
 ment ! " " What has got into those long-bearded mer- 
 chants ? One was arrested yesterday for this very affair. 
 You know his name, perhaps ? — Goloushkine, a rich fel- 
 
286 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 low. Oh, he'll never lead a revolution. All day he has 
 been groveling on the ground on his knees." 
 
 " Faleief is not implicated in this business," said Sipiagin. 
 " I have no idea what his opinions are. I only wanted to 
 speak about his factory, where Mr. Neshdanof is at present, 
 according to Mr. Pakline — " 
 
 " I didn't say so," roared Pakline. " You said so your- 
 self." 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Pakline," retorted Sipiagin with a pit- 
 ilessly distinct intonation, " I respect the feeling of friend- 
 ship which inspires your denial." (" Oh, Guizot, over again," 
 thought the governor.) " But I will take the liberty of point- 
 ing out to you my own case. Do you think the feeling ol 
 relationship is not as strong in me as that of friendship in 
 you ? But there is another feeling, my dear sir, which is 
 even stronger, and which ought to guide all our actions — 
 the feeling of duty ! " 
 
 " Le sentiment du devoir" said Kallomeitsef, translating it 
 into French. 
 
 Markelof looked at both of the orators. 
 
 " Your Excellency," he said, " I repeat my request : order 
 me, please, to be taken out of the presence of these two 
 wind-bags." 
 
 But at this the governor lost his patience. 
 
 " Mr. Markelof," he cried, " in view of your position 1 
 should advise you to be more careful what you say, and to 
 show more respect for your superiors, especially when they 
 express such patriotic sentiments as those which you have 
 just heard from the lips of your brother-in-law. It will 
 g ve me a great deal of pleasure, my dear Boris," the gov- 
 ernor went on, " to give the njinister an acpount of your 
 noble conduct. But where exactly in the mill is this Mr. 
 Neshdanof ? " 
 
 Sipiagin frowned. 
 
 " He's with a certain Mr. Solomine, superintendent of 
 the mill, according to Mr. Pakline." 
 
 Sipiagin seemed to feel a particular delight in tormenting 
 poor Sila ; it was the way he took his revenge for the cigar 
 he had offered him in the carriage, and for the familiar, 
 intimate, almost playful politeness which he had paid him. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 287 
 
 " Do you know these gentlemen, Solomine, and what's 
 his name ? eh ? Neshdanof ? " asked the governor of 
 Markelof, in an official, somewhat nasal tone. 
 
 " And you, your Excellency, do you know Confucius and 
 Livy." 
 
 The governor turned his back on him. 
 
 " It's impossible to talk with that man," he said, shrug- 
 ging his shoulders. " Will you be good enough to come 
 here a moment, baron ? " 
 
 The aide-de-camp went up to him, and Pakline took ad- 
 vantage of that moment to hobble up toward Sipiagin. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " he stammered ; " why do you 
 ruin your niece ? You know very well she is with him — 
 with Neshdanof." 
 
 " I am not ruining any one, my dear sir," answered 
 Sipiagin distinctly ; " I am obeying my conscience 
 and — " 
 
 " Your wife, my sister, who has you under her thumb," 
 said Markelof, finishing the sentence in the same tone. 
 
 Sipiagin did not frown ; all that was so much below him. 
 
 " Listen," said Pakline, in the same broken voice ; his 
 whole body was quivering with emotion, and possibly fear ; 
 his eyes were glowing with wrath, his throat was Swollen 
 with tears — tears of pity for them, of anger with himself. 
 " Listen to me : I told you she was married ; that is not 
 true, I deceived you ; but they ought to be married, and if 
 you prevent it, if the police capture them, you will have on 
 your conscience a stain which nothing can ever wash off, 
 and you — '•' 
 
 " The information you give," interrupted Sipiagin, rais- 
 ing his voice still higher, " provided it is true, which I have 
 the right of doubting, can only hasten the steps I have 
 thought it necessary to take ; as for the purity of my con- 
 science, I beg of you, my dear sir, not to make yourself un- 
 easy about it." 
 
 " His conscience, my friend ! it's varnished," broke in 
 Markelof again ; " they've covered it with Petersburg lack- 
 er ; nothing can take hold of it. As for you, Mr. Pakline, 
 you can lie as much as you please, you'll never lie out of 
 this." 
 
288 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 The governor thought it his duty to put a stop to all 
 these remarks. 
 
 " I think, gentlemen, that you have made it perfectly 
 clear; that is why, baron, I must ask you to show Mr. 
 Markelof back again. There's nothing more needed, Boris? " 
 
 Sipiagin opened his arms. 
 
 " I have said all I could." 
 
 "Very well, dear baron." 
 
 The adjutant went up to Markelof, rattled his spurs 
 against each other, and with his right hand described a 
 short, horizontal line, which meant " If you please, march." 
 Markelof turned and left the room. Pakline, in imagina- 
 tion, pressed his hand with a feeling of sad sympathy and 
 pity. 
 
 "And now we are going to set our men on the mill," 
 resumed the governor. " Only listen : Boris, it seems to me 
 that this gentleman," pointing to Pakline with a turn of his 
 chin, " told you something about your niece — that she was 
 there at the factory ; and in that case — " 
 
 " She must not be interrupted under any circumstances," 
 answered Sipiagin thoughtfully ; " she may think it over 
 and decide to return. With your permission I will write 
 her a line." 
 
 " Do. But you can rest easy. We'll lock the 
 fellow up ; we are polite to the ladies, and of course to 
 her." 
 
 " But you haven't settled about this Solomine," cried in an 
 aggrieved voice Kallomeitsef, who had been listening, dur- 
 ing this private talk, to pick up a few scraps. " I assure you 
 he's the leader of the whole thing. In these matters I 
 assure you I have a sure scent." 
 
 "'Pas trap de z'ele, my dear Simeon Petrovitch," answered 
 the governor smiling. " Remember Talleyrand. If he 
 had anything to do with it he won't get off. But you'd 
 better think about your " — ^here the governor imitated the 
 gasp of a choking man — " your debtor. By the way," he 
 went on, turning to Sipiagin, " et ce gaillard la, " point- 
 ing again at Pakline with his chin, " what shall we do 
 with him ? He doesn't look very dangerous." 
 
 " Let him go," said Sipiagin, very low ; and he added in 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 289 
 
 Geiniau, '^Lass den Lumpen laufen,"* fancying — no one 
 knows why — that he was quoting from Goethe's Goetz von 
 Berlichingen. 
 
 " You can go, my dear sir," said the governor aloud. 
 "We have no further need of you. To the pleasure of our 
 next meeting ! " 
 
 Pakline made a bow to them all collectively, and went 
 out humiliated, crushed. Good God ! good God ! this 
 contempt was the last stroke. 
 
 " What ! " he thought, in utter despair ; " coward and in- 
 former ! But no, no ! I'm an honest man, gentlemen, and 
 I'm not so void of courage." 
 
