LEISURE HOUR SERIES 
 
 DIMITRI ROUDINE 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY ''' 
 
 IVAN TURGENIEFF 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH AND GERMAN VERSIONS 
 
 (Rejrrinted from EVERY SATURDAY.) 
 
 K A U V 
 
 KKS ITV OF ; 
 
 NEW YORK 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 1873- 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1878, by 
 
 HENBY HOLT. k 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
L I B Ji A I i > 
 
 U N 1 V K It S I r r V < > F 
 
 \LJKOU\1A. 
 
 ^ 
 
 DIMITEI KOUDIKE. 
 
 i, '; 
 
 IT was a quiet summer morning. The sun was already 
 high in the cloudless heavens, but the dew was still 
 glistening in the fields. A fragrant breeze was blowing 
 from the scarcely awakened valleys ; and in the damp and 
 silent forest the birds were singing their morning song. 
 At the top of a hill covered with growing rye, was to be 
 seen a small village. Walking towards this village, on a 
 narrow side path, was a young woman in a white muslin 
 dress, a round straw hat on her head, and with a sunshade 
 in her hand. A little page, dressed as a Cossack, was fol- 
 lowing her a few paces behind. 
 
 She advanced without haste, and as if she were enjoying 
 
 her walk. All about her the long, gently-rolling waves, 
 
 1 
 
4 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 now of a silvery gray, now tinted with red, ran with soft 
 murmur over the bowing rye. Overhead the larks were 
 loudly singing. The young woman was coming from 
 her own village, which lay at about the distance of a verst 
 from the one towards which her steps were bent ; her name 
 wap- Alexandra ;Ea-ido:vn:a Lipina. She was a widow, 
 < childjcss-, and toleyaby Keli o'ff ; she lived with her brother, 
 kergius Paulovitch Volinzoff, who had been a captain in 
 the army. He was a single man, and managed her affairs. 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna reached the village, stopped at the 
 first house, a very old and dilapidated peasant's cabin, and 
 ordered her page to go in and inquire about the health of 
 the woman who lived in it. He soon returned, followed 
 by an infirm old peasant with a white beard. 
 
 " Well, how is she ? " asked Alexandra Paulovua, 
 
 " She is still alive," answered the old man. 
 
 " Can I go in ? " 
 
 -"Why not? Of course." 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna entered the hut. It was small, 
 close, and full of smoke. Some one was lying sobbing on 
 
Dimitri Rotidine. 5 
 
 the bench near the stove. Alexandra Paulovna looked 
 around and saw in the dim light the yellow, wrinkled face 
 of an old woman, whose head was enveloped in a checked 
 cloth. A thick cloak covered her nearly to her neck ; she 
 was breathing with difficulty, and feebly moving her thin 
 arms. Alexandra Paulovna stepped up to the old woman 
 and placed her hand gently on her brow ; it was burning 
 hot, 
 
 " How do you feel, Matrona ? " she asked, bending over 
 the bench. 
 
 " Dear me, dear me ! " groaned the old woman, after she 
 had recognized Alexandra Paulovna. " Very ill, very ill, 
 my dear ! My last hour has come, my dove ! " 
 
 " With God's help there is hope yet, Matrona. Did you 
 take the medicine I sent you ? " 
 
 The old woman gave a sad groan, but did not answer. 
 She had not understood the question. 
 
 " She took it," explained the old man, who remained 
 standing at the door. 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna turned towards him. 
 
6 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " Is there no one but you with her ? " she asked. 
 
 " There's her granddaughter, but she never stays. She 
 can't sit in one place ; she's so restless ! She's too lazy to 
 give her grandmother even a glass of water. I am too old ; 
 what can I do ? " 
 
 " Might she not be taken to the hospital ? " 
 
 " No ! Why take her to a hospital ? It's all the same 
 where one dies. She has lived her life. It seems to be 
 God's will. She can't stir from that bench. How could 
 she get to the hospital ? If we were to lift her up, she 
 would die." 
 
 " Ah ! " groaned the sick woman again ; " my dear 
 lady, don't forget my poor little orphan. Our master is 
 far away, but you " 
 
 She stopped, so difficult was it for her to speak. 
 
 " Calm yourself," answered Alexandra Paulovna. " It 
 shall be as you wish. I have brought you some sugar and 
 tea. If you are thirsty, drink some. You have a samovar,! 
 have you not ? " she continued, looking at the old man. 
 
 * The Russian yessel for making tea. TE. 
 
Dimitri Roudine* 7 
 
 " A samovar ? No, we have no samovar ; but we can get 
 one." 
 
 " Well, you must get one ; if you cannot, I'll send you 
 one. Tell your granddaughter she ought not to be run- 
 ning away in this fashion. Tell her it's disgraceful." 
 
 The old man did not answer, but took the bundle of tea 
 and sugar. 
 
 " Well, good by, Matrona ! " said Alexandra ; " I shall 
 come again to see you. Don't be down-hearted, and take 
 your medicine regularly." 
 
 The old woman raised her head a little, and moved 
 towards Alexandra Paulovna. " Give me your hand, my 
 dear lady," she murmured. 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna did not give her hand ; she leaned 
 over her and kissed her brow. 
 
 " Be very careful," she said to the old man, as she was 
 passing out ; " the medicine must be given her at the right 
 time, and make her drink some tea," 
 
 He again bowed in silence. 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna breathed more freely when she 
 
8 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 came out into the fresh air. She opened her sunshade and 
 was about to return home, when suddenly there turned the 
 corner of the cabin a man of about thirty years of age, 
 driving a low droschke ; he wore an old gray linen over- 
 coat, and a cap of the same material. As soon as he saw 
 Alexandra Paulovna he stopped his horse and turned 
 towards her. His face was broad and pale, his eyes 
 were small and light-gray in color, his moustache very 
 blonde ; his whole appearance was very like his dress in 
 color. 
 
 " Good day," he said, with a careless smile ; " what are 
 you doing here, if I may take the liberty of asking ? " 
 
 " I have been visiting a sick woman. But where do you 
 come from, Michael Michaelovitch ? 'V ; 
 
 The man whose name was Michael Michaelovitch looked 
 her in the eye and smiled again. 
 
 " It is very good of you," he continued, " to visit a sick 
 woman ; but would it not be better to have her taken to a 
 hospital ? " 
 
 She is too weak ; she can't be moved." 
 
Dimitri Roudine? 9 
 
 " How is it about your hospital ; don't you intend to have 
 it closed ? " 
 
 Closed ! why ? " 
 
 Well, I thought so." 
 
 "What a singular ideal How did it get into your 
 head?" 
 
 "You have so much to do with Madame Lassounski, 
 and, apparently, you are so much under her influence. 
 According to her, hospitals and schools are all non- 
 sense, useless inventions. Benevolence ought to be in- 
 dividual, and education too ; all that is the work of the 
 soul I believe that is the way she expresses herself. 
 I should like to know who teaches her to talk in that 
 way." 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna laughed. 
 
 " Daria Michaelovna is an intelligent woman. I like and 
 respect her very much ; but she can make mistakes, and I 
 don't believe in every word she says." 
 
 " And it is well that yo" don't," answered Michael 
 Michaelovitch without getting out of his droschke ; " for 
 
IO Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 she has no faith in her own words. I am very glad tc 
 have met you." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " A nice question ! as if it were not always pleasant to 
 meet you. To-day you are as fresh and charming as the 
 morning." 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna laughed again. 
 
 " What are you laughing at ? " 
 
 " Ah 1 what at ? If you could only see with what a cold, 
 indifferent manner you utter your compliments ! I am 
 surprised that you get to the end of your sentence without 
 yawning." 
 
 " With a cold manner you always want fire ; but fire is 
 good for nothing. It blazes up, smokes, and goes out." 
 
 " And warms," added Alexandra Paulovna. 
 
 " Yes, and burns, too." 
 
 14 Well, what harm if it does ? We must not complain 
 n that account. That is better than " 
 
 " I should like to hear what you would say if you had 
 once burned yourself seriously ! " answered Michael 
 
Dimitri Ron dine. II 
 
 Michaelovitch, with some petulance, as he hit his horse 
 with the reins. " Good-by 1 " 
 
 " Michael Michaelovitch, wait a moment ; when are you 
 coming to see us ? " 
 
 " To-morrow. Remember me to your brother." 
 
 And the droschke started off. 
 
 " What a singular man ! " she thought, as she gazed 
 after him. In fact, as he appeared, round-shouldered, cov-i 
 ered with dust, his hair flowing in disorder from beneatty 
 his cap which was thrust on the back of his head, he looked, 
 as she said to herself, like a real meal bag. 
 
 Slowly Alexandra Paulovna resumed her way home. 
 She was walking with eyes cast down, when the steps of a 
 horse in her immediate neighborhood caused her to stop and 
 look up. It was her brother riding to meet her. By his 
 side was walking a young man, of ordinary height, wearing 
 a thin open overcoat, a narrow necktie, a light gray hat, 
 and with a cane in his hand. From a distance he had 
 been smiling at Alexandra Paulovna, although he saw very 
 well that she was sunk in thought and heeding nothing 
 
12 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 She did not notice him until he stepped up to her and said 
 almost tenderly, 
 
 " Good morning, Alexandra Paulovna, good morning ! " 
 
 " Ah ! Constantine Diomiditch, good morning ! are you 
 coming from Daria Michaelovna's ? " 
 
 " Exactly, exactly," cried the young man, with his face 
 all lit up, " from Daria Michaelovna's. She sent me to 
 you; I preferred to come on foot. The morning is so 
 pleasant I It is only about four versts. I went to the 
 house you were not at home. Your brother told me you 
 had gone to Semenovka. He was just going out to ride to 
 the meadows ; so J came with him to meet you. Yes, in- 
 deed. How charming ! " 
 
 The young man spoke Russian accurately and grammat- 
 ically, but with a foreign accent which it would have been 
 hard to define. In his features there was something Asi- 
 atic. The long curved nose, the large prominent eyes, 
 the thick red lips, the retreating forehead, the jet black 
 hair, everything about him indicated an Oriental origin, 
 yet his name was Pandalewski, and he said he was from 
 
Ditnitri Roudine. 13 
 
 Odessa, although he had been brought up somewhere in 
 White Russia at the expense of a benevolent and wealthy 
 widow. Another widow had obtained for him a position 
 in the government service. In general, women of a certain 
 age took pleasure in helping him ; he understood how to 
 obtain from them what he wanted. At this very time he 
 was living, either as an adopted son or as guest, at the 
 house of a rich owner of a large estate, Daria Michaelovna 
 Lassounski. He was amiable to every one, obliging, full of 
 feeling, and secretly sensual : he had an agreeable voice, 
 played the piano tolerably well, and had a way of staring 
 hard at the person with whom he was talking. His broad 
 chin was carefully shaven, and his hair always combed 
 smooth. 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna listened until the end of his speech, 
 and then turned to her brother. 
 
 " I am meeting everybody to-day ; I've just been talking 
 with Leschnieff." 
 
 " Ah, indeed 1 " 
 
 " Yes, and only think, he was driving in a droschke in a 
 
14 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 long linen overcoat, all covered with dust ! W^nat a strange 
 man 1 " 
 
 " Possibly, but he's a capital fellow ! " 
 
 " What ! Mr. Leschnieff ? " asked Constantine with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Yes, Michael Michaelovitch Leschnieff," answered 
 Volinzoff ; " but good-by, sister ; I must go to the field : 
 they have begun to sow the buckwheat. Mr. Pandalewski 
 will escort you home." 
 
 And Volinzoff trotted away. 
 
 " AVith the greatest pleasure," cried Constantine, as ha 
 offered his arm to Alexandra Paulovna. 
 
 She took it, and they both took the patl to the house. 
 
n. 
 
 To walk arm in arm with Alexandra Paulovna evidently 
 filled Constantine Diomiditch with joy and pride. He took 
 short, mincing steps, he smiled complacently, and his Ori- 
 ental eyes grew moist, as indeed they were in the habit of 
 doing ; it was always easy for him to be moved, even to the 
 point of shedding tears. And who would not be happy to 
 have a young and pretty woman on his arm ? The whole 
 district of agreed that Alexandra Paulovna was charm- 
 ing, and the whole district was right. Her straight nose, 
 just the least bit turned up, would have alone turned the 
 head of the wisest of mankind, not to speak of her brown 
 velvety eyes, her golden hair, the dimples on her round 
 cheeks, and her countless other charms. But the most at- 
 tractive thing about her was the expression of her beautiful 
 
1 6 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 face ; confiding, kind, and modest, it moved and attracted 
 every one. Alexandra had the look and laugh of a child 
 the ladies of her acquaintance thought her a little simple 
 What more could one want ? 
 
