Both sisters had slept badly that night. Elisaveta was worn out by
nightmares, while Elena woke several times and went to her. Both felt
the sweet after-dizziness of sleep suddenly cut short by the Dragon’s
sickles. Their memories pursued one another in a confused, vivid
flock. They began to recall the circumstances of yesterday’s visit. A
secret agitation, akin to shame, stole over them. Little by little
they conquered this feeling during the day. Alone again, they
discussed what they had seen at Trirodov’s. A strange forgetfulness
came upon them. The details of the visit grew more vague the more they
tried to recall them. They found themselves in constant disagreement,
and corrected one another. It might have been a dream. Now it seemed
one, now the other. Was it reality or a dream? Where is the
border-line? Whether life be a sweet or a bitter dream, it passes by
like a swift vision!
Three days passed by. Again the day was quiet and clear, again the
high Dragon smiled his malignant, excessively bright smile. He
counted, as he rose, his livid seconds, his flaming minutes; and he
let fall upon the earth, with a scarcely perceptible echo, his
lead-heavy but transparent hours. It was three o’clock in the
afternoon; they had just finished luncheon. The Rameyevs and the
Matovs were at home. Again Elisaveta wrangled with Piotr and, as
before, the discussion was long, heated and discordant--every one left
the table flustered and depressed; the hopeless confusion of it all
deeply affected even the usually composed Miss Harrison.
The sisters were left by themselves. They went out on the lower
balcony and pretended to read. They appeared to be waiting for
something. This waiting made their hearts beat fast under their
heaving breasts.
Elisaveta, letting the book fall upon her knees, was the first to
break the heavy silence.
“I think he is coming to-day.”
The breeze blew at that moment, there was a rustle in the foliage and
a little bird suddenly began to chirp away somewhere--and it seemed as
if the depressed garden were glad because of these lively, resonant,
quickly uttered words.
“Who?” asked Elena.
The insincerity of her question made her flush quite suddenly. She
knew very well whom Elisaveta meant. The latter glanced at her and
said:
“Trirodov, of course. It is strange that we should be waiting for
him.”
“I think he promised to come,” said Elena indecisively.
“Yes,” answered Elisaveta, “I think he said something at that strange
mirror.”
“It was earlier,” observed Elena.
“Yes, I am mixing it all up,” said Elisaveta. “I don’t understand how
I could forget so quickly.”
“I too am tangling things up badly,” confessed Elena, astonished at
herself. “I feel very tired, I don’t know why.”
The soft noise of wheels over a sandy road grew closer and closer. At
last a light trap, drawn by a horse in English harness, could be seen
turning into the alley of birches and stopping before the house. The
sisters rose nervously. Their faces wore their habitually pleasant
smiles and their hands did not tremble.
Trirodov gave the reins to Kirsha, who drove away.
The meeting proved an embarrassing one. The sisters’ agitation was
evident in their polite, empty phrases. They entered the drawing-room.
Presently Rameyev, accompanied by the Matov brothers, came in to
welcome the guest. There was the usual exchange of compliments, of
meaningless phrases--as everywhere, as always.
Piotr was uneasy and hostile. He spoke abruptly and with evident
unwillingness. Misha looked on with curiosity. He liked Trirodov--he
had already heard something about him which assured pleasant relations
between them.
The conversation developed rapidly and politely. Not a word was said
about the sisters’ visit to Trirodov.
“We’ve heard a great deal about you,” began Rameyev, “I’m glad to know
you.”
Trirodov smiled, and his smile seemed slightly derisive. Elisaveta
remarked:
“I suppose you think our being glad to see you merely a polite
phrase.”
There was sharpness in her voice. Elisaveta, realizing this, suddenly
flushed. Rameyev looked at her in astonishment.
“No, I don’t think that,” put in Trirodov. “There’s real pleasure in
meeting.”
“That’s the usual thing to say in polite society,” said Piotr quietly.
Trirodov glanced at him with a smile and turned to Rameyev.