 But whose is that familiar face there on the steps of the 
 governor's house, looking at him so sadly and reproach- 
 fully ? It's — it's Markelof's old servant. He came to 
 town evidently to follow his master, and he doesn't leave 
 the threshold of the prison. But why does he look at 
 Pakline in that way ? He didn't betray Markelof. 
 
 " Why did I interfere where I had no business ? " said 
 Pakline to himself, relapsing into his gloomy revery. " Why 
 didn't I stay quietly behind my counter ? And now every- 
 body says — and perhaps they'll put it in print — ' A certain 
 Mr. Pakline told everything and betrayed all ; he betrayed 
 his friends to their enemies.' " He then recalled the look 
 Markelof had given him and that terrible " You'll never lie 
 out of it," and the sad, dejected eyes of the old man ; and, 
 like St. Peter in the gospel, " he wept bitterly," and turned 
 slowly to the oasis, to Fomoushka, Fimoushka, and Snan- 
 doulia. 
 
 * Let the fellow go. 
 19 
 
XXXVI. 
 
 1"^HAT morning when Marianne lefl her room, she found 
 Neshdanof dressed and seated on the sofa. He was 
 supporting his head witk one hand, the other hand lay 
 limp and mot'onless on his knees. 
 
 She drew near him. 
 
 " Good morning, Alexis — you did not undress yourself? 
 You have not slept ? How pale you are ! " 
 
 Neshdanofs heavy eyelids were slowly raised. 
 
 "I did not undress jnyself, I have not slept." 
 
 "Are you sick, or is it merely the consequence of yes- 
 terday.?" 
 
 Neshdanof shook his head. 
 
 "I have not slept since the time when Solomine went 
 into your chamber ! " 
 
 ' ' When was that ? " 
 
 "Yesterday evening." 
 
 "Alexis, you are jealous! What an idea! You have 
 chosen your time well ! He hardly stayed with me a quar- 
 ter of an hour. We were speaking of his cousin the priest, 
 and of the arrangements to make for our wedding." 
 
 " I know that he only remained a quarter of an hour ; [ 
 saw him come out — and I am not jealous, oh, no I But 
 since that moment I have not been able to sleep." 
 
 "Why, then.?" 
 
 Neshdanof kept silent. 
 
 "I have been thinking — thinking — thinking — "said he 
 at length. 
 
 "About what.?" 
 
 "About you — him — and myself." 
 
 "And what conclusion did you come to ? " 
 
 " Must I tell you, Marianne ? " 
 
 "Tell me, I beg of you." 
 
 290 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 291 
 
 "I came to the conclusion that I am an incumbrance, 
 to you, to him, and to myself." 
 
 " To me ! to him ! I can guess what you imply in sa}'- 
 ing that, although you assert that you are not jealous. But 
 for yourself.'' " 
 
 " Marianne, there are two men in me, one of whom in- 
 terferes with the other's life. That is why I say that both 
 would do better to come to an end." 
 
 "Come, come, Alexis, I beg you. What an idea to tor- 
 ment yourself thus, and me as well as yourself! What we 
 have to do now is to find out what measures we ought to 
 take. You know very well that they will not let us alone." 
 
 Neshdanof gently grasped her arm. 
 
 "Sit down by me Marianne, and let us talk a little, like 
 friends, while we yet have time. Give me your hand. It 
 seems to me that we had better come to an explanation, 
 although they say that explanations only complicate mat- 
 ters. But you are intelligent and good ; you will under- 
 stand it all, or will guess at what I do not make clear. Sit 
 down.' 
 
 Neshdanof's voice was very calm, and in his eyes, which 
 never left Marianne, was to be read a singular expression of 
 friendly tenderness, mingled with entreaty. 
 
 Marianne readily sat down by his side and took his hand. 
 
 "'J'hank you, dearest. Listen to me — I will not keep 
 you long : I have already thought over in my mind last 
 night what I have to say to you. Listen, do not think that 
 I have been very much troubled by what happened yester- 
 day : it is probable that I must have been ridiculous, and 
 even somewhat disgusting ; but you, I need not say, you 
 never thought anything ill or degrading of me — you know 
 me — I have just said that what happened yesterday did not 
 trouble me : that is not quite true — it is false. I have been 
 much troubled by it — not because I was brought home 
 drunk, but because I found in it the absolute, complete 
 proof of my bankruptcy, of my powerlessness I and I don't 
 mean on account of my inability to drink like a Russian 
 peasant — I mean because of my character itself, as a 
 whole ! Marianne, I must confess it to you. I do not 
 believe in the work which has united us, in the work, in 
 
2g2 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 the name of which we fled together, and toward which, I 
 owe it to you to tell you, I had already cooled when the 
 light of your faith warmed and kindled mine anew. I no 
 longer believe, I no longer believe ! " 
 
 He covered his eyes with the hand that was free, and was 
 iilent a moment. Marianne was also silent, she bent her 
 head, she felt that he was telling her nothing new. 
 
 "I at first imagined," resumed Neshdanof uncovering 
 his eyes, but no longer looking at the young girl, "that I 
 believed in the work itself, and only doubted myself; my 
 strength, my experience, my ability, I thought, does not 
 correspond with my conviction ; but now it is clear to me 
 that the two things go hand in hand, and then what is the 
 good of deceiving myself? No, it is that I no longer be- 
 lieve in the work itself. And you, do you believe in it, 
 Marianne .'' " 
 
 Marianne drew herself up to her full height and raised 
 her head. 
 
 "Yes, Alexis," said she ; "I believe in it. I believe in 
 it with all the strength of my soul, and I will devote my 
 whole life, to my last breath, to this work ! " 
 
 Neshdanof turned toward her with a look that betrayed 
 both emotion and envy. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; that is just what I expected you to say ; you 
 see very well now that we do not belong together, you your- 
 self have' broken the tie between us." 
 
 Marianne remained silent. 
 
 " There is Solomine, for instance," resumed Neshdanof. 
 ' ' Solomine does not believe." 
 
 "What.?" 
 
 "No, he does not believe either, but he does not need 
 to : he goes tranquilly forward. A man who is following a 
 road to go to a town does not ask himself if this town really 
 exists. He walk? along, and that is all. That is what 
 Solomine does, and he requires nothing more. As for me 
 I cannot go forward, 1 will not go back, and standing still 
 in the same place kills me. Now can I ask any one to share 
 my lot ? You know the proverb. Let each one carry his end 
 of the burden, and all will go well I But if one of the two 
 lack? strength to lift his end, what can the other do .? " 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 293 
 
 ' • Alexis, " said Marianne hesitatingly, ' ' it seems to me 
 •.hat you exaggerate. In short, we love each other." 
 
 Neshdanof sighed deeply. 
 
 '' Maiianne, I revere you and you pity me, and each of 
 us is convinced of the other's good faith : that is the real 
 truth. As for love, there is none between us." 
 