 " You say that Daria Miehaelovna sent you to me ? ' 
 she asked Pandalewski. 
 
 " Yes, of course, of course she sent me," he answered in 
 a strikingly affected way, and pronouncing the letter s, 
 like the English th ; " she told me to beg you to be kind 
 enough to dine with her to-day ; she is very anxious, for 
 she expects a new guest whom she wants to introduce 
 to you." 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 " One Mujfel, a baron and a gentleman of the bedchamber, 
 from St. Petersburg. Daria Michaelovna met him recently 
 at Prince Garine's, and she always speaks of him most en- 
 thusiastically, as a charming and highly cultivated young 
 man. The baron is interested in literature, or rather 
 oh, what a beautiful butterfly ; do look at it ! rather, in 
 political economy. He has written an article on a very 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 17 
 
 interesting question, and is anxious to submit it to Daria 
 Michaelovna's judgment." 
 
 " An article on political economy ? " 
 
 " With respect to the style, Alexandra Paulovna, with 
 respect to the style. You must know Daria Michaelovna 
 is a great authority in such matters. Schukapski used to 
 consult her, and my benefactor, the venerable Roxolan 
 Mediarovitch Xandrina, who used to live in Odessa you 
 certainly remember his name ? " 
 
 " Not at all ; I never heard of him." 
 
 " You never heard of him ? That is strange I I was 
 going to say that Roxolan Mediarovitch also had a very high 
 opinion of Daria Michaelovna's knowledge of Russian." 
 
 " But isn't this baron a pedant ? " 
 
 " Not at all ; Daria Michaelovna says that you can see 
 at once that he is a man of the world. He spoke of Bee- 
 thoven with such eloquence that even the old prince was 
 touched. I must say I should like to have heard him, 
 for that is in my line. May I offer you this wild flower ? ' 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna took the flower, but soon let it full 
 2 
 
i8 Dimitri Roiidine. 
 
 from her hand. They were only about two hundred paces 
 from the house ; newly built and still all white, it smiled in- 
 vitingly from behind a dense thicket of limes and maples. 
 
 " What answer do you give me for Daria Michaelovna ? " 
 asked Constantino, a little piqued at the fate of his flower ; 
 " shall you come to dinner ? She has also invited youi 
 brother." 
 
 " Yes, we will come without fail. How is Natalie ? " 
 
 " Natalie Alexandrovna is well, I am happy to say. 
 But we have passed the road to Daria Michaelovna's. Al- 
 low me to bid you good morning." 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna remained standing. " You won't 
 come in, then ? " she said with some hesitation. 
 
 " I should be very happy to, but I am afraid I shall be 
 late. Daria Michaelovna wants to hear a new fantaisie 
 of Thalberg's, and I must go practise it. Besides, I must 
 confess I am afraid that you get very little pleasure from 
 my conversation." 
 
 "Not at all why?" 
 
 Constantine sighed and lowered his eyes rreaningly. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 19 
 
 " A u revoir, Alexandra Paulovna," he said, after a brief 
 silence. He bowed and stepped back. 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna turned and started towards the 
 house. Constantine went on his way. In a moment all 
 his previous gentleness had left his face, to be followed byj 
 an expression of self-confidence, or even of hardness. His 
 gait changed, his steps were longer and quicker. He had 
 walked about two versts, swinging his cane in the air, when 
 suddenly his smile reappeared as he saw near the road a 
 young and tolerably pretty peasant girl, who was driving 
 some calves out of an oat field. Constantine approached 
 the girl as cautiously as a cat, and addressed her. At first 
 she did not reply ; she blushed, put her sleeve over her 
 mouth, turned away, and then said : 
 
 " Go away, sir ; go away." 
 
 Constantine threatened her with his finger, and told her 
 to bring him some corn-flowers. 
 
 " What do you want of corn-flowers ? Are you going 
 to weave a crown ? " said the girl. " Now, go, really " 
 
 " Listen, you charming beauty." 
 
2O Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " No, no, go away," interrupted the girl ; " see, there are 
 the young gentlemen coming." 
 
 Constantine turned around. In fact, Vania and Petia, 
 Daria Michaelovna's two boys, were running along the 
 road towards them. Behind them came their tutor, Bas- 
 sistoff, a young man of twenty-two, who had just finished 
 his studies. Bassistoff was tall, with a common face, a 
 large nose, thick lips and little eyes ; awkward, unattract- 
 ive, but kind, honest, and straightforward. He dressed 
 carelessly, and let his hair grow as it pleased, not from 
 vanity but from laziness. He liked to eat and to sleep, 
 but he also liked a good book, and an interesting talk; 
 Pandalewski he detested from the bottom of his heart. 
 
 Daria Michaelovna's children adored Bassistoff, and were 
 not in '^Jie least afraid of him. He was on familiar terms 
 with all the rest of the household, little to the pleasure of 
 the lady of the house, although she always pretended to be 
 superior to ordinary prejudices. 
 
 " Good day, children," said Constantine ; " how early 
 you are out this morning. As for me," he added, turn- 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 21 
 
 ing to Bassistoff, " I have already taken a long walk. I 
 like to enjoy the beauty of these lovely mornings." 
 
 "We have just seen how you enjoy the beauty of na- 
 ture," growled Bassistoff. 
 
 " You are a materialist, and Heaven knows what you 
 fancy. I know you." 
 
 When Pandalewski was talking with Bassistoff or sue 
 
 . r 
 
 people, he soon lost his temper, and his pronunciation 
 came very distinct and often somewhat hissing. 
 
 " You were apparently asking the way of that girl," said 
 Bassistoff, glancing nervously to each side. He felt Con- 
 stantine's eyes fastened on him and he was uneasy. 
 
 " I repeat it, you are a materialist, and nothing else. 
 You are willing to see only the prosaic side of every- 
 thing." 
 
 " Children," suddenly cried Bassistoff, "do you see 
 that willow in the field ? We'll see who will get there first ; 
 one, two, three I " 
 
 And the children started off for the willow, Bassistoff 
 after them. 
 
22 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " The clown 1 " thought Constantine ; " he will ruin those 
 boys a regular country bumpkin ! " 
 , -Then looking with considerable self-Batisfaction at his 
 o.vn neat figure, he patted twice the sleeve of his coat with 
 his separated fingers, arranged his collar, and went on his 
 way. When he reached his room, he put on an old dress- 
 ing-gown, and sat down to the piano with an earnest face. 
 
m. 
 
 DARIA MICHAELOVNA LASSOUNSKI'S house was perhaps 
 
 the principal one in the province of . Very large, built 
 
 of stone from designs of Rastelli, in the style of the last 
 century, it stood majestically on the top of a hill at the 
 foot of which flowed one of the principal rivers of Central 
 Russia. Daria Michaelovna was a lady of rank, rich, and 
 the widow of a Privy Counsellor. Constantine used to 
 say that she knew the whole of Europe, and that the whole 
 of Europe knew her but Europe had very slight ac- 
 quaintance with her, and even at St. Petersburg she had 
 no very prominent position ; but, on the other hand, at 
 Moscow every one knew and visited her. She belonged to 
 the best society, and was considered very eccentric ; not too 
 amiable, but extremely clever. In her youth she had been 
 
24 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 
 very pretty. Then poets had written verses to her, young 
 men had fallen in love with her, and many eminent men 
 had paid her attention. But twenty-five or thirty years 
 had passed, and every trace of Daria's charms had disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " Is it possible," every one would say to himself as he 
 first saw her, " is it possible that this thin, sallow, sharp- 
 nosed woman, who is not yet old, should have ever been a 
 beauty. Is it she who used to inspire poets ? " And 
 every one was amazed at the mutability of earthly things. 
 It is true that Pandalewski used to say that Daria's eyes 
 had preserved their wonderful charm, but then, he used to 
 say that the whole of Europe knew her. 
 
 Every summer Daria Michaelovna used to come to her 
 place in the country, with her children (a girl of seventeen, 
 and two boys of nine and ten), and keep open house ; that 
 is to say, she used to receive the men ; the women, and es- 
 pecially the unmarried women, of the province she could 
 not abide. In return she had to endure their backbitir.g. 
 According to them Daria Michaelovna was haughty and 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 25 
 
 tyrannical, but the main point was the shocking liberties 
 she allowed herself in conversation. It is true that in the 
 country Daria Michaelovna liked to be free from conven- 
 tional restraint, and that in her informal, easy manners one 
 could readily detect a slight shade of a grand lady's con- 
 tempt for the insignificant beings with whom she was/ I) 
 thrown. Even her city acquaintances she treated uncere- 
 moniously or almost with ridicule, but without any trace of 
 contempt. 
 
 Have you ever noticed, dear reader, that people who are 
 very absent-minded in the company of their inferiors, sud- 
 denly lose that manner when they enter the society of 
 their superiors ? What can be the reason of this ? But 
 why ask such questions ? 
 
 When Constantine Diomiditch had learned by heart 
 Thalberg's fantaisie, ho left his neatly arranged room to 
 go down to the parlor, where he found the family assembled. 
 The lady of the house was lying on a broad sofa, with her 
 feet curled up beneath her, and a new French pamphlet in 
 her hand. At one side of the window Daria's daughter 
 
26 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 was seated before an embroidery frame ; on the other sat 
 Mademoiselle Boncourt, the governess, an old, withered 
 maiden lady about sixty years of age, with a band of black 
 hair beneath her colored cap, and cotton in her ears ; in 
 the corner near the door Bassistoff was sitting, reading the 
 newspaper, while near him Petia and Vania, his pupils, 
 were playing backgammon ; leaning against the stove, 
 with his hands behind him, was standing a man of medium 
 height, with a thick mass of hair, a dark complexion, and 
 little, restless, black eyes. His name was Africanus Sim- 
 eonovitch Pigasoff. 
 
 Mr. Pigasoff was a strange man. Angry with everything 
 and everybody, especially with women, he was making bit- 
 ter remarks from morning till night ; sometimes they were 
 very acute, sometimes very flat, but he was always satis-' 
 fied with them. He was as irritable as a child ; his laugh, 
 the sound of his voice, his whole being, seemed saturated 
 with bitterness. Daria Michaelovna was always glad to see 
 him ; his speeches amused her. And in fact they were very 
 entertaining. He had a way of exaggerating everything. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 27 
 
 If any one, for example, were to speak in his presence of an 
 accident, whether the lightning had set fire to some village, 
 or a flood had washed away a mill, or some peasant had cut 
 his hand with his axe, he never failed to ask with re- 
 doubled sourness, " And what was her name ? " as if he 
 wanted to know the name of the woman who was the cause 
 of the misfortune ; for, according to him, one need only go 
 to the root of things to find that everything that goes wrong 
 is the work of some woman. 
 
 One day he fell on his knees before a lady whom he 
 hardly knew, but who had wearied him by urging him to 
 taste some little delicacy, and began to beseech her hum- 
 bly, but with wrath plainly to be seen in his face, to spare 
 hirrf ; that he had nothing to reproach himself with in re- 
 gard of his conduct to her, and that he would never visit 
 her again. Another time a horse ran away with one of 
 Daria Michaelovna's washerwomen down a steep hill, and 
 threw her into a pit, nearly killing her. From that time 
 Pigasoff never spoke of it except as the " good horse," and 
 the hill and pit began to seem to him most picturesque 
 
28 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 places. In all his life Pigasoff had never known success ; 
 and this probably was one of the main reasons of his eccen- 
 tric conduct. His parents had been poor. His father's oc- 
 
 
 cupation had been very humble ; he scarcely knew how to 
 
 read and write, and so had not thought about his son's ed- 
 ucation ; he had given him food and clothing, that was all. 
 His mother, who used to spoil him, died young. Pigasoff 
 owed his education to himself ; he entered first the public 
 school, then the gymnasium, learned French, German, 
 and even Latin. Having left the gymnasium with excel- 
 lent certificates, he went to Dorpat, where he kept up a 
 steady struggle with misery, but pursued his studies for 
 three years. Pigasoff's capacities were by no means ex- 
 traordinary ; he was distinguished for his patience and per- 
 sistency ; but his most marked trait was his ambition, hi| 
 longing for good society, his yearning not to be inferior to 
 others, notwithstanding his disadvantages. It was from 
 ambition that he worked hard, and for the same reason 
 that he had entered the University of Dorpat. His poverty 
 galled him, and developed in him the habit of obsei vation 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 29 
 
 and a certain cunning. He had an original way of express- 
 ing himself, and from his youth he had adopted a singular 
 sort of bitter, caustic eloquence. His thoughts were com- 
 monplace, but he talked in such a way that he seemed to 
 be not merely a bright, but even an intelligent man. Tow- 
 ards the end of his studies Pigasoff made up his mind to 
 devote himself to teaching, because it was the only career 
 which would allow him to remain on a par with his com- 
 panions, whom he chose especially from the higher classes, 
 trying to please them, or even to flatter them, although he 
 never ceased ridiculing them. But yet, to tell the truth, 
 he lacked the requisite ability. Having educated himself, 
 with no master and no real love of knowledge, he actually 
 did not know enough. His thesis was a complete failure, 
 while another student, his room-mate, at whom he had 
 always been laughing, passed over him triumphantly. This 
 defeat enraged Pigasoff extremely ; he threw all his notes 
 and books into the fire, and entered the government ser- 
 vice. 
 