“I say it in all sincerity, I am glad to have made your acquaintance.
I live very much alone and so am all the more glad of the fortunate
circumstance that has brought me here on a matter of business.”
“Business?” asked Rameyev in astonishment.
“I can put the matter in a few words,” said Trirodov. “I wish to
extend my estate.”
There was a tinge of sadness in Rameyev’s answer:
“You have bought the better part of the Prosianiya Meadows.”
Trirodov said:
“It’s not quite large enough. I should like to acquire the rest of
it--for my colony.”
“I shouldn’t like to let the rest go,” remarked Rameyev. “It belongs
to Piotr and Misha.”
“As far as it concerns me,” put in Piotr, “I’d sell my share with the
greatest pleasure before those ‘comrade’ fellows take it from me for
nothing.”
Misha was silent, but it was evident that the thought of selling his
native soil was distasteful to him. He seemed on the point of bursting
into tears.
“In my opinion,” observed Rameyev, “the land needn’t be sold. I
shouldn’t advise it. I wouldn’t think of selling Misha’s share until
he came of age--and I shouldn’t advise you to sell yours either,
Piotr.”
Misha, gladdened, glanced gratefully at Rameyev, who continued:
“I can direct you to another plot of land which happens to be on sale.
I hope it will suit your needs.”
Trirodov thanked him.
His educational institution now became the topic of conversation.
“Your school, of course, brings you into contact with the Headmaster
of the National Schools. How do you manage to get along with him?”
asked Rameyev.
Trirodov smiled contemptuously.
“Not at all,” he said.
“A clumsy person, this fellow with his feminine voice,” went on
Rameyev. “He’s an ambitious, cold-blooded man. He’s likely to do you
an injury.”
“I’m used to it,” answered Trirodov calmly. “We are all used to it.”
“They might close your school,” suggested Piotr in a tone of sharp
derision.
“And again they might not,” asserted Trirodov.
“But if they should?” persisted Piotr.
“Let us hope for the best,” said Rameyev.
Elisaveta looked affectionately at her father. But Trirodov said
quietly in his own defence:
“The school might be closed, but it is hard to prevent any one from
living on the soil and running a farm. If the school should cease
being a mere school and become an educational farm, it would succeed
in replacing the large farms as they are now run by their
proprietors.”
“But that is Utopia,” said Piotr in some irritation.
“Very well, then, we’ll establish Utopia,” said Trirodov, unruffled.
“But as a beginning you hope to destroy what exists?” asked Piotr.
“Why?” exclaimed Trirodov, astonished.
Strangely agitated, Piotr said:
“The comrades’ proposed division of land, if carried into force, would
lead to a crushing of culture and science.”
“I don’t understand this alarm for science and culture,” replied
Trirodov. “Both one and the other are sufficiently strong to stand up
for themselves.”
“Nevertheless,” argued Piotr, “monuments of civilization are being
demolished by this _Kham_[8] who is trying to replace us.”
“It is not our monuments of civilization alone that are being
destroyed,” retorted Trirodov patiently. “This is very sad, of course,
and proper measures should be taken. But the sufferings of the people
are so great.... The value of human life is, after all, greater than
the value of such monuments.”
In this peculiarly Russian manner the conversation quickly passed on
to general themes. Trirodov, who took a large share in it, spoke with
a calm assurance. They listened to him with deep attention.
Of his five auditors only Piotr was not captivated. He was tormented
by a feeling of hostility to Trirodov. He glanced at Trirodov with
suspicion and hate. He was exasperated by Trirodov’s confident tone
and facile speech. Piotr’s remarks addressed to the visitor were often
caustic, even coarse. Rameyev looked vexed at Piotr now and then, but
Trirodov appeared not to notice his sallies, and was simple, tranquil,
and courteous. In the end Piotr was compelled to restrain himself and
abandon his sharp manner. Then he grew silent altogether. After
Trirodov’s departure Piotr left the room. It was evident that he did
not wish to join in any discussion about the visitor.