 " Come, come, Alexis, what are you saying ? Have you 
 forgotten that to-day the pursuit begins, and that we must 
 riy together, and never pait more .-' " 
 
 " Yes, and go and be married by the priest Zossime, as 
 Solomine proposed. I know very well that this marriage 
 is nothing, in your eyes, but a passport, a means of escaping 
 the troubles with which we are threatened by the police. 
 But, in fact, up to a certain point, it would oblige us to a 
 common life, side by side ; or, if it did not oblige us to 
 this, it would at least presuppose in us a desire to live 
 together. " 
 
 " What do you mean, Alexis ? You will stay here then ? " 
 
 Neshdanof was upon the point of saying yes, but he con- 
 sidered, and replied : 
 
 "No— no." 
 
 "Then you will not go where I do on leaving here ? " 
 
 Neshdanof pressed strongly the hand which she had left in 
 his. 
 
 "It would be a sin to leave you without a defender and 
 protector, and I will not do that, however weak I may be. 
 You shall have a protector, do not doubt it." 
 
 Marianne leaned toward Neshdanof, and looked him 
 full in the face with anxiety and solicitude, trying to look 
 through his eyes into his soul, to the very bottom of his 
 soul.' 
 
 " What is the matter with you', Alexis ? You have some- 
 thing on your mind. Tell me what it is. You alarm me. 
 Your words are so strange, so enigmatical. ' And what an 
 expression you have 1 I have never before seen you look 
 like this I " 
 
 Neshdanof gently pushed her from him, and softly kissed 
 her hand. This time^she neither resisted nor smiled. She 
 continued to look at him anxiously. 
 
 " Don't be troubledj I beg of you. There is nothing 
 
294 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 strange in this. This is all that's wrong : Markelof, I under- 
 stand has been beaten by the peasants. He has felt their 
 fists ; they have bruised his body. Me they have not beaten, 
 they have even drunk to my health with me. But they 
 have bruised my soul even more than Markelof's body. I 
 was out of place with my circumstances ; I tried to put my- 
 self right again, but only succeeded in getting myself more 
 out of place. That is precisely what you read on my face." 
 
 "Alexis," she said slowly, "this would be very bad if 
 you were not sincere with me." 
 
 He wrung his hands. 
 
 " Marianne, my whole being is laid bare before you, and 
 whatever I do, I warn you of it beforeliand. so that at the 
 bottom of your heart you won't be really surprised at any- 
 thing." 
 
 Marianne longed to ask him for an explanation of these 
 words, but did not — the more that at this moment Solo- 
 mine entered the room. 
 
 His movements were quicker and more nervous than 
 usual. His eyes -.vere cast down, his large lips were con- 
 tracted, his whole face seemed to have grown thinner, and 
 to have assumed a dry, hard, almost imperious expression. 
 
 " Friends," he said, " I come to warn you that there is 
 no time to be lost. Get ready — it is time to start. You 
 must be ready in an hour. You must go and be married. 
 We have no news from Pakline ; they first kept his horses 
 at Arjanoie, and then sent them back. He remained there. 
 Probably they took him to town. He will not mean to in- 
 form about you, of course, but who knows ! His tongue 
 may have run away with him. And then they would rec- 
 ognize my horses. My cousin has been told to expect 
 you. Paul will accompany you. He will serve for your 
 witness." 
 
 "And you^-and 'thou.?'"* Neshdanof asked him. 
 "You are not going then .? I see you are in traveling rig," 
 he added, pointing to the long cavalry boots whicli Soli> 
 mine had on. 
 
 " No, no. These are on account «f the mud." 
 
 * Neshdanof calls him " thou " from this time forth. — 7V. 
 
Virgin soil. 
 
 295 
 
 " But if they make you suffer for us ? " 
 
 " I don't think they will — at any rate that is my affair. 
 In one hour then. Marianne, Tatiana wants to see you. 
 She has got something ready for you." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, in a moment. I was just going to her." 
 
 Marianne went toward the door. 
 
 Neshdanofs face bore a strange expression of mingled 
 fright and anguish. 
 
 "Are you going, Marianne.?" said he, with suddenly 
 failing voice. 
 
 She stopped. 
 
 " I shall be back in half an hour. I must have a little 
 time to get ready in. " 
 
 "Yes ; but come here." 
 
 "I will; but why?" 
 
 " I want to look at you once more." He looked at her 
 for a long time. ' ' Good-by, good-by, Marianne ! " She 
 seemed surprised. "You are wondering what is the mat- 
 ter with me — it is nothing — don't notice it. You are com- 
 ing back in half an hour, ain't you ? yes ? " 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Yes — ^yes — excuse me. My head is stupid from want 
 of sleep. You know I was awake all night. I shall also 
 be ready — soon." 
 
 Marianne left the room. Solomine was going to folio Af 
 her, when Neshdanof stopped him. 
 
 "Solomine !" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Give me your hand. I must thank you for your hos- 
 pitality." 
 
 Solomine barely smiled. "What an idea 1 " 
 
 He gave him his hand, however. 
 
 "And listen," continued Neshdanof; " if anything hap- 
 pens to me I may count on you, I may feel sure that you 
 will look out for Marianne?" 
 
 " Your future wife ? " 
 
 "Yes, Marianne." 
 
 "I am sure, in the first place, that nothing will happen 
 to you ; and besides, you may feel -perfectly easy. Marianne 
 is as dear to me as to you yourself." 
 
296 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 " Oh ! I know it, I know it, I know it. All right ! and 
 thank you ! In an hour then ? " 
 
 "In an hour." 
 
 "I will be ready. Good-by." 
 
 Solomine went out and overtook Marianne on the stair- 
 case. He meant to speak to her about Neshdanof, but he 
 said nothing, and Marianne saw that he had something to 
 Sly to her about Neshdanof, but did not say it. And she 
 also said nothing. 
 
XXXVII. 
 
 HARDLY had Solomine left the room when Neshdanol 
 sprang up from the sofa ; he went twice round the 
 room, then stopped short for a minute, as if lost in thought ; 
 then he suddenly shook himself and took off his "mas- 
 querading" dress which he kicked into the corner; he 
 fetched and put on his former clothes. 
 
 Then he went up to the three-legged table and took from 
 the drawer two sealed envelopes, and a small object which 
 he thrust into his pocket ; the envelopes remained on the 
 table. 
 
 He then leaned down, and opened the door of the stove. 
 The stove contained a heap of ashes. This was all that 
 was left of Neshdanof 's papers and private book of verses. 
 He had burned them all during the night. But in this 
 same stove, leaning against one of the walls, was the por- 
 trait of Marianne, Markelof's gift. Evidently, Neshdanof 
 had not had the courage to burn this portrait with the rest. 
 
 He took it out carefully, and put it on the table by the 
 side of the sealed papers. 
 