 At first he succeeded tolerably well; as an official he 
 
30 Diviitri Roudine. 
 
 cut a very good figure. He was not very exact, but self-con- 
 fident and loud-talking. He only wished speedy promo- 
 tion, but, unfortunately, he got into difficulties, was repri- 
 manded, and in fact he was compelled to resign. He spent 
 three years on an estate which he had bought, and sud- 
 denly he married a wealthy, uneducated woman who was 
 fascinated by his easy, bantering manner. But Pigasoff 
 grew only more cynical, and he soon became tired of do- 
 mestic life. After living with him a few years, his wife 
 fled secretly to Moscow, and sold to a crafty speculator her 
 estate, on which Pigasoff had just made some improve- 
 ments. Wounded to the quick by this last blow, he 
 brought a suit against his wife, which he lost. So now he 
 lived alone, visiting his neighbors, whom he laughed at to 
 their face, and who received him with an affected good- 
 humor, although they were never very much afraid of him. 
 He never read a line. He owned about a hundred serfs \ 
 his peasants were never ill-treated. 
 
 " Ah, Constantine ! " said Daria Michaelovna, as Pan- 
 dalewski entered the room ; " is Alexandrina coming ? " 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 31 
 
 " Alexandra Paulovna told me to thank you, and to tell 
 you it would give her great pleasure to accept your invi- 
 tation," answered Constantine Diomiditch, bowing right 
 and left, and running his white, plump hand, with the nails 
 cut to a point, through his carefully arranged hair. 
 
 " And is Volinzoff coming too ? " 
 
 " Yes, he is coming." 
 
 " So then, Africanus Simeonovitch," continued Daria, 
 turning towards Pigasoff, " you think all young women are 
 affected ? " 
 
 Pigasoff's lips contracted a little on one side, and his 
 elbows twitched nervously. 
 
 " I say," he began deliberately he always spoke 
 slowly and distinctly when he was most malicious "I 
 say that young women in general I of course do not 
 include the present company " 
 
 " That does not prevent you from doing so in your 
 thoughts," interrupted Daria Michaelovna. 
 
 " I pass them over in silence," answered Pigasoff. " In 
 general, all girls are extremely affected in the expression 
 
32 Dimitri Roudinc. 
 
 of their feelings. If a girl is frightened, for example, or 
 delighted, or sorry, the first thing she does is to give a 
 graceful bend to her body " (here Pigasoff twisted himself 
 awkwardly, and extended his arms) ; " then she screams 
 * Ah 1 ' or she bursts out laughing or crying. Once, how 
 ever " (and here he burst out laughing), " I managed to 
 get a genuine expression of emotion from a remarkably 
 affected girl." 
 
 " How did that happen ? " 
 
 Pigasoff's eyes lit up. 
 
 " From behind, I poked her in the side with a stake. 
 How she shrieked ! ' Bravo, bravo ! ' cried I. That was 
 the voice of nature ; that was a natural cry ! You must 
 keep to that in future.' " 
 
 They all burst out laughing. 
 
 " What nonsense you are talking, Africanus ! " cried 
 Daria Michaelovna. " Do you think I will believe you 
 poked a girl in the side with a stake ? " 
 
 " It was a stake, upon my word ! a very large stake, 
 such as is used in the defence of a fort." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 33 
 
 " Mais c'est une horreur ce que vous dites la, Monsieur ! n 
 cried Mademoiselle Boncourt, casting a serious glance at 
 the boys, who were roaring with laughter. 
 
 " Don't believe him," said Daria ; " don't you know him 
 yet ? " 
 
 The irritated French lady, however, could not at once 
 control her anger, and she kept muttering between her 
 teeth. 
 
 " You may believe me or not, as you please," continued 
 Pigasoff calmly. " I assure you, however, that I have told 
 only the exact truth. Who can know about it so well as I 
 do ? Then perhaps you will not believe that our neighbor 
 Helen Tcheponzoff told me herself mark my words, told 
 me herself that she had murdered her own nephew." 
 
 " Another of your inventions ! " 
 
 " Excuse me, excuse me ! Listen, and judge for \ ourself. 
 Observe that I have no wish to malign her ; I like her as 
 much as one can like a woman. The almanac is the only 
 book to be found in her house, and she can't read except 
 
 aloud. Then, too, this exercise throws her into a perspira- 
 3 
 
34 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 tion, and she says it makes her eyes feel as if they were 
 going to drop out of her head. In a word, she is an excel- 
 lent woman, and she does not starve her servants; why 
 should I misrepresent her ? " 
 
 " Come, come 1 " said Daria ; " our Africanus Simeon- 
 ovitch has got on his hobby. He'll not get off again be- 
 fore evening." 
 
 " My hobby ! women have three, from which they 
 never get off, except perhaps when they are asleep." 
 
 " What are those three ? " 
 
 *' Recrimination, allusion, and reproach." 
 
 " But, Africanus Simeonovitch," said Daria, " you must 
 have some reason for being so bitter against women. 
 Some one must have " 
 
 " Offended me, do you mean ? " interrupted Pigasoff. 
 
 Daria was a little embarrassed ; she remembered Piga- 
 eoff's unhappy marriage, and she simply nodded her head. 
 
 " It is true, a woman did offend me," continued Pigasoff. 
 * And yet she was a good, a very good woman." 
 
 Who was it ? ' 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 35 
 
 " My mother," answered Pigasoff in a lower tone. 
 
 "Your mother? How could she have given you of- 
 fence?" 
 
 " By bringing me into the world." 
 
 Daria frowned. " It seems to me," she said, " that our 
 conversation has taken a turn which is not very amusing. 
 Constantine, play us that new fantaisie of Thalberg's. 
 Perhaps the sound of music will pacify you, Africanus. 
 Orpheus controlled the savage beasts." 
 
 Constantine seated himself at the piano and played the 
 piece very well. Natalie at first listened attentively, but 
 soon she resumed her work. 
 
 " Merci ; c'est charmant," said Daria ; " I am very fond of 
 Thalberg. // est si distingue. What are you thinking 
 about, Africanus ? " 
 
 " I was thinking," said he slowly, " that there are three , 
 sorts of egoists : those who live themselves and let others 
 live, those who live themselves and don't let others live, 
 and finally those who neither live themselves nor let others 
 live. Most women belong to the third class." 
 
\ 
 
 36 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " How amiable ! I am surprised at one thing, Africanug 
 Sirneonovitcli, and that is your blind confidence in your 
 own opinions, as if you could never be mistaken." 
 
 *' By no means. I too can make mistakes ; all men are 
 liable to error. But do you know what the difference is 
 between the mistakes of men and those of women ? You 
 don't know ? I will tell you. A man may say, for exam- 
 ple, that twice two makes, not four, but five ; a woman will 
 say that twice two makes a wax-candle." 
 
 " It seems to me that I have heard that before. But 
 allow me to ask you what connection there is between 
 your thought about the three sorts of egoism and the 
 music which we have just heard ? " 
 
 " None at all ; I did not even hear the music." 
 
 " Well, my friend, I see ' You are an incorrigible, I 
 withdraw,' " answered Daria, altering a line of Griboiedoff. 
 " What do you like then, if music has no charm for you ? 
 Possibly literature ? " 
 
 " I like literature, but not thaf , of the present day." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 37 
 
 " I will tell you. A short time ago I met a gentleman 
 on the ferry over the Oka. On the other side we came to 
 a steep shore ; the carriage had to be taken out by hand. 
 This gentleman's carriage was extremely heavy. While 
 the boatmen were at work dragging it ashore, he remained 
 on board the ferry-boat, groaning so that I almost pitied 
 him. ' There,' said I, ' is a new application of the division 
 of labor : this gentleman is like modern literature ; others 
 struggle and do the work, and it keeps up a groaning.' " 
 
 Daria Michaelovna smiled. 
 
 " And that is what is called the literary production of 
 our day," continued the indefatigable Pigasoff ; " a profound 
 sympathy for social questions, and Heaven knows what else 
 oh ! I detest these high-sounding phrases ! " 
 
 " But then, women, whom you are forever attacking, they 
 at least do not use any high-sounding phrases." 
 
 Pigasoff shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " If they don't use them, it is because they don't know 
 how." 
 
 Daria Michaelovna colored slightly. 
 
 
38 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 "You are beginning to be impertinent, Africanus Sim- 
 eonovitch ! " she said, with a forced smile. 
 
 There was a moment of perfect stillness in the room. 
 
 " Where is Zolotonocha ? " one of the boys suddenly 
 asked Bassistoff. 
 
 " In the province of Poltara, my dear boy," answered 
 Pigasoff, " in the centre of Little Russia." He was glad to 
 give another turn to the conversation. " We were speak- 
 ing about literature," he continued ; " if I had any money 
 to spare, I should become a Little Russian poet." 
 
 " That is something new ; a fine poet you would make," 
 answered Daria Michaelovna ; " do you know Little Rus- 
 sian?" 
 
 " Not at all ; but that makes no difference." 
 
 " No difference, and why not ? " 
 
 "It's very plain. You have only to take a sheet of 
 
 paper, and write at the top ' Duma ; ' l then you string 
 
 together a number of meaningless words, put in a few 
 
 Little Russian interjections, such as 'Woropaiel hopp I 
 
 * The name of the folksongs of Little Russia. Ta. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 39 
 
 hopp ! ' or something of that sort, and your poem is 
 done. Then you send it to the printer. The Little 
 Russian will read it, drop his head in his hands, and 
 you may be sure he will weep. He has such a sus- 
 ceptible soul ! " 
 
 "But for Heaven's sake," cried Bassistoff, "what are 
 you talking about ? It hasn't common sense. I have lived 
 in Little Russia, and I know the language. * Woropaie, 
 hopp ! hopp ! ' is perfect nonsense." 
 
 " Very likely, but the Little Russian will cry, all the 
 same. You say their language : is there a Little Russian 
 language ? I once asked a Little Russian to translate a 
 sentence for me, and how do you think he did it ? He 
 repeated the words just as I had pronounced them, except 
 that everywhere he changed every i into a French u. Is 
 that a separate language, or what is it ? Before I'd agree 
 to that, I would bray my best friend in a mortar." 
 
 Bassistoff was about to answer. 
 
 " Don't mind him," cried Daria ; " you know he ii 
 always uttering paradoxes." 
 
40 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 Pigasoff smiled maliciously. A servant entered to an 
 nounce Alexandra Paulovna and her brother. 
 
 Daria arose to receive her guests. 
 
 " How are you, Alexandrina ? " she said. " How kind 
 of you to come. How are you, Sergius Paulovitch ? " 
 
 Volinzoff pressed Daria's hand, and went towards 
 Natalie. 
 
 " Well, and your new acquaintance, the baron, is he 
 going to come to-day ? " asked Pigasoff. 
 
 " Yes, he is coming." 
 
 " He is said to be a great philosopher ; he is spouting 
 Hegel all the time." 
 
 Daria did not reply. She gave Alexandra a place on the 
 sofa, and sat down by her side. 
 