 Then, with a vigorous movement, he seized his cap and 
 started for the door. But he stopped, came back, and went 
 into Marianne's chamber. 
 
 After standing motionless for a moment, he cast a look 
 about him, and approaching the young girl's little bed, he 
 placed his lips, with one suppressed sob, not on the pillow, 
 but on the foot of the bed. 
 
 Then he stood up straight, drew his cap down over his 
 forehead, and flung himself from the room. Without 
 meeting any one either in the entry or on the staircase or 
 down below, he slipped out into the little enclosure. 
 
 The day was cloudy, the sky lowering : a little damp 
 breeze bent the tops of the grass-blades and gently waved 
 
 2g7 
 
2C|8 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 the leaves on the trees. The mill made less noise than 
 usual at this hour ; an odor of charcoal, of tar, and of soot 
 came from the yard. 
 
 Neshdanof cast around him a scrutinizing, distrustful 
 glance, then he walked up to the old apple-tree which had 
 attracted his attention on the day of his arrival, when he 
 first looked out of his chamber window. 
 
 The trunk of this apple-tree was covered with dry inoss ; 
 its bare and knotty branches, with but a few little green and 
 brown leaves stuck on here and there, raised themselves 
 crookedly toward the heavens, like the supplicant arms of 
 an old man, with bent elbows. 
 
 Neshdanof stood firmly on the dark earth which sur- 
 rounded the foot of the apple-tree, and drew from his pocket 
 the small object which he had previously taken from the 
 table drawer. Then he looked attentively at the windows 
 of the little house. 
 
 "If some one were to see me at this moment," he 
 thought, "perhaps I should put off — " 
 
 But nowhere was a human face to be seen. Every thing 
 seemed dead, every thing turned itself away from him ; 
 drawing itself away from him forever, leaving him alone to 
 the mercy of Fate. Only the factory was giving forth its 
 rank odor, its dull uproar ; and a gentle rain began to fall 
 in fine drops. 
 
 Then Neshdanof looked up, through the twisted branches 
 of the tree beneath which he was standing, at the grey, 
 heavy, wet, indifferent, blind sky ; he gaped, stretched his 
 arms, said lo himself " After all, there is nothing else to be 
 done; I cannot return to Petersburg, -to prison." He 
 threw aside his cap, then feeling as beforehand, a s^rt of 
 strange agonizing, but not wholly unpleasant, tension of the 
 nerves. He put the mouth of the revolver against his 
 breast, and pulled the trigger. 
 
 He felt a shock, not a very hard one, and he is stretched 
 upon his back ; and he tries to understand what has hap- 
 pened to him, and how it is that he has just seen Tatiana. 
 He even wishes to say, "ah! there is no need!" But 
 already he is stiff and mute. A whirlwind of green smoke 
 rushes into his eyes, over his face, over his forehead, into 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 299 
 
 his brain, and a horrible weight crushes him forever to the 
 ground. 
 
 Neshdanof was not mistaken in supposing he saw Tatiana ; 
 just as he pulled the trigger, she came to one of the win- 
 dows of the little house and descried him beneath the apple- 
 li'ee. 
 
 She had scarcely time to ask herself : " What is he doing 
 under the apple-tree bareheaded, in such weather as 
 this ? " when she saw him fall over backwards, stiff and 
 heavy as a sheaf of wheat. 
 
 Although she had not heard the rather weak report of the 
 pistol, she felt at once that something tragic had happened, 
 and rushed out to the enclosure, and ran up to Neshdanof. 
 
 ' ' Alexis Dimitrich what is the matter .? " 
 
 But darkness had already filled his being. She bent over 
 him and saw blood. 
 
 " Paul 1 " she cried in an altered voice, " Paul ! " 
 
 A few moments later, Marianne, Solomine, Paul and 
 two of the factory workmen were in the enclosure. Nesh- 
 danof was soon raised, carried into the chamber, and placed 
 on the sofa where he had spent the previous night. 
 
 He was laid on his back, his half-closed eyes remained 
 fixed, his face was lead colored ; he breathed slowly and 
 laboriously, catching each breath like a child tired out 
 with weeping. Life had not yet left his body. 
 
 Marianne and Solomine, standing on each side of the 
 couch, were almost as pale as Neshdanof hirnself. They 
 were both of them startled, stunned, crushed — especially 
 Marianne — but they were not surprised. 
 
 "Why did we not foresee this 1 " they thought, but at the 
 same time it seemed to them — yes, it seemed to them as if 
 they had foreseen it. 
 
 When he said to Marianne: "Whatever I do, I warn 
 you of it beforehand, you will not be surprised." Anil 
 again — when he had spoken of the two men who existed in 
 him, but who could not live together — was not a presenti- 
 ment aroused in her.? Why did she not stop at that mo- 
 ment and reflect upon these words and this presentiment.? 
 And why now did she dread looking at Solomine, as if he 
 Were heraccomplice, and like her, suffered remorse? Whj 
 
300 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 was the feeling of infinite pity, of desperate regret, with 
 which Neshdanof inspired her, mingled a sort of terror, of 
 shame? Might she, perhaps, have saved him? Why did 
 Uiey neither of them have courage to utter a word ? They 
 hardly dared breathe ; they waited — what were they waiting 
 for ? Great God ! 
 
 Solomine had sent for a surgeon, although there was evi 
 dently no hope. Titiana had put a large sponge filled with 
 fresh water upon the wound, which was small, black, and 
 had already stopped bleeding ; she also moistened his fore- 
 head with cold water and vinegar. 
 
 Suddenly Neshdanof ceased choking and made a slight 
 movement. 
 
 " He is coming to himself," murmured Solomine. 
 
 Marianne knelt down by the side of the sofa. Neshda- 
 nof looked at her. Up to this moment his eyes had been 
 fi.Ked like those of a dying person. 
 
 "Ah ! I am still alive," said he with a hardly perceptible 
 voice. ' ' Unsuccessful now as ever ! I detain you." 
 
 "Ale.\is ! " cried Marianne. 
 
 "But soon — you remember, Marianne, in my — poetry — • 
 Surround me with flowers. — Where are the flowers? But 
 you are there, you — my letter — " 
 
 He shivered from head to foot. 
 
 " Oh ! there it is. — Give — each other your hands — before 
 me. Quick ! — Give — " 
 
 Solomine seized the hand of Marianne, who had buried 
 her head in the sofa, her face close beside the wound. 
 
 As for Solomine, he was standing, rigid, black as night. 
 
 " So. — That's right.— So." 
 
 Neshdanof oegan to gasp again, but this time in a differ- 
 ent way. His chesf rose and the lower part of his body 
 contracted. He made evident efforts to place his hand on 
 rheir clasped hands ; but his were already dead. 
 
 "He is going," murmured Tatiana, who was standing 
 near the door." 
 
 And she began to cross herself. 
 
 The sobbing breaths became rarer, shorter. He sought 
 Marianne with his look, but a terrible milky whiteness al- 
 ready veiled his eyes. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 301 
 
 ' ' Right, " said he. This was his last word. 
 
 He no longer existed, and the hands of Solomine and 
 Marianne were still joined across his breast. 
 
 Here are the contents of the two letters which he left be- 
 hind him. The first which was addressed to Siline, con- 
 sisted of these few lines : 
 
 "Good-by! my brother, my friend, good-by ! When you 
 receive this bit of paper, I shall be no longer among the 
 living. Do not ask how or why ; and do not pity me, be 
 sure that it is better so. Take our immortal Poushkin, 
 and read over again the description of the death of Lenski, 
 in ' Eugene Oneguine.' You remember it ; ' The windows 
 are white-washed, the hostess is gone, etc' Nothing more — 
 I shall tell you nothing, because 1 should have too much to 
 tell you ; I have not time for it. But I could not go with- 
 out warning you. You might have thought me still alive, 
 and it would have been a sin on my part toward our friend- 
 ship. 
 
 " Good-by I try to live. Your friend, 
 
 "A. N." 
 
 The other letter, which was somewhat longer, was ad- 
 dressed to Solomine and to Marianne together. Here are 
 its contents : 
 
 " My Dear Children I 
 
 (After these words there was an interruption ; something 
 was scratched out, or rather effaced, as if by tears. ) 
 
 " It will perhaps seem strange to you that I call you thus ; 
 I am little more than a child, and you, Solomine, I know 
 are older than I ; but I am about to die, and, at the end of 
 my life, I seem to myself an old man. I am very guilty 
 toward both of you, particularly toward you, Marianne, for 
 in what I am about to do, I shall cause you much sorrow 
 (you will feel it, I am sure, Marianne), and much inconven- 
 ience. But what could I do .? I could find no other way 
 out of it all. 
 
 ' ' I could not learn to simplify myself, and there was noth- 
 ing left for me, but to put myself out of the way entirely. 
 Marianne, I should have been a burden both to you and to 
 
302 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 myself; you are generous, and you would perhaps have joy- 
 fully accepted this burden as a new sacrifice ; but I had no 
 right to impose it upon you ; you have more and better 
 things to do. 
 
 ' ' My dear children, let me join you together with a hand 
 which comes, as it were, from beyond the grave. 
 
 " You will be happy with one another. You, Marianne, 
 \\ill end by wholly loving Solomine ; and as for him, he has 
 loved you ever since the day when he first saw you at Sipia- 
 gin's. This has never been a secret from me, although we 
 ran away together a few days later. 
 
 '• Oh, that morning ! How lovely, and fresh, and young 
 it was ! It seems to me now symbolic of your double life, 
 of yours and his ; and it was a mere accident that I was 
 there in his place on that morning. 
 
 " But I must stop. I do not mean to ask for your pily, 
 only to exculpate myself To-morrow there will be some 
 moments that will be hard to bear. But what can I do since 
 there is no other way out ? Farewell, Marianne, my dear, 
 honest child I Farewell, Solomine ! I confide her to you. 
 Live happy ; live for the good of others. And you, Mari- 
 anne, must only think of me when you are happy ; think 
 of me as of a man who was honest and good, too, but to 
 whom it was more becoming to die than to live. 
 
 " I do not know whether I was in love with you, my dear ; 
 but I know that I have never felt a stronger feeling, and 
 that death would seem to me yet more terrible, if I did not 
 carry with me into my grave a feeling like that. 
 
 " Marianne, if you ever meet with a person named Mash- 
 urina — Solomine knows her, and besides, you have seen her 
 too, I think — tell her that I thought of her with gratitude, 
 a short time before my death. She will know what I 
 mean. 
 
 " I must shorten my farewells, however. I have just been 
 looking out of the window. A bright star shone steadfastly 
 through the clouds that rushed past it. But no matter how 
 swiftly they went, they could not hide its beams. This star 
 made me think of you, Marianne. 
 
 "At this moment, you are asleep in the neighboring cham- 
 ber, — and you suspect nothing. I drew near your door and 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 303 
 
 listened, and it seemed to me that I heard your quiet breath- 
 ing. Farewell ! farewell, my children, my friends ! 
 
 "Yours, A." 
 
 " Only think ! in this letter written at the very moment 
 when I am about to die, I have not said a word of our 
 great work ! That is doubtless because so near to death I 
 cannot lie. Marianne, forgive me this postscript. The 
 falsehood was in me and not in the work in which you 
 believe. 
 
 "Oh I one word more. You will perhaps think Marianne 
 that I feared imprisonment — for of course I should have 
 been arrested — and that I have taken this mode of escaping 
 it ? No ; the prison is not such a great affair ; but to be in 
 prison for the sake of an undertaking in which one did not 
 believe, would be too absurd. If I make away with myself, 
 it is not from dread of a prison. 
 
 "Farewell! Marianne! Farewell!" 
 
 Marianne and Solomine, read one after the other, then 
 she put both letters and the portrait into her pocket, and 
 remained motionless. 
 
 Then Solomine said to her. 
 
 "All is ready, Marianne, let us go — we must fulfill his 
 wishes.". 
 
 Marianne approached Neshdanof, placed her lips on his 
 already cold forehead, and turning to Solomine said : 
 
 ' ' Let us go. " 
 
 He drew her arm through his, and they both left the 
 room together. 
 
 Some hours later, when the police made their way into 
 the factory, they found Neshdanof, indeed, but dead. 
 Tatiana had carefully arranged his bed, she had put a white 
 pillow beneath his head ; she had crossed his hands ; she 
 had even placed some flowers by his side. 
 
 Paul who had received all the necessary instructions gave 
 the police a most respectful, and at the same time a most 
 ironical reception ; so that they did not know whether to 
 thank him or to put him under arrest. 
 
 He related to them all the details of the suicide, he gave 
 
304 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 them Gruy^re cheese to eat and madeira to drink ; but when 
 they asked him what had become of Solomine and the young 
 girl who had been staying in the factory, he professed the 
 most complete ignorance on the subject ; he contented 
 himself with assuring them that Solomine never stayed away 
 long, on account of the business ; that he would surely 
 return that day or the next; and that when he did return 
 he would let them know at the town at once, without a 
 moment's delay. They could be sure of it for he was a 
 punctual man ! 
 
 So that the gentlemen returned empty-handed, having 
 left some one in charge of the body and promising to send 
 a magistrate. 
 
XXXVIII. 
 
 Two days after these events, a man and a young woman, 
 both of whom are well-known to us, drove into the 
 courtyard of good Father Zossime's house, and on the mor- 
 row they were married. 
 
 A few days afterward they went away again, and the good 
 Zossime never repented what he had done. 
 