 " Philosophy ! " continued Pigasoff, " a lofty point of 
 view ! I am tired to death of this lofty point of view, 
 And what can you see from such a lofty point ? Does any 
 one climb a tower to look at the house he is going to buy ? " 
 
 " Is not the baron going to bring you an article ? " 
 asked Alexandra. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 41 
 
 "Yes; an article," answered Daria with an affecta- 
 tion of indifference, " on the commercial and industrial 
 relations of Russia. But don't be frightened ; we are 
 not going to read it now. It was not for that I invited 
 you. Le baron est aussi aimdble que savant. He speaks 
 such good Russian I (Test un vrai torrent . . . . il vous 
 entraine ! " 
 
 " He speaks Russian so well," muttered Pigasoff, " that 
 he has to be praised in French." 
 
 " Go on muttering, Africanus ; it suits your bushy hair. 
 But why doesn't he come ? But why shouldn't we all go 
 out into the garden ? We have nearly an hour before din- 
 ner, and the day is lovely." 
 
 They all arose and went into the garden. 
 
 Daria's garden extended to the river. It contained 
 many dark, odorous groves of old lime trees, with clumps 
 of acacia and lilac in the green expanse. 
 
 Volinzoff, Natalie, and Mademoiselle Boncourt entered 
 the thick shade. Volinzoff walked by the side of the 
 young girl, but in silence. 
 
42 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " What have you been doing to-day ? " Volinzoff at lasi 
 asked, twirling his brown moustache. 
 
 He was very like his sister, though his face was less 
 animated, and his soft, drooping eyes had a melancholy 
 expression. 
 
 "Not much," answered Natalie. "I have been listen- 
 ing to Pigasoff's abuse, I did some embroidery, and I 
 read." 
 
 " And what did you read ? " 
 
 " I read the History of the Crusades," said Natalie, 
 with a little hesitation. 
 
 Volinzoff looked at her. 
 
 " Oh," he said, after a pause; "that must be interest- 
 ing." 
 
 He plucked a twig from a tree and fanned himself with 
 it. They walked some twenty paces further. 
 
 "Who is this baron whose acquaintance your mother 
 has made ? " asked Volinzoff again. 
 
 " He is a gentleman of the bedchamber. He has jus 
 arrived. Mamma thinks very highly of him." 
 
. Dimitri Roudine. 43 
 
 " Your mother is very ready to follow her first impres- 
 sions." 
 
 " A proof that her heart is still young." 
 
 " Of course. I shall soon send you your horse. He is 
 almost entirely broken. I want to teach it to gallop, and 
 I shall succeed." 
 
 " Merci. But really you embarrass me. You are break- 
 ing him yourself. They say that is very hard." 
 
 " You know, Natalie Alexievna, that to do you the 
 slightest service, lam ready I should but not such 
 trifles" 
 
 He grew extremely confused. 
 
 Natalie glanced at him kindly, and thanked him again. 
 
 "You know," said Sergius Paulovitch, after a long 
 pause, " there is nothing but why say it ? You under- 
 ftand me." 
 
 At that moment the bell rang. 
 
 "Ah, the dinner bell!" said Mademoiselle Boncourt; 
 let us go in." 
 
 " Quel dommage" thought the old French lady to herself 
 
44 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 as she went up the terrace steps behind Natalie and Vol- 
 inzoff, " quel dommage que ce charmant garpon ait si pen de 
 ressources dan conversation," which may be translated, 
 You are very nice, my dear fellow, but a trifle stupid. 
 
 The baron did not come to dinner. They waited half 
 an hour for him. At table the conversation flagged. 
 Sergius Paulovitch did nothing but look at Natalie, by 
 whom he sat, and keep her glass always filled with water. 
 Pandalewski tried in vain to entertain his neighbor, Alex- 
 andra Paulovna. He almost melted with sweetness, while 
 she could hardly keep from yawning. Bassistoff rolled 
 little bread-balls, and thought of nothing ; even Pigasoff 
 was silent, and Daria said to him that he was not in good 
 humor on that day. He answered sullenly, " When am I 
 in good humor ? It is not my way ; " and he added with a 
 bitter smile, " be patient ; I am only kvass, plain Russian 
 kvass, 1 but your gentleman of the bedchamber " 
 
 " Bravo I " cried Daria, " Pigasoff is actually growing 
 jealous in anticipation ! " 
 
 1 A fermented drink very common in Russia. Ta. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 45 
 
 But Pigasoff did not answer ; he merely looked down 
 gloomily. Seven o'clock struck, and they all went back 
 to the parlor. 
 
 " It seems he is not coming," said Daria Michaelovna. 
 
 At that very moment there was heard the rolling 0f a 
 carriage. A little tarantars entered the court-yard, and a 
 few minutes later a servant came into the room, bringing 
 to Daria Michaelovna a letter on a silver salver. She read 
 it through, and turning to the servant, asked him, " Where 
 is the gentleman who brought the letter ? " 
 
 " He is in the carriage. Shall I bring him in ? " 
 
 " Yes ; ask him to come in." 
 
 The servant went out. 
 
 " Isn't it vexatious ! Only think," continued Daria 
 Michaelovna, " the baron nas been ordered to return to 
 St. Petersburg. He has sent me his article by his friend, 
 a Mr. Roudine. The baron was going to introduce him, 
 himself he speaks very highly of him. But how annoy- 
 ing it is. I hoped the baron would spend some time here.* 
 
 " Dimitri Nicolaitch Roudine," announced the servant. 
 
nr. 
 
 THERE entered the room a man about thirty-five years 
 old, tall, but somewhat round-shouldered, with thick, curly 
 hair, a dark complexion, and irregular but expressive and 
 intelligent features. His eyes, dark blue in color, were 
 bright, his nose broad and straight ; his lips were cleanly 
 cut. His clothes were not new, and they were a trifle small 
 for him, as if he had grown since they had been bought. 
 
 He stepped quickly towards Daria Michaelovna, made 
 her a low bow, and said that he had long been anxious to 
 have the honor of her acquaintance, and that his friend, 
 the baron, regretted extremely that he had been prevented 
 from coming to take leave of her. 
 
 Roudine's thin voice was not in keeping with either his 
 height or his broad chest. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 47 
 
 "Pray be seated. I am delighted to make your ac- 
 quaintance," said Daria, and after she had introduced 
 him to the assembled company she asked him if he lived 
 in that part of the country, or whether he was merely a 
 visitor. 
 
 " I live in the province of T ," answered Roudine, 
 
 holding his hat on his knees ; " I have been only a short 
 time here. I came here on business, and I am now living 
 in the town." 
 
 "With whom?" 
 
 " With the doctor. He is an old college friend of mine." 
 
 " Ah ! at the doctor's. Every one speaks very highly of 
 him. He is said to be a very skilful physician. Have you 
 known the baron long ? " 
 
 " I met him last whiter at Moscow, and I have spent 
 about a week with him." 
 
 " He is an extremely intelligent man." 
 
 " Yes, very intelligent." 
 
 Daria raised to her face her handkerchief, which wag 
 icented with cologne. 
 
48 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " Are you in the government-service ? " she asked. 
 
 "Who? I?" 
 
 "Yes, you." 
 
 " No ; I have resigned." 
 
 Then followed a short silence, after which the conver- 
 sation became general. 
 
 " Allow me to ask you," began Pigasoff, turning towards 
 Roudine, " whether you know the contents of the article 
 which the baron has sent ? " 
 
 I do." 
 
 " It is about the commerce, or rather, the relations of 
 manufactures to commerce in our country ; that, I think, 
 is what you were pleased to say, Daria Michaelovna ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is the subject," said Daria, raising her hand 
 to her head. 
 
 " I am of course a very poor judge of such matters," 
 continued Pigasoff, " but I must say that the very title of 
 the article seems to me how can I put it delicately ? 
 very obscure and confused." 
 
 How so ? " 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 49 
 
 Pigasoff smiled, and glanced at Daria Michaelovna. 
 
 " Does it seem clear to you ? " he asked, turning his fox- 
 like face towards Roudine. 
 
 " To me ? Why, yes, of course." 
 
 " Indeed. Naturally you know better than I do." 
 
 " Does your head ache ? " asked Alexandra Paulovna 
 of Daria Michaelovna. 
 
 " No, it's nothing c'est nerveux" 
 
 " Allow me to ask you," again began Pigasoff in a 
 slightly nasal voice, " does your acquaintance, Baron Muf- 
 fel that is his name, I believe ? " 
 
 " You are right." 
 
 " Does he occupy himself especially with political econ- 
 omy, or does he devote to this interesting study only the 
 leisure hours which he takes from his worldly pleasures 
 and his numerous occupations ? " 
 
 Roudine looked at Pigasoff attentively. 
 
 " In this subject the baron is only a dilettante," he an- 
 swered, blushing slightly, " but there is a great deal that 
 
 is true and interesting in his article." 
 
 4 
 
50 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 v " I am unable to discuss that with you, for I am wholly 
 ignorant of his work. But, may I ask you, is his article 
 more concerned with general principles than with facts ? " 
 
 " It contains facts, as well as theories which rest upon 
 the facts." 
 
 " Indeed. In my opinion if you will allow me, I may 
 say a word ; I spent three years at Dorpat all these so- 
 called general principles, these theories, and systems 
 excuse my frankness ; I am a provincial, and am not ac- 
 customed to mince matters are absolutely useless. They 
 are all abstractions invented to deceive people. Give us 
 facts, gentlemen, that is all we ask.'* 
 
 " Indeed," answered Roudine, " but ought not the mean- 
 ing of the facts to be explained ? " 
 
 " These universal theories ! " continued Pigasoff, " I can- 
 not endure these theories, points of view, and conclusions 
 They all rest on so-called convictions. Every one talks of 
 his convictions, asks others to respect them, to adopt them 
 Oh 1 " and he shook his fjst in the air. Pandalewski began 
 to laugh, 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 51 
 
 " Very good," said Roudine ; " so according to you there 
 are no such things as convictions ? " 
 
 " No, there are none." 
 
 " That is your conviction ? " 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Well, how can you say then that there are none ? You 
 have just expressed one." 
 
 All who were in the room smiled and looked at one an- 
 other. 
 
 " Just allow me " began Pigasoff again. 
 
 But Daria Michaelovna clapped her hands and cried, 
 " Bravo, bravo ! Pigasoff is beaten ! " while she took Rou- 
 dine's hat from his hands. 
 
 " Wait a moment before you express your joy ; have a 
 little patience," said Pigasoff peevishly. " It's not enough 
 to make a joke with an air of settling the whole question. 
 It must be disproved, refuted, but we are forgetting the 
 subject of our discussion." 
 
 " Excuse me, in your turn," began Roudine coolly. " The 
 matter lies in a nutshell. You do not believe in the util- 
 
52 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 ity of general theories; you have no belief in convic- 
 tions." 
 
 "I don't believe in them I don't believe in them, 
 I don't believe in anything." 
 
 " Very good. You are a sceptic." 
 
 "I don't see the need of using such a high-sounding 
 word. Still" 
 
 " Don't interrupt ! " cried Daria. 
 
 " The fight has begun," said Pandalewski to himself. 
 
 " That word expresses my meaning," continued Rou- 
 dine. " You understand it, why should I not use it ? You 
 believe in nothing. Why, then, do you believe in facts ? " 
 
 " Why ? Oh, that's delightful. A fact is something fa- 
 miliar ; every one knows what facts are. I judge of them 
 from experience, by my own senses." 
 
 " But your senses may be deceived. Your senses tell 
 you that the sun revolves around the earth, or or per- 
 haps you do not agree with Copernicus ? Perhaps you do 
 not believe in him ? " 
 
 A smile lit up every face ; the eyes of all were turned 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 53 
 
 towards Roudine. Every one thought, " He's an intelli - 
 gent man." 
 
 "You turn everything to ridicule," said PigasofF 
 " That is very original, but it does not advance matters at 
 all." 
 
 " There was, unfortunately, very little originality in what 
 I have been saying," answered Roudine. " It is all per- 
 fectly trite, it has been said thousands of times. But that 
 is not the question " 
 
 " What is, then ? " broke in Pigasoff rather impudently. 
 It was his habit, when discussing any question, to begin by 
 ridiculing his adversary ; then he would grow brutal, and 
 finally he would retire in sulky silence. 
 
 " The question is this," continued Roudine. " I confess 
 I cannot listen without pain to the attacks of intelligent 
 people on " 
 
 " On systems," interrupted Pigasoff. 
 