 When he left the mill, Solomine had intrusted to Paul a 
 letter directed to the owner, in wrhich he gave a complete 
 and accurate statement of the affairs of the mill — which were 
 in excellent condition — and he asked for three months' 
 leave of absence. It had been written two days before 
 Neshdanofs death, whence it may be concluded that at that 
 time Solomine had thought it necessary to go off with him 
 and Marianne and to keep out of the way for some time. 
 
 The inquest that was held after the suicide brought noth- 
 ing more to light. The body was buried, Sipiagin made 
 no further effort to find his niece. 
 
 Markelof came up for trial nine months later. His hear- 
 ing before the court was the same as that before the gover- 
 nor ; calm, not without a certain dignity, and somewhat 
 sad. His customary stiffness had grown softer ; not from 
 weakness, but from another and nobler feeling. He made 
 no effort toward excusing himself, he showed no sign of re- 
 pentance, he neither accused nor named anyone else ; his 
 gaunt face and his languid eyes wore merely an expression 
 of resignation and firmness ; and his short, but frank and 
 concise answers awoke even in the judges a feeling akin to 
 pity. 
 
 The peasants who had arrested him and who were the 
 government witnesses also felt this feeling, and they spoke 
 of him as a ' simple ' and kindly barine. 
 
 But his guilt was too plain ; he could not escape punish- 
 20 305 
 
3o6 
 
 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 ment ; besides he seemed to accept it as a very natural con- 
 sequence. 
 
 As foi his few accomplices, Mashurina hid ; Ostrodumof 
 was killed by a citizen to whom he was preaching insurrec- 
 tion, by an " accidental " blow ; Galouchkine, thanks to his 
 "sincere repentance," was sentenced to only a light pun- 
 ishment (he nearly went mad from distress and terror) ; 
 Kisliakof was imprisoned for a month and then let cut, but 
 they did not even interfere with his roaming as before 
 through all the governments of Russia ; Neshdanof put 
 himself out of the way by suicide ; Solomine — from lack 
 of incriminating evidence — was suspected, but nothing was 
 done about him. Besides, he did not avoid trial and ap- 
 pearance at the appointed day. No allusion was made to 
 Marianne ; Pakline had succeeded in getting out of the 
 scrape, but no one troubled himself about the poor man. 
 
 Eighteen months had pasSed ; it was the winter of 1870, 
 at St. Petersburg, in the same St. Petersburg in which 
 Privy Counsellor and Chamberlain Sipiagin was preparing 
 to play a prominent part, where his wife was patronizing the 
 arts, giving musical parties and organizing diet kitchens, 
 where Mr. Kallomeitsef was regarded as one of the most 
 valuable oflficials in his department, a short man arrayed in 
 a shabby coat with a cat-skin collar, was limping along one 
 of the streets of the Vassili-Ostrof. 
 
 It was Pakline. He had changed since those days ; a 
 (ew silver lines were glistening in the hair which hung be- 
 low his fur lined cap. 
 
 A tall and somewhat stout lady, closely wrapped in a 
 cloak of dark cloth, was coming along the sidewalk tcvard 
 him. 
 
 He glanced at her carelessly and passed by her ; then he 
 suddenly stopped, thought for a moment, stretched out his 
 arms, and then, turning suddenly, he caught up with her 
 and stared at her. 
 
 ' ' Mashurina ? " he said in a low voice. 
 
 The lady gave him a haughty look and passed on without 
 a word. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 307 
 
 " My dear Mashurina, I have recognized you," continued 
 Pakline, limping along by her side ; but don't be alarmed, 
 I beg of you. You can be sure that I shan't betray you ! 
 I am so glad to have met you ! I am Pakline, Sila Pakline, 
 you remember ; Neshdanofs friend. Come to where I live ; 
 it's a stone's throw from here. Do come ! ' 
 
 " To sono contessa Rocca, and — and — e ancora!" answered 
 Ih; lad) with a- serious voice, but with a very pronounced 
 Russian accent. 
 
 " Countess what ? How have you got to be a countess? 
 Come with me, we will have a talk." 
 
 "But where do you live?" asked the Italian countess 
 suddenly, "I'm in a hurry." 
 
 " I live in this street ; there's my house ; do you see a 
 gray, three-storied house ? How kind of you not to try to 
 conceal yourself any longer. Give me your arm! Have 
 you been here long ? And how are you a countess ? Have 
 you married some Italian count ? " 
 
 Mashurina had not married any Italian count ; but when 
 she was in foreign parts they had given her a passport which 
 had belonged to a certain Countess Rocca di Santo Fiumi 
 who had died a short time before ; and, provided with this, 
 she had calmly gone back to Russia, although she did not 
 understand a word of Italian, and was of a very markedly 
 Russian type. 
 
 Pakline led the way to his modest dwelling. His de- 
 formed sister, Snandoulia, with whom he kept house, came 
 out to meet them from behind the partition which separated 
 the small ante-chamber from the still smaller kitchen. 
 
 " Here, Snandoulia," said he, "I commend this lady to 
 your good graces, she is a great friend of mine ; let us have 
 some tea right away." 
 
 Mashurina, who would never have accepted Pakline's in- 
 vitation if he had not spoken of Neshdanof, took off her 
 hat, smoothed with her hand her hair, which was cut short 
 as of old, bowed, and seated herself without a word. 
 
 She was not at all changed ; her dress even was the same 
 she had worn two years before. But an unshaken sad- 
 ness dwelt continually in her eyes,- and this sadness gave a 
 touching expression to her naturally rough face. 
 
3o8 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 Snandoulia hastened to get the samovar ; Pakline seated 
 himself in front of Mashurina, tapped her on the knee with 
 a friendly gesture, bent his head and tried to speak ; but 
 was first obliged to clear his throat, for his voice failed him, 
 and tears shone in his little eyes. Mashurina sat motionless, 
 with her body upright, without leaning back in her chair, 
 and looked askance with a morose expression. 
 
 "Oh!" said Pakline at last, "how many things have 
 happened ! I look at you and recall many things and 
 many people, some living and some dead. My two little 
 love-birds are dead also ; but you did not know them, I 
 think ; and both, as I said they would, went the very same 
 day. And Neshdanof — poor Neshdanof ! You no doubt 
 know — " 
 
 ' ' Yes, I know, " replied Mashurina, still looking askance. 
 
 "And Ostrodumof? — ^you know, too, what happened to 
 him ? " 
 
 Mashurina nodded her head. She wished he would con- 
 tinue speaking of Neshdanof, but she dared not ask him to. 
 He understood it, however. 
 
 " I heard that in the letter which he wrote just before his 
 death he spoke of you. Is that true ? " 
 
 "It is true," she said at length. 
 
 "What an excellent fellow he was ! But he was wholly 
 out of place 1 He was no more a revolutionist than I ! 
 Do you know what he really was? — a romantic realist ! 
 You understand me." 
 
 Mashurina cast a quick glance at Pakline. She did 
 not understand or try to understand him. She then 
 thought it strange and uncalled for that he should dare to 
 compare himself with Neshdanof; but she said to herself, 
 " Bah ! let hinr boast, what harm does it do ! " 
 
 In reality he was not boasting at all, he intended rather 
 to lower himself by the comparison. 
 