 "Well, as you please, on systems. Why do you so 
 especially dislike that word ? Every system is based on 
 a knowledge of the principles of life " 
 
54 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 "Yes, but how is one to know them, to discovel 
 them ? " 
 
 " Allow me. Naturally they are not accessible to every 
 one, and man is liable to mistake ; but you will probably 
 agree with me that Newton, for instance, discovered some 
 of the fundamental laws of the universe. It is true that 
 he was a man of genius, but the discoveries of a genius are 
 great, just in proportion as they are accessible to every- 
 body. This tendency to seek for general principles among 
 particular phenomena is one of the main characteristics of 
 the human mind, and our whole civilization " 
 
 " So that is what you are coming to," again interrupted 
 Pigasoff with a languid voice. " I am a practical man, and 
 averse to confusing myself with this metaphysical hair- 
 splitting." 
 
 " You are perfectly right. But yet you will notice that 
 this desire to be merely a practical man, is, after all, a sort 
 of system, a theory" 
 
 " Civilization, you said," continued Pigasoff without list- 
 ening to him. " You are trying to overcome us with that 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 55 
 
 word. What good is this boasted civilization to us ? Ai 
 for me. I would not give a farthing for it." 
 
 " But you are arguing very poorly, Africanus Simeono* 
 vitch," said Daria Michaelovna, who at heart was much 
 pleased with the calmness and unbroken politeness of her 
 new guest. " C*est un homme comme il faut" she thought, 
 looking kindly at Roudine. "1 must make friends with 
 him." These last words she said to herself in Russian. 
 
 " 1 shall not undertake the defence of civilization," con- 
 tinued Roudine, after a moment of silence. " It does not 
 need my defence. You don't like it, that's a matter of 
 taste. Besides, the discussion would lead us too far. Only 
 allow me to remind you of an old proverb : * You are an- 
 gry, Jupiter, therefore you are wrong.' I mean that all 
 these attacks on systems, general theories, etc., are espe- 
 cially to be regretted, because in denying the systems one 
 generally denies knowledge and science, and loses the con- 
 fidence which they inspire ; that is to say, confidence in 
 one's self, in one's own power. But human beings need 
 this confidence ; their impressions alone can never satisfy 
 
56 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 them. It is a sad Jung for them to fear thought and not 
 to believe in it. Scepticism only leads to sterility and 
 weakness" 
 
 " Those are mere words," muttered Pigasoff. 
 
 " Possibly ; but permit me to remark that by saying, 
 * Those are mere words/ we often try to get rid of the ne- 
 cessity of saying anything more sensible than those same 
 words." 
 
 " How so ? " asked Pigasoff, knitting his brows. 
 
 " You understand what I mean," answered Roudine with 
 an involuntary impatience, which he at once repressed ; " I 
 repeat it, if a man has no fixed principles in which he be- 
 lieves, if he has no firm ground on which to rest, how will 
 he be able to give an account of the needs, the destiny, the 
 future of his country ? How can he know what he has 
 himself to do, if" 
 
 " I surrender at once," suddenly said Pigasoff, bowing 
 and stepping to one side without looking at any one. 
 
 Roudine looked at him, smiled slightly, and was silent. 
 
 " Ah, he has taken to flight," began Daria Michaelovna, 
 
Dimitri Roudine. s . ^'57 
 
 -I/ '-v/, 
 
 " Don't let that disturb you, Dimitri excuse me,*' she 
 added with a pleasant smile, " what was your father's 
 name ? " 
 
 "Nicholas." 
 
 " Don't let that disturb you, Dimitri Nicolaitch. We 
 all see how the matter stands. He pretends he is unwill- 
 ing to discuss any more with you ; but the truth is, Jie feels 
 that he is unable. But draw nearer, and let us talk." 
 
 Roudine brought his chair forward. 
 
 " How is it that we have never met before ? " continued 
 Daria Michaelovna. " That surprises me. Have you 
 read this book ? C'est De Tocquevttle, vous savez" 
 
 Daria handed the French book to Roudine. He took 
 it, turned over a few pages, and said, after laying it down 
 on the table, that he had not read that volume of De 
 Tocqueville, but that he had thought a great deal about 
 the questions it treated. Conversation began at once. At 
 first Roudine seemed to hesitate, as if he could not find 
 words to express his thoughts, but gradually he became 
 excited and eloquent. In a quarter of an hour his voice 
 
58 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 alone was to be heard. They all collected around him, 
 Pigasoff remained, however, in a corner near the fire-place. 
 Roudine talked intelligently, with enthusiasm and good 
 sense ; he showed much knowledge and wide reading. No 
 one had expected to find him in any way a remarkable 
 man he was so poorly dressed they had never heard of 
 him before. It seemed strange, even incomprehensible, to 
 all, that so intelligent a man could appear so unexpectedly 
 there in the country. So much the more did he surprise 
 them ; indeed, he can be said to have fascinated them all, 
 beginning with Daria Michaelovna. She was proud of 
 her new acquaintance, and she was already meditating be- 
 forehand how she should introduce Roudine into society. 
 In spite of her age there was a great deal of youthful, nay 
 almost childish, enthusiasm in her first impressions. Alex- 
 andra Paulovna, to tell the truth, had understood but little 
 of Roudine's conversation, but she was no less surprised 
 and delighted. Her brother felt very much as she did. 
 Pandalewski watched Daria, and grew jealous. Pigasoff 
 said to himself, " For fifty rubles I could buy a nightin- 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 59 
 
 gale which would sing better." But the moit vividly im 
 pressed were Bassistoff and Natalie. Bassistoff scarcely 
 breathed ; he sat the whole time with open mouth and 
 staring eyes, listening as he had never listened before in 
 his life. As for Natalie, her face was flushed, and her 
 look, which was fastened on Roudine, had become darker 
 and more glowing at the same time. 
 
 " What handsome eyes he has 1 " whispered Volinzoff to 
 her. 
 
 " Yes, very handsome." 
 
 " But what a pity that his hands are so large and red." 
 
 Natalie made no reply. 
 
 Tea was brought in. The conversation became more 
 general, but from the sudden silence of every one the mo- 
 ment that Roudine opened his lips, it was easy to judge of 
 the impressions he had produced. It suddenly occurred t 
 Daria Michaelovna that she would draw Pigasoff out a 
 little. She stepped up to him and whispered, " Why do 
 you keep so quiet, and do nothing but smile so contemptu- 
 ously ? Try to attack him again." Then without await- 
 
60 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 ing his answer, she made a sign with her hand to Rou- 
 dine. 
 
 " There is one quality of his which you don't know," 
 said she, pointing to Pigasoff ; " he is a terrible misogynist ; 
 he is always attacking women. I wish you would try to 
 convert him." 
 
 Without meaning it, Roudine looked at Pigasoff from 
 head to foot ; he was at least a head taller. This made 
 Pigasoff extremely angry ; his sallow face grew pale. 
 
 " Daria Michaelovna is mistaken," he answered, with an 
 uncertain voice. " I don't detest women especially, but the 
 whole human race." 
 
 " What could have given you such a bad opinion of it? " 
 asked Roudine. 
 
 Pigasoff looked him straight in the face. 
 
 "Probably the study of my own heart, in which I 
 discover every day new worthlessness. I judge others 
 by myself. I am perhaps unjust, and I am worse than 
 the rest. But what would you have? The habit is 
 formed." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 6 1 
 
 "I understand you, and I sympathize witk you," an- 
 swered Roudine. " What noble soul has not felt the need 
 of humility as it contemplated itself? But ye^t on should 
 endeavor to escape from this sad condition." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for the patent of nobility 
 which you are kind enough to grant my soul," retorted 
 Pigasoff, " but I don't lament my condition. It is not so 
 bad ; and even if I knew any escape, I'm not ao sure that I 
 should make use of it." 
 
 " But that is the same thing excuse the expression 
 as preferring one's self-satisfaction to the desire of living 
 and being in the truth." 
 
 " Precisely," cried Pigasoff ; " self-satisfaction ! I under- 
 stand the word, and you, I hope, understand it, and every- 
 body else. As for the truth where is it ? " 
 
 "I really must tell you, you are repeating yourself," 
 said Daria Michaelovna. 
 
 Pigasoff shrugged his shoulders. " I ask where is the 
 truth ? Even philosophers don't know. Kant says, This 
 is it ; ' but Hegel replies, < No, it's this.' " 
 
62 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " And do you know what Hegel says about it ? " asked 
 Roudine without raising his eyes. 
 
 " I repeat it," said Pigasoff with warmth, " I cannot un- 
 derstand what the truth is. In my opinion there is none 
 in the world ; that is to say, the word is there, but the 
 thing does not exist." 
 
 " For shame ! " cried Daria Michaelovna. " You ought to 
 be ashamed to talk in that way, you old sinner. There 
 is no truth in the world ! What use is there in living, 
 then ? " 
 
 " At any rate," answered Pigasoff with bitterness, " it 
 would be easier for you to live without truth than with- 
 out your cook Stephen, who makes such good soup. And 
 tell me, please, what need have you of truth ? It does not 
 help one arrange one's ribbons." 
 
 " Such jesting is not answering," remarked Daria Mich- 
 aelovna, " especially when it descends to abuse." 
 
 " I don't know how it is with the truth, but to a great 
 many people, listening to it is painful," muttered Pigasoff, 
 withdrawing to his corner. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 63 
 
 As for Roudine, lie began to talk about self-love, and he 
 spoke of it very intelligently. He proved that a man who 
 lacked it was of no use, that this quality is the " lever of 
 Archimedes," by means of which the world can be moved ; 
 but that, at the same time, he alone deserves the name of 
 man who knows how to control his self-love, as a rider 
 does his horse, and to sacrifice his individuality for the 
 general good. 
 
 " Selfishness," he concluded, " is suicide. The selfish 
 man withers like a lonely, barren tree; but a self-love 
 which consists in a striving after perfection is the source 
 of all greatness. Yes, man ought to shatter the obstinate 
 egoism of his individuality, in order to be able to give 
 free expression to himself." 
 
 " Can you lend me a lead-pencil ? " said Pigasoff to 
 Bassistoff. 
 
 " A pencil what for ?" 
 
 " To write down Mr. Roudine's last sentence. If I don't 
 make a note of it I might forget it, and that would be a 
 great pity. It ought to be preserved." 
 
64 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " There are some things which ought not to be laughed 
 at and turned to ridicule," answered Bassistoff with some 
 warmth, turning his back on Pigasoff. 
 
 Meanwhile Roudine had moved towards Natalie. She 
 arose, while her face indicated her embarrassment. Volin- 
 zoff, who was sitting by her, arose too. 
 
 " Here is a piano," said Roudine ; " do you play ? " 
 
 "Yes," answered Natalie, "but there is Constantine 
 Diomiditch, who plays much better than I do." 
 
 Pandalewski raised his head and smiled. 
 
 " You do yourself injustice, Natalie Alexievna. I really 
 don't play any better than you." 
 
 " Do you know Schubert's ' Erlkb'nig ' ? " asked Rou- 
 dine. 
 
 " Of course," answered Daria Michaelovna. " Go to the 
 piano, Constantine. Are you fond of music, Dimitri Nico- 
 laitch ? " 
 
 Roudine merely bowed slightly, and ran his hand through 
 las hair, as if he were ready to listen. Constantine began. 
 
 .Natalie stood at the side of the piano, opposite Roudine, 
 
Dimitri Roiidine. 65 
 
 whose face lit up at the first notes. His dark-blue eyes 
 wandered here and there, occasionally resting for a mo- 
 ment on Natalie. Constantine stopped. 
 
 Roudine said nothing. He walked to the open window. 
 A mist, heavy with the rich fragrance of the flowers, hung 
 like a veil over the garden. From the trees breathed a 
 gentle, refreshing coolness. The stars sparkled slowly. 
 Delicious was this summer night ; calmness covered every- 
 thing. Roudine gazed into the dark garden for a few 
 moments and then turned round. 
 
 " To-night's music reminds me of my university days in 
 Germany, our meetings, our serenades " 
 
 " You have been in Germany ? " asked Daria Michael- 
 ovna. 
 
 " I studied a year at Heidelberg, and almost as long at 
 Berlin." 
 
 " And you dressed like the students ? I understand 
 they have a peculiar costume." 
 
 " At Heidelberg I used to wear high boots and spurs, 
 
 and a short embroidered coat. I also used to let my hair 
 5 
 
66 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 grow down over my shoulders. In Berlin, the students 
 dress like everybody else." 
 
 " Tell us something of your student life," said Alexandra 
 Paulovna. 
 
 Roudine began his account. He did not have the gift 
 of narration. His descriptions lacked color. He did not 
 know how to make his hearers laugh. Soon he dropped 
 the account of his adventures in foreign parts for general 
 reflections on the aim of civilization and science, on uni- 
 versities and university life in general. He sketched a 
 large picture with bold, broad outlines. All listened to him 
 with eager attention. He spoke like a master, with an 
 irresistible fascination, not always clearly but this very 
 vagueness lent a charm to his words. 
 
 The richness of his ideas prevented Roudine from 
 expressing himself with exactness and accuracy. One 
 image followed another ; comparisons, now unusually bold, 
 again remarkably apt, followed one another in generous 
 profusion. There was none of the straining after effect 
 of the professional talker, but genuine inspiration ani- 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 67 
 
 mated his wonderful flow of words. lie never sought for 
 expressions ; his words flowed readily and obediently to 
 his lips, and one would have said that every one of them 
 came straight from his heart, still glowing with the fire of 
 conviction. Roudine possessed to the highest degree 
 what might be called the music of eloquence. He had 
 the art, by touching certain chords of the heart, to make 
 them all vibrate together. It may have been that one or 
 another of his hearers did not perfectly understand him, 
 but yet he felt his breast heaving, scales seemed to fall 
 from his eyes, something seemed aglow before him in the 
 distance. ^ 
 
 Roudine' s thoughts, all turned towards the future, lent 
 his face the fire of youth. Standing by the window, not 
 looking at any one, he spoke, inspired by the beauty of the 
 night, the general attention and sympathy, as well as by 
 the presence of the young women. Carried on by the 
 warmth of his own emotion he rose to eloquence, nay, even 
 to poetry. The very sound of his voice, sonorous and calm, 
 doubled the charm. It seemed as if from his mouth there 
 
68 Dimitri .Roudine. 
 
 spoke something higher, something which even he himself 
 
 ( did not understand Roudine was speaking of what 
 
 lent an eternal meaning to the brief life of man. 
 
 " I remember," he said in closing, " an old Scandinavian 
 legend. The king and his warriors were in a long, dark 
 hall around a fire. It was night, and in the winter-time. 
 Suddenly a little bird flew in at one door and out by an- 
 other. The king said, ' That bird is like man on the face 
 of the earth ; he flies hither out of the darkness, arid he 
 flies back again into darkness, and he only stays for a mo- 
 ment in the light and warmth.' * Sire,' answered the oldest 
 of the warriors, ' the bird is not lost in the darkness ; he 
 will find his nest again.' Without doubt our life is brief; 
 but everything great is done by men. The consciousness 
 of being the instrument of higher powers must console for 
 
 the absence of all other joys ; in death itself man will find 
 
 *. 
 
 , - his life, his nest." Roudine stopped and lowered his eyes 
 
 with involuntary emotion. 
 
 " Vous etes un poete ! " said Daria Michaelovna in an 
 undertone. 
 
Dimitri Rondine. 69 
 
 All agreed with her in their hearts, except Pigasoff. 
 Without awaiting the end of Roudine's long speech he had 
 quietly taken his hat and gone away, whispering, as he left, 
 to Pandalewski, who was standing by the door, 
 
 " The sane people are too much for me. I am going to 
 visit the lunatics." 
 
 But no one thought of detaining him, nor was his ab- 
 sence remarked. 
 
 The table was set for supper, and half an hour later the 
 company separated. Daria Michaeldvna had persuaded 
 Roudine to stay there all night. Alexandra Paulovna 
 drove back with her brother. On their way home she ut- 
 tered many exclamations, and expressed great surprise at 
 Roudine's wonderful intelligence. Volinzoff agreed with 
 her, but he said that he did not always express himself 
 clearly ; " that is to say, not so as to be convincing," he 
 added, probably intending to explain his meaning ; and his 
 face darkened and his look grew more melancholy as it 
 fixed itself on the opposite corner of the carriage. 
 
 " He's a clever fellow," said Pandalewski aloud, as he 
 
70 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 unfastened his silk braces while undressing himself; then 
 with a harsh glance at his servant, a little Cossack, he bade 
 him leave the room. Bassistoff did not sleep all night ; he 
 did not even take off his clothes ; until daybreak he sat 
 writing a letter to one of his friends in Moscow. 
 
 Nor did Natalie close her eyes that night. Lying in her 
 bed, with her head resting on her arm, she gazed into the 
 darkness ; her pulse beat as in a fever, and many a deep 
 sigh escaped from her perturbed breast. 
 
V. 
 
 ON the next morning Koudine had hardly finished dress- 
 ing before a servant came to his room with an invita- 
 tion from Daria Michaelovna to come to her boudoir and 
 take a cup of tea. Roudine found her alone. She wel- 
 comed him very warmly, asked if he had slept well, and 
 poured out his tea herself, put in the sugar, and offered him 
 a cigarette ; then she again expressed her surprise that she 
 had never met him before. Roudine had seated himself at 
 a little distance ; but Daria Michaelovna offered him an 
 arm-chair near her sofa, and turning towards him, began 
 to make inquiries about his relatives, his plans, and hig 
 projects. 
 
 Daria spoke lazily, and did not listen very attentively, 
 but Roudine saw that she was trying to be polite to him, 
 
72 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 indeed, that she was even flattering him. It was not 
 without purpose that she had arranged this morning inter- 
 view, and that she had chosen a plain but becoming dress, 
 a la Madame Recamier. However, she soon ceased asking 
 him questions, and began to talk about herself, her youth, 
 and the persons she had known. Roudine listened with 
 interest ; but strange to say no matter of whom Daria 
 Michaelovna spoke, she always introduced herself as the 
 main figure, so that he soon learned what she had said to 
 such or such an eminent person, or what influence she 
 had had upon some eminent writer. Judging from Daria 
 Michaelovna's conversation, all the distinguished persons 
 of the time had wished for nothing except to make her 
 acquaintance and deserve her good-will. She spoke of 
 them very simply, without especial enthusiasm, as of people 
 who belonged to her, calling some of them very odd sticks, 
 but stringing their names together like gems in a costly 
 coronet about the name of Daria Michaelovna. 
 
 Roudine listened, smoking his cigarette in silence ; only 
 now and then he interrupted with brief remarks the lady's 
 
Dimitri Roitdine. 73 
 
 loquacity. Although he was naturally eloquent and fond 
 of talking, he knew how to listen, and those who were not 
 
 frightened by his fluency soon expressed themselves freely 
 
 ' 
 in his presence, so much kindness did he show in listening 
 
 to what another might say. He was very good-natured, as 
 those are apt to be who are accustomed to feel themselves 
 superior to the company they are in. In a discussion, he 
 rarely let his opponent have the last word ; he overcame 
 him with his eager, impassionate language. Daria Michael- 
 ovna spoke Russian, and seemed proud of her familiarity 
 with her mother-tongue, although she made use of a great ' 
 many French words and expressions. She tried to employ 
 simple and popular expressions, but not always with perfect 
 success. Roudine was not overmuch offended by the jar- 
 gon which poured from Daria Michaelovna's mouth. At 
 last she grew tired ; she let her head fall on the sofa cushion 
 and looked at Roudine. 
 
 " Xow I understand," he began slowly, " I understand 
 why you pass every summer in the country. You need 
 repose, calmness ; after the bustling life of the city you 
 
 : 
 
^4 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 have to rest. I am convinced that you have a keen feeling 
 for the beauties of nature." 
 
 Daria glanced at him quickly. 
 
 " Nature ? Oh, yes, yes, of course ; I do indeed love 
 it, but you know, Dimitri Nicolaitch, even in the country a 
 little society is necessary. Here I hardly see any one, 
 Pigasoff is the cleverest man here." 
 
 " The man who got so angry yesterday ? " asked Roudine, 
 
 " Yes. In the country he is by no means to be despised 
 he's amusing at times." 
 
 " He has some intelligence,' answered Roudine, " but 
 he's on a wrong path. I don't know whether you agree 
 with me, Daria Michaelovna, but, in my opinion, there is 
 nothing to be said in defence of unlimited, complete nega- 
 tion. Deny everything and possibly you will be considered 
 intelligent ; that is a well-known device. Ignorant people 
 will readily suppose that you are better than every thin- 
 which you deny ; but that is often false. In the first j lar 
 it is easy to spy out faults in everything, and then, if V* 
 are in the right, so much tire worse for you. Your ir 
 
Dimitri Rotidine. 77 
 
 " She is very attractive," remarked Roudine. 
 
 " She is a perfect child, Diinitri Nicolaitch, as innocent 
 as a child. She has been married, mais c'est tout comme. 
 If I were a man I should fall in love with just such 
 women." 
 
 " Really ? " 
 
 " Without doubt ; such women have at least freshness, 
 and that can't be imitated." 
 
 " And can everything else be imitated ? " asked Roudine 
 with a laugh, which was seldom seen on his face. When- 
 ever he laughed his face assumed a very strange expression 
 which gave him the appearance of an old man ; his eyes 
 closed, his nose wrinkled. " And who is this eccentric of 
 whom you were speaking, and in whom Madame Lipina is 
 interested ? " he asked. 
 
 " A certain Leschnieff Michael Michaelovitch ; he has 
 a place in the neighborhood." 
 
 Roudine started and raised his head. 
 
 " Leschnieff Michael Michaelovitch ? " he asked ; " is 
 he a neighbor of yours ? " 
 
78 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " Yes. Do you know him ? " 
 
 Roudine did not answer at once. 
 
 " I used to know him a long time ago. H( is said to 
 be rich ? " he continued, playing with the fr. nge of his 
 chair. 
 
 " He is rich, but he dresses horribly and drives about in 
 a droschke, like an overseer. I have tried to get him here. 
 He is said to be very clever. I am now arranging some 
 business matters with him .... you know I manage my 
 estate myself? " 
 
 Roudine bowed. 
 
 "Yes, I do it myself," continued Daria Michaelovna. 
 " I don't try any foreign improvements. I follow the Rus- 
 sian ways ; and you see everything goes on very well," she 
 added, pointing to the surrounding objects. 
 
 " I have always been convinced of the complete error of 
 those who deny the existence of practical sense in women." 
 
 Daria Michaelovna smiled pleasantly. 
 
 " You are very kind," she said, " but what was I going 
 to say ? What were we talking about ? Oh, yes, abouf 
 
Dimitri Rottdine. 79 
 
 Leschnieff. I have to talk with him about some surveying. 
 I have often invited him to come and see me, and I expect 
 him to-day ; but he never comes he's so eccentric." 
 
 The curtain which hung before the door was raised and 
 the steward entered. He was a tall, gray-haired, some- 
 what bald man, wearing a black dress-coat, a white neck- 
 tie, and a white waistcoat. 
 
 " What do you want ? " asked Daria Michaelovna, and 
 turning a little towards Roudine, she asked him in French, 
 " Does he not look like Canning ? " 
 
 "Michael Michaelovitch Leschnieff has arrived,'* said 
 the steward ; " shall I bring him here ? " 
 
 " Ah, heavens ! " cried Daria Michaelovna, " just as we 
 were speaking of him. Invite him to this room." 
 
 The man left the boudoir. 
 
 " This singular man is come at last, and at an unfor- 
 tunate time. He interrupts our conversation." 
 
 Roudine was about to leave, but Daria Michaelovna 
 made him stay. 
 
 " Where are you going ? We can talk about this matter 
 
8o Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 in your presence, and besides I want to have you describe 
 him to me as you have Pigasoff. When you speak, vous 
 gravez comme avec un burin. Stay." 
 
 Roudine was apparently about to answer, but he thought 
 a moment and said nothing. 
 
 Michael Michaelovitch, whom the reader already knows, 
 entered the room. He wore the same old coat, and held in 
 his sun-burned hands the same old cap. He saluted Daria 
 Michaelovna quietly, and walked up to the table. 
 
 " You have at last been good enough to call, Mr. Lesch- 
 nieff," said Daria Michaelovna. " Pray be seated. I 
 believe you know this gentleman," she added, pointing 
 towards Roudine. 
 
 Leschnieff looked at Roudine, and smiled rather oddly. 
 
 " I know Mr. Roudine," he said with a slight bow. 
 
 " We were at the university together," remarked Rou- 
 dine in a low voice, and casting down his eyes. 
 
 " And have met since," said Leschnieff, coldly. 
 