 " I had a visit from a certain Siline,' continued Pakline ; 
 " Neshdanof had also written to hirn before he died. This Si- 
 line asked me if it would not be possible to find some papers 
 which the dead man had left behind him. But all Alexis' 
 effects had been put under seal, and his papers no longer 
 existed ; he had burned them all, and his poetry too. You 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 309 
 
 did not know, perhaps, that he wrote verses? I regret 
 their loss. I am sure that among them there must have 
 been some not bad ones. But they all disappeared with 
 him, all fell into the common gulf — and forever. Nothing 
 remains but what is left in the memory of a few friends 
 who too will disappear in their turn — " 
 
 Pakline interrupted himself for a moment. 
 
 "By the way, the Sipiagins," he resumed, "you remem- 
 ber them — those condescending big-wigs, so dignified and so 
 disagreeable — well, they are now on the very summit of 
 power and renown I " 
 
 Mashurina did not remember the Sipiagins at all ; but 
 Pakline so cordially detested them both, particularly the 
 husband, that he could not deny himself the satisfaction of 
 abusing them. 
 
 "It seems that their establishment is as high-toned as 
 possible ! They are forever talking of virtue there ! But I 
 have noticed one thing ; houses where they are forever 
 talking of virtue are like rich chambers where they have 
 been burning pastilles, one can feel pretty sure that there is 
 something to be hidden ! Such a strong perfume of virtue 
 is suspicious. It was they, those Sipiagins, who destroyed 
 poor Neshdanof " 
 
 "What is become of Solomine ? " asked Mashurina. 
 
 She felt a sudden dislike to hear Neshdanof spoken of by 
 this man. 
 
 "Solomine.? There's a smart fellow for you! He 
 steered his boat well. He left his old factory and took the 
 best workmen with him. There was one of them— a clever 
 creature they say — his name is Paul. Solomine took 
 him too. Now they say he has a factory of his own, not a 
 very large one, somewhere in the government of Perm, 
 and he has established it on the • co-operative principle. 
 You may be sure he won't make a mess of his business. 
 He'll make a good thing of it. He's sharp and he's strong, 
 too ; he is a great fellow. And above all he does not pre- 
 tend to right all social wrongs in a moment. The rest 
 of us Russians, you know what we are like ; we are always 
 hoping that something or some one will come to cure all our 
 troubles in a moment, to heal our wounds, to take away all 
 
3IO VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 our sufferings as one pulls out a bad tooth. Who or what 
 is to perform this miracle ? Will Darwinism do it ? Will 
 the commune? or Arkhip Perepeutief ? Or a foreign war ? 
 No matter ; only let the benefactor come and pull out our 
 tooth for us ! In reality all of this means : idleness, want 
 of energy and of reflection ! But Solomine is not of this 
 stamp ; he does not extract teeth ; he is a clever fellow ! '^ 
 
 Mishurina made a gesture which seemed to say " Requies- 
 cat in pace. " 
 
 "And that young girl," asked she, " I have forgotten 
 her name, who went off with him, with Neshdanof ? " 
 
 ' ' Marianne ? She married that very Solomine — more 
 than a year ago. At iirst it was a merely formal marriage, 
 but now I understand they live together as man and wife. 
 Yes ! " 
 
 Mashurina made the same gesture she had made i pro- 
 pob of Solomine. 
 
 Formerly she had felt jealousy of Marianne because she 
 loved Neshdanof; now she was indignant that she had been 
 false to his memory. 
 
 "There is a child, I suppose," she said disdainfully. 
 
 "Perhaps, I don't know. But where are you going, 
 where are you going.? " added Pakline on seeing her take 
 her hat. ' ' Wait, Snandoulia will have the tea ready in a 
 moment." 
 
 What Pakline desired was not so much to keep Mashu- 
 rina as to pour out to some one all that had been heavily 
 fermenting in his mind. Since his return to Petersburg he 
 saw very few people, above all, few young people. His ex- 
 perience with Neshdanof had alarmed him, he had become 
 very prudent, he fled society, and the young people on 
 their side regarded him with a suspicious eye. One of them 
 had even called him informer to his face. As to old peo- 
 ple, he took little pleasure in their society, so whole weeks 
 sometimes passed without his having occasion to speak a 
 word. 
 
 He did not let himself out much with his sister, not that 
 he believed her incapable of understanding him ; quite the 
 contrary ! He esteemed her intellgence most highly. But 
 with her he was obliged to speak seriously, and with per- 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 311 
 
 feet veracity ; and whenever he indulged himself in "play- 
 ing trumps " as they say with us, she would begin to look 
 at him in a peculiarly attentive, almost compassionate way, 
 which made him feel ashamed of himself. But grant that 
 one can't always keep from playing trumps, even if only a 
 deuce of trumps. 
 
 All which made life at Petersburg very disheartening to 
 Pakline, and he sometimes thought of carrying his Penates 
 elsewhere — to Moscow, perhaps. 
 
 And meanwhile, a crowd of considerations, of reflections, 
 of thoughts, of droll and piquant sayings heaped up and col- 
 lected within him, as the waters of a mill when the dam was 
 closed. The gate could not be raised, and the water be- 
 came stagnant and corrupted. Then Mashurina came, the 
 floodgate was raised, and the flow of words poured forth. 
 He had something to say about every one and everything — 
 about Petersburg, and life there, about all Russia. Noth- 
 ing nor nobody was spared. All this interested Mashurina 
 very little ; but she did not answer him nor interrupt him, 
 which was all he asked. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " we have come to a pretty pass I as- 
 sure you ! In society complete stagnation ; everybody is 
 horribly bored ! In literature an absolute nothingness ! 
 lahula rasa! In criticism, if a young progressist writei 
 wishes to say that ' hens have a faculty for laying eggs,' he 
 must have twenty pages in which to show forth this pro- 
 found truth, and even then he will not have explained it 
 quite to his satisfaction ! In science, ha ! ha 1 ha ! we have 
 the learned Kant still with us ; but only on the engineer's 
 collars ! * In art it is just the same. Go to the concert this 
 evening, you will hear the popular singer Agr^mentaky. . . 
 He is tremendously successful. Well, if a stuffed carp could 
 sing, if, I say, a very fat and very insipid stuffed carp could 
 sing, it would sing precisely as that gentleman does, 
 which does not prevent Skoropikin, you know, our severe 
 critic, from praising him up to the skies ! ' It is very dif- 
 
 * Kant in Russia means a border or piping, such as the engineers, 
 artillery-men, the scientific class in the army in general, wear upon 
 khe collars of their uniforms. 
 