 Daria Michaelovna looked at both with some surprise 
 and offered Leschnieff -a seat, which he took. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 81 
 
 " You wanted to see me," he began, " about the sur- 
 veys ? " 
 
 " Yes, about the surveys, and also for the pleasure of 
 making your acquaintance. We are neighbors and almost 
 relatives." 
 
 "I am much obliged to you," answered Leschnieff. 
 "As to the surveys, I have come to an agreement 
 about them with your overseer; I consent to everything 
 he proposes." 
 
 " I knew you would." 
 
 11 But he told me we could not sign the papers until I 
 had had an interview with you." 
 
 " Yes, that is my habit. May I ask you if it is true that 
 all your serfs pay you rent V " 
 
 " It is true." 
 
 " And yet you interest yourself in the surveying ? That 
 is very commendable of you." 
 
 Leschnieff did not answer for a moment. 
 
 " You see I came for this interview." 
 
 Daria Michaelovna smiled. " I see that you came. You 
 
82 Dimitri Rotidine. 
 
 say that in such a strange way, I am sure that you did not 
 want to come." 
 
 " I never go anywhere," answered Leschnieff, phleg- 
 matically. 
 
 " Not anywhere ? But you call on Alexandra Paulovna ? " 
 
 " I am an old friend of her brother." 
 
 " Her brother ! Still, I don't compel any one. But you 
 will excuse me, Michael Michaelovitch, I am older than 
 you and may be permitted to find fault with you ; how can 
 you take any pleasure in leading so retired a life ? Is it 
 my house perhaps that you don't like ? or perhaps you 
 don't like me ? " 
 
 " I don't know you, Daria Michaelovna, and so how can 
 I dislike you ? Your house is very handsome ; but I con- 
 fess frankly I don't like to take the trouble. I have no 
 suitable coat, no gloves ; I don't belong to your set." 
 
 "By birth and education you do, Michael Michaelo- 
 vitch. Vous etes des notres" 
 
 " Let us leave birth and education out of the discussion, 
 Daria Michaelovna. That is not the point." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 83 
 
 " Man ought to live with his kind, Michael Michaelovitch. 
 What pleasure have you in living like Diogenes in his 
 tub ? " 
 
 " In the first place, he was very comfortable there ; and 
 in the second, how do you know that I do not live among 
 people?" 
 
 Daria Michaelovna bit her lips. 
 
 " That is another matter. I have only to regret that 
 I am not one of those whom you deem worthy of your 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " It seems to me," broke in Roudine, " that Mr. Lesch- 
 nieff carries to excess what in itself is a very praiseworthy 
 feeling the love of liberty." 
 
 Leschnieff made no answer ; he simply looked at Rou- 
 dine. There was a moment of silence. 
 
 " So," said Leschnieff, rising, " I may consider our busi- 
 ness as settled, and may tell your overseer to bring over 
 the papers for me to sign." 
 
 " You may .... although you are not at all amiable 
 
 ... I ought to refuse." 
 
84 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " But this survey will bring you more profit than it doe 
 me." 
 
 Daria Michaelovna shrugged her shoulders. " And you 
 won't stay and breakfast with us ? " 
 
 " Thank you very much, I never eat any breakfast, and 
 besides, I must go home." 
 
 Daria Michaelovna arose. "I won't detain you any 
 longer," she said, going towards the window ; " I don't dare 
 detain you." 
 
 Leschnieff bade them good morning. 
 
 " Good-by, Mr. Leschnieff. Excuse me for boring 
 you." 
 
 " You have not bored me," he said, going out. 
 
 " What do you think of him ? " asked Daria of Roudine. 
 " I had heard that he was eccentric, but this exceeds every- 
 thing." 
 
 " He suffers in the same way as Pigasoff," answered 
 Roudine, " from a desire to appear original. One pretends 
 to be a Mephistopheles, the other a cynic. In it all there 
 is a great deal of egoism, a great deal of selfishness, little 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 85 
 
 truth, little love. " In another way, it is a sort of calcula- 
 tion ; one puts on a mask of indifference and idleness, to 
 make others say, ' That man hides a great deal of light 
 beneath a bushel ! ' But if you examine closely, there is 
 no light there." 
 
 " Et de deux ! " said Daria Michaelovna. " You are a 
 terrible man at defining character. No one escapes you." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " said Roudine. " Still, to be just," 
 he continued, " I ought not to say anything about Lesch- 
 nieff. I loved him once, loved him as a friend. After- 
 wards, in consequence of some misunderstanding " 
 
 " You quarrelled ? " 
 
 " No, we had no quarrel ; we separated, and, I think, 
 separated forever." 
 
 " That's the reason, I noticed that you were ill at ease 
 
 during his visit I am much obliged to you for a 
 
 pleasant morning. I have enjoyed it very much. But 
 everything in moderation ! I give you leave of absence 
 until breakfast-time ; now I must attend to business. My 
 secretary, you have seen him Constantine is my secre- 
 
86 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 tary is probably waiting for me now. I commend him 
 to you. He is a most worthy young man, very obliging, 
 and enthusiastic about you. Good-by, then, dear Dimitri 
 Nicola'itch. How indebted I am to the baron for giving 
 me the opportunity of making your acquaintance." 
 
 Daria Michaelovna held out her hand to Koudine. He 
 first shook it, then raised it to his lips, and went out intc 
 the hall, and thence upon the terrace, where he met 
 Natalie. 
 
VI. 
 
 IT was by no means unlikely that one would not at first ' 
 lie attracted by Daria's daughter, Natalie Alexievna. Thia 
 and dark, she had not yet ^reached her full growth, and 
 she did not hold herself perfectly straight. Her features, 
 although rather marked for a girl of seventeen, were noble 
 and regular. Especially beautiful was the clear, smooth 
 forehead, which rose above her gently arching eyebrows. 
 She spoke very little, but when any one was talking she 
 listened and looked attentively, almost fixedly, at him, as 
 if she was unwilling to let anything escape her. She 
 would often sit motionless, sunk in thought, her arms hang- 
 ing by her side ; at such times her face expressed the pro- 
 foundness of her abstraction A hardly perceptible 
 
 smile played about her lips and disappeared again; her 
 
88 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 large dark eyes lifted themselves up slowly. " Qu'avez- 
 vous?" Mademoiselle Boncourt used to ask, and then 
 would begin to scold her, telling her it was not proper for 
 ^a young lady to drop her head and be so absent-minded. 
 >/" But Natalie was not absent-minded ; on the contrary, 
 she studied earnestly, and was fond of reading and work- 
 ing. Her feelings were keen and deep, although she was 
 reserved ; in her childhood she had hardly ever cried ; 
 now she seldom even sighed, and only grew pale when 
 anything troubled her. Her mother considered her a well- 
 behaved, reasonable child, and used to call her in jest, 
 mon konnete homme dejille, but she had no very high opinion 
 of her intellectual powers. 
 
 " Fortunately, my Natalie is cold," she used to say. 
 " She's not like me so much the better ! She will be 
 nappy." Daria Michaelovna was mistaken. Besides, it 
 is seldom that a mother fully understands her daughter. 
 
 Natalie loved Daria Michaelovna, but she did not have 
 perfect confidence in her. 
 
 "You have nothing to conceal from me," said her 
 
Dimitri Rondine. 89 
 
 mother to her one day, "but if you had, you would 
 make a great mystery of it. You have your own little 
 head." 
 
 Natalie looked at her mother and thought, " And why 
 shouldn't I have my own head ? " 
 
 When Roudine met her on the terrace, she was going 
 into her room with Miss Boncourt to get her hat and walk 
 in the garden. Her morning occupations were finished. 
 She was no longer treated as a child ; Miss Boncourt had 
 long since ceased instructing her in mythology and geog- 
 raphy, but she made her read every morning a chapter of 
 history or of a book of travels, or some other instruc- 
 tive work. Daria Michaelovna made the choice as if she 
 were following some system ; but in fact she gave Natalie 
 everything which her French bookseller in St. Petersburg 
 sent her, except naturally the novels of Alexandre Dumas, 
 Fils & Co. ; these she kept for herself. When Natalie was 
 reading history Miss Boncourt scowled with great severity 
 behind her glasses; the old French lady considered all 
 history to be full of things which were only harmful tc 
 
90 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 know, although her knowledge included only Cambyses in 
 ancient times, and Louis XIV. and Napoleon, whom she 
 hated, in modern history. But Natalie used to read books 
 J of which Miss Boncourt had never heard ; she knew Pouch- 
 kine by heart. 
 
 Natalie blushed slightly as she met Roudine. 
 
 " Are you going to walk ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes ; we are going into the garden." 
 
 " Will you let me go with you ? " 
 
 Natalie looked at Miss Boncourt, who answered, " Cer- 
 tainly, sir ; we should be glad to have you." 
 
 Roudine took his hat and followed them. 
 
 At first Natalie was a little embarrassed at walking by 
 Roudine's side, but she soon recovered herself. He began 
 to question her about her occupations and the pleasure she 
 had in the country. She answered a little timidly, but 
 without that uneasy self-consciousness which is sometimes 
 mistaken for modesty. 
 
 "Do you never get tired of the country?" asked Re UP 
 dine, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. 
 
'' 
 
 Dimitri Roudine. ^ J * / 
 
 //- 
 " How can one be tired of the ooun^ \ I amicb^ighted 
 
 to be here. I am very happy here.'* ****/* ? 
 
 ' J /* f 
 
 "You are happy 1 That's a great word. <But it'$' nat- 
 ural enough ; you are young." 
 
 Roudine pronounced this word in a strange way, as if 
 both envy and pity moved him. 
 
 " Yes, youth 1 " he added. " The great aim of science 
 is to give us by means of work what youth gives us gra- 
 tuitously." 
 
 Natalie looked at Roudine attentively ; she had not un- 
 derstood him. 
 
 " I have been talking most of the morning with your 
 mother," he continued, " an extraordinary woman. I can 
 understand why all our poets so valued her friendship. 
 Do you too like poetry ? " he added, after a moment of 
 silence. 
 
 " He's examining me," thought Natalie, and she an- 
 swered, " Yes, I like it very much." 
 
 " Poetry is the language of the gods. I too am fond of / 
 poetry. But not in verses alone do we find poetry ; it is 
 
92 Dimitn Roudine. 
 
 everywhere ; it is all around us. Look at the trees, the 
 sky ; from all sides stream forth life and beauty ; where 
 there is life and beauty, there is poetry. Let us sit down 
 on this bench," he continued. " So ; I don't know why, 
 but it seems to me that when we are better acquainted we 
 shall be " and he looked with a smile into her eyes 
 very good friends. What do you think about it ? " 
 
 " He treats me like a child," thought Natalie again, and, 
 uncertain what she ought to say, she asked him how long 
 he intended to stay in the country. 
 
 " All summer, the autumn, and perhaps through the win- 
 ter. You know I am not rich ; besides, I'm beginning to 
 get tired of the perpetual change of place. It is time for 
 me to give myself a little rest." 
 
 Natalie looked at him with surprise. 
 
 Do you really find that it is time for you to rest ? " she 
 asked timidly. 
 
 Roudine fixed his eyes upon her. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " 
 
 " I meant to say," she answered with some embarrass- 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 93 
 
 mcnt, " that others may seek rest, but that you . . . you 
 ought to work and try to make yourself useful. Who will 
 do it, if you do not ? " 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for your flattering opinion," 
 interrupted Roudine; "be useful that is easily said," 
 and he rubbed his hand over his face. " Useful ! " he re- 
 peated. " If I could only know how I could be of use 
 if I only had confidence in my own powers, where could I 
 find sincere and sympathetic souls ? " 
 
 Roudine let his hand fall with so despondent an air 
 and dropped his head so sadly that Natalie could not 
 help asking if he were indeed the man who on the. 
 evening before had spoken with such enthusiasm and 
 confidence. 
 
 " But no," he added, shaking his lion-like mane, " that is 
 nonsense, and you are right. I thank you, Natalie Alex- 
 ievna, I thank you heartily." Natalie did not know why 
 he thanked her. " A word from you has reminded me of 
 
 my dutj-, has shown me the way Yes, I must work. 
 
 If I have talents I must not bury them. I ought not to 
 
94 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 waste my powers in empty, useless babble, in vain 
 words." .... 
 