312 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 ferent,' he says, 'from Western art ! ' He also praised up to 
 the skies our wretched daubers. ' Formerly ' he says, ' I 
 too raved about Europe and the Italians ; but I have heard 
 Rossini, and I said, Eh ! eh 1 pugh ! — I have seen Raphael, 
 and I said. Eh ! eh ! pugh ! and all our young men 
 ask nothing better and say, ' Eh ! eh ! pugh ! 'like Skoro- 
 pikim, and they are delighted, if you'll believe it. And 
 meanwhile the people are suffering terribly, the taxes 
 have ruined them, and the only reform that has been intro- 
 duced is that the peasant men wear caps now, and the women 
 have given up their old style of head-dress — and star- 
 vation, and drunkenness, and the monopolists — " 
 
 But at that moment Mashurina yawned, and Pakline saw 
 he must change the subject. 
 
 " You haven't yet told me where you've spent these last 
 two years, nor whether you've been back long, nor what 
 you've been doing, nor how you got transformed into an 
 Italian countess, nor why — " 
 
 "There's no need of your knowing all that," interrupted 
 Mashurina; "what is the use? it don't concern you any 
 longer." 
 
 That cut Pakline ; but to hide his mortification he laughed 
 a little forced laugh. 
 
 " As you please," said he, "I know that in the eyes of 
 the younger generation I'm behind the times. The fact is 
 I can't consider myself any longer as one of the — " 
 
 He did not finish his sentence. 
 
 "Here's Snandoulia with the tea. You will take a cup, 
 and meanwhile listen to me. Perhaps I may tell you some- 
 thing of interest." 
 
 Mashurina took the cup in one hand and a lump of sugar 
 in the other, and began to drink her tea in the Russian fash- 
 ion, nibbling at her sugar. 
 
 Whereat Pakline laughed heartily. 
 
 " It is very lucky that the police are not here for the 
 Italian countess — what was the name ? " 
 
 " Rocco di Santo-Fiume ! " replied Mashurina, swallow- 
 ing a mouthful of boiling tea. 
 
 "Rocco di Santo-Fiume !" repeated Pakline, "and she 
 takes her tea in real Russian fashion ! That is not likely 1 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 313 
 
 That alone would be enough to awaken the gravest suspi- 
 cions." 
 
 "That vvas just what happened at the frontier," said 
 Mashurina ; "there was a man in uniform who would not 
 let me alone ; he asked me a lot of questions. At last I lost 
 patience : ' Will you let me alone ! ' I said to him." 
 
 "In Italian?" 
 
 "Not at all ; in Russian." 
 
 ' ' And what did he do ? " 
 
 "What did he do ? He went off, of course. " 
 
 "Bravo!" cried Pakline. "Oh! what a countess! 
 Take another little cup of tea. There is one remark I wish 
 to make to you. Just now you were rather hard upon Solo- 
 mine. Well, do you know what I think ? People like him 
 are the real people. One does not understand them at 
 first ; but, believe me, they are the real people, and the 
 future belongs to them. 
 
 " They are not heroes, not even those 'heroes of toil,' 
 about whom some absurd American or Englishman, I 
 don't recollect which, has written a book for the edification 
 of the rest of us poor devils ; these are the solid men who 
 come from the people, and are colorless, somber, dull-look- 
 ing. We need them now, and them only. 
 
 ' ' Look at Salomine, for instance ; his spirit is as clear as 
 the day, and he stands straight and sturdy as an oak ! 
 That's a most exceptional thing ! What is the general rule 
 in Russia at the present day ? If you are an intelligent, 
 living, thinking, being, you are infallibly sick ! Whilst 
 Solomine has certainly the same thoughts and troubles as 
 we have ; and detests what we detest, his nerves, neverthe- 
 less, are sound, and his body obeys him as it ought. Yes, 
 he is a fine fellow ! 
 
 "Say what you please, but a man who has an ideal, and 
 who does not waste words, who is well educated and 
 springs from the people ; who is simple and at the same 
 time very skillful. . . what better would you have ? 
 
 ' ' And don't tell me, " continued Pakline, who let himself 
 go more and more, without perceiving that Mashurina had 
 long ceased listening to him, and that she had again begun to 
 look askance at him ; " don't tell me that there are among 
 
314 VIRGIN SOIL. 
 
 us at this moment all sorts of individuals ; and of Slavo- 
 philes, and of bureaucrats, and of generals, single and 
 double,* like violets, and of epicureans, by the way, and of 
 imitators and of crazy heads ! I know a lady named 
 Febronie Ristdroflf, who one fine day became a point-blank 
 legitimist, and assured every one that when she died, if 
 they opened her heart, they would find inscribed there the 
 name of Henry V. — on Febronie Ristdroif s heart I 
 
 "Don't tell me all this, my worthy friend ; but believe 
 that our only true path is that followed by simple common- 
 place and clever people, by Solomines in a word ! Re- 
 member at what a moment I say this to you^during the 
 winter of 1870, at the moment when Germany is making 
 ready to crush France, at the moment when — " 
 
 "Sila,"said suddenly behind him Snandoulia's voice, 
 " it seems to me that in your prophecies for the future you 
 forget our religion and its influence. Besides," added she 
 quickly, "Miss Mashurina is not listening to you — ^you'd 
 better offer her a cup of tea." 
 
 " Ah ! yes," said Pakline, cut short, "yes, indeed won't 
 you have — " 
 
 But Mashurina, slowly raising to his her somber eyes, said 
 with a thoughtful air : 
 
 ' ' I wanted to ask you, Pakline, if you did not have any- 
 Arhere some of Neshdanof's writing or his photograph ? " 
 
 "I have his photograph — ^yes, and not a bad one I think. 
 It is in the table drawer. I will find it for you in a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 He began to rummage in the drawer. Snandoulia ap- 
 proached Mashurina, looked at her steadily for some time, 
 and pressed her hand in a very friendly way. 
 
 "Here it is, I have found it ! " cried Pakline, handing 
 the photograph to Mashurina. 
 
 Then without looking at the portrait, without thanking 
 him, but blushing violently, she thrust the card quickly into 
 her pocket, put on her hat and went toward the door. 
 
 " You are going? " said Pakline ; " at any rate give me 
 your address ! " 
 
 * Referring to the decoration of one or two stars, according to theif 
 rank. 
 
VIRGIN SOIL. 315 
 
 " I have no fixed address." 
 
 "I understand; you don't want me to know it. Tell 
 me at least one thing : You are still under the orders ol 
 Vassili Nicholaivitch ? " 
 
 "What is that to you?" 
 
 " Or of some one else, perhaps ? of Lidor Sidorovitch 1 " 
 
 Mashurina did not answer. 
 
 " Or perhaps of some anonymous person ? " 
 
 Mashurina crossed the threshold. 
 
 " Yes, perhaps of some anonymous person." 
 
 She closed the door behind her. 
 
 Pakline remained for some time motionless before \\m 
 closed door. 
 
 " Anonymous Russia 1 " he said at last 
 
 ;ii£ £NU.