 And his words flowed as from a spring. He spoke ad- 
 mirably, enthusiastically, against cowardice and idleness, 
 about the necessity of working. He reproached himself, 
 proved to himself that to discuss in advance what one was 
 going to do was as unwise as to prick with a pin fruit that 
 was on the point of ripening ; it was a mere waste of force 
 in both cases. He declared that a noble thought never 
 failed to 'awaken sympathy, that those alone were misunder- 
 stood who did not themselves know what they wanted, or 
 who deserved their fate. He spoke for a long time, and con- 
 cluded with thanking Natalie again, and, pressing her hand 
 suddenly, he added, " You are a charming, noble being ! " 
 
 This liberty astounded Miss Boncourt. In spite of the 
 forty years she had spent in Russia, she understood Rus- 
 sian with great difficulty, and admired only the fluent ease 
 of Roudine's remarks. In her eyes he was only a sort of 
 virtuoso or artist, and such people could not be held to too 
 strict a regard of conventionalities. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 95 
 
 She rose, arranged her skirts, and told Natalie it was 
 time to go back, especially because Mr. Volinzoff was 
 going to breakfast with them. 
 
 " There he is now," she added, glancing at one of the 
 paths which led towards the house. 
 
 And in fact, Volinzoff w,as coming towards them. He 
 approached irresolutely, greeted all from a distance, and 
 turning towards Natalie with suffering marked upon 
 his face, he said to her, " Ah ! you were taking your 
 walk?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Natalie. " We were just going back 
 to the house." 
 
 " Indeed ; let us go." 
 
 And they all started towards the house. 
 
 " How is your sister ? " asked Roudine with an espe- 
 cially courteous voice. On the evening before, too, he had 
 treated him with great kindness. 
 
 " Thank you very much, she is very well. Perhaps she 
 will come to-day. I think you were talking when I came 
 np!" 
 
96 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 "Yes, we were talking. Natalie Alexievna had said 
 omething which made a great impression upon me.'" 
 
 Volinzoff did not ask what she had said, and in un- 
 btoken silence they all reached the house. 
 
 .They met again in the parlor before dinner, but Piga- 
 soft did not appear. Roudine seemed rather out of spirits, 
 and he kept asking Pandalewski to play something of 
 Beethoven. Volinzoff said nothing, and kept his eyes 
 fastened on the ground. Natalie did not stir from her 
 mother's side ; at one moment she was lost in thought, and 
 the next she was busy with her work. Bassistoff simply 
 stared at Roudine, waiting for him to utter one of his intel- 
 ligent remarks. Three hours passed thus uneventfully. 
 Alexandra Paulovna did not come to dinner, and as soon 
 as the meal was finished, Volinzoff had his carriage 
 brought to the door, and he drove away without taking 
 leave of any one. 
 
 He felt very ill at ease. For a long time he had been 
 in love with Natalie, but he had never ventured to confess 
 his passion, and this state of uncertainty was the cause of 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 97 
 
 great suffering to him. She was always glad to see him, 
 but her heart was calm ; he never deceived himself with 
 respect to the emotion he excited. He had never hoped 
 to arouse a tenderer feeling, and only waited for the time 
 to come when she would be thoroughly accustomed to him 
 and would consent to accept him. But what could have 
 so disturbed Volinzoff' to-day ? What change had he 
 noticed in this short time ? Natalie had treated him as 
 she always did. 
 
 Was it the sudden thought that perhaps he did not un- 
 derstand Natalie's character, and that she was not so near 
 
 him as he had imagined ? Was he jealous ? Had he a 
 
 '^ji 
 presentiment of some misfortune ? .... At any rate he 
 
 suffered, in spite of all his attempts to control himself. 
 
 On reaching his sister's house he found Leschnieff 
 there. 
 
 " What made you come back so early?" asked Alex- 
 andra Paulo vn a. 
 
 " I don't know ; I was bored." 
 
 " Was Roudine there ? " 
 
 7 
 
98 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " He was." 
 
 Volinzoff threw his cap to one side, and sat down. 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna turned towards him qu ckly. 
 
 " Please, Sergius, help me to convince this obstinate 
 man," pointing to Leschnieft', "that Roudine is uncom- 
 monly intelligent and really eloquent." 
 
 Volinzoff muttered a few unintelligible words. 
 
 " I don't contradict you in the least," began Leschnieff. 
 " I don't deny his intelligence and eloquence, I only say I 
 don't like him." 
 
 " Have you ever seen him ? " asked Volinzoff. 
 
 "I saw him this morning at Daria Michaelovna's," 
 answered Leschnieff. " He is now the Great Mogul there. 
 The time will come when they will quarrel. Pandalewski 
 is the only person whom she will never abandon ; but now 
 Roudine has it all his own way. Yes, indeed, I saw him. 
 He was sitting there, and she showed me to him as if she 
 was saying, ' There, my friend, see what queer fellows we 
 have about here 1 ' I'm not a piece of fancy stock, to \>Q 
 trotted out before visitors ; so, I left at once." 
 
Dimitri Roiidine. 99 
 
 " And what had you gone for ? " 
 
 " About some surveying ; but that was a mere pretence, 
 she only wanted to see me. A fine lady .... we know 
 all about that." 
 
 " Roudine's superiority is what offends you," said Alex- 
 andra Paulovna warmly ; " that is what you can't forgive. 
 But I am sure that his heart is as good as his head. Only 
 look at his eyes when he " 
 
 " Speaks of lofty virtue," said Leschnieff, quoting a line 
 of Griboiedoff. 
 
 " You will make me angry, and then I shall cry. I am 
 really sorry I stayed here with you and did not go to 
 Daria's. You don't deserve such kindness. Now don't 
 tease me any more," she added plaintively. " Tell me 
 something about his youth." 
 
 " Of Roudine's youth ? " 
 
 " Yes ; why not ? You told me, you remember, that you 
 had known him for a long time, and very well." 
 
 Leschnieff arose and began to walk up and down the 
 room. 
 
loo Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " Yes," he began, " I know him well. You want me to 
 tell you about his early life ? Very well. He was born 
 
 in T . His father was a poor man who had an estate 
 
 there. He died young and left this only child to his moth- 
 er's care. She was an excellent woman and devoted to 
 her son. She half starved herself that he might not lack 
 money. He was educated at Moscow. At first it was 
 one of his uncles who paid his expenses ; afterwards, when 
 Roudine had grown up and put on all his fine feathers, 
 excuse me, I won't do so any more, it was a rich prince 
 whose acquaintance he had made. Then he went to the 
 university. It was there I knew him, and very intimately, 
 too. Of our life then I will tell you at some other time. 
 It is of no importance now. Then he travelled." 
 
 Leschnieff kept walking up and down the room ; Alex- 
 andra following him with her eyes. 
 
 " Once gone," he continued, " Roudine seldom wrote to 
 his mother. He only went to see her once, and then for 
 but two days. It was among strangers that the poor 
 woman died, but to the last she kept her eyes fastened on 
 
Dimitri Roudine. loi 
 
 his portrait. When I lived in T I used to go to see 
 
 her. She was a kind old lady, and very hospitable ; she 
 never failed to give me preserved cherries. , She was en- 
 tirely devoted to her son. The gentlemen of the Petcho- 
 rine * school will tell you that we are always inclined to 
 love most those who are least capable, of feeliug any love 
 for others ; but it seems to me -that &11 'mothers- love, their 
 children, especially when they are away from them. Some 
 time afterwards I met Roudine again, abroad. He was 
 living with one of our Russian ladies who had interested 
 herself in him ; she was a sort of blue-stocking, neither 
 younger nor handsomer than blue-stockings should be. 
 He wandered about for some time with her, and finally left 
 her no, excuse me, she grew tired of him. Then I lost 
 all trace of him. That is all." 
 
 Leschnieff stopped, passed his hand over his face, and 
 sat down in an arm-chair as if he were fatigued. 
 
 " But do you know, Michael Michaelovitch," said Alex- 
 andra Paulovna, "that you are very bad? T am really 
 
 i The name >f the hero of a noTel of Lennontoff. TR. 
 
IO2 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 beginning to think that you are no better thai Pigasoff 
 I am convinced that all you say is true, that you have not 
 added anything, and yet in what an unfavorable light you 
 have put everything ! His poor old mother, her devotion 
 to him, her lonely death, that lady .... what is the need 
 >f ail that? "Don't y'ouknow that one might paint the lives 
 of Vjrfeh tbe* 'be^t o^m'en in j such colors and that, too, you 
 will observe, without adding anything that every one 
 will be frightened ? It is a sort of backbiting.'* 
 
 Leschnieff arose and began to walk up and down the 
 room again. 
 
 " I certainly did not intend to deceive you," he said 
 finally. "I am no backbiter. To be sure," he added, 
 after a brief pause, " there is a certain amount of truth in 
 what you say. I have not treated Roudine too severely ; 
 but who knows ? he may have changed since then ; 
 perhaps I have not been fair towards him." 
 
 " Then promise me to renew your acquaintance with 
 him, to study him thoroughly, and then to give me. you! 
 final judgment of him." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 103 
 
 " Very well, if you wish it But why are you so 
 
 silent, Sergius Paulovitch ? " 
 
 Volinzoff started, and raised his head as if, he had been 
 suddenly awakened from sleep. 
 
 " What can I say ? I don't know him. Besides, I don't 
 feel very well to-day." 
 
 " You do look a little pale," said Alexandra Paulovna. 
 
 " I have a headache," said Volinzoff, as he left the room. 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna and Leschnieff gazed after him, 
 and their eyes met without their saying a word. What 
 was going on in Volinzoff's heart was a secret to neither 
 of them. 
 
vn. 
 
 MORE than two months had passed, during which time 
 Roudine had hardly been out of Dana's house. She could 
 not be without him. It had become a fixed habit with 
 her to talk to Vm and listen to his conversation. Once 
 he wanted to go away on the pretext that he had spent 
 all his money, but she gave him five hundred rubles, which 
 did not prevent him from borrowing one hundred from 
 Volinzoff. Pigasoff visited Daria Michaelovna much less 
 often than before. Roudine's presence made the house 
 distasteful to him, and he was not the only one who had 
 this feeling. 
 
 " I don't like that conceited fellow," he used to say ; 
 " he's as affected in his way of speaking as the hero of a 
 Russian n^vel. He begins with an 'I,' and turn he stops 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 105 
 
 to admire it * I, well, I ! ' and he's so long-winded. If 
 any one sneezes, he begins to explain why he sneezed 
 instead of coughing. If he praises any one,, it's as if he 
 were raising him in the social scale. On the other hand, 
 if he begins to decry himself, he drags himself in the 
 mire, so that you would think he'd never dare show his 
 face again. Not at all ; it only puts him in better spirits, 
 as if he'd taken a glass of absinthe." 
 
 As for Pandalewski, he was rather afraid of Roudine, 
 and treated him with great obsequiousness. Volinzoff 
 found himself in a singular relation to the new-comer. 
 Roudine used to call him a knight, and was unceasing in 
 his praise, whether in his presence or not ; but his warm- 
 est compliments only filled Volinzoff with impatience and 
 vexation. " He is making fun of me," he used to say to 
 himself, with a sudden feeling of hatred. In spite of all 
 his efforts to control himself, Volinzoff was jealous of 
 him. And Roudine, although he was so loud in his 
 praises, and called him a knight while he borrowed money 
 from him, was hardly more drawn towards him. It would 
 
io6 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 not have been an easy matter to define the feelings of 
 these two men when they shook hands warmly with one 
 another and their eyes met. 
 
 Bassistoff continued to worship Roudine, and to listen 
 greedily to every one of his words. But Roudine paid 
 him very little attention. Once he spent the whole morn- 
 ing with him, talking on the most serious subjects, and 
 aroused in him the warmest enthusiasm ; after that he gave 
 him no more consideration. 
 
 It was merely idle words, when he expressed his longing 
 for young and ardent souls. Leschnieff had begun to visit 
 Daria Miehaelovna, but Roudine never entered into dis- 
 cussion with him, and seemed to avoid him. Leschnieff, 
 too, on his side, treated him with coolness, and never 
 expressed any final judgment about him, much to the 
 annoyance of Alexandra Paulovna. She bowed down 
 before Roudine, but she had confidence in Leschnieff. 
 All in Daria Michaelovna's house humored Roudine's 
 whims, and obeyed his slightest wishes. He settled what 
 was to be done every day. There could be no picnic 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 107 
 
 without his approbation. All these sudden, improvised 
 excursions were very little to his taste, and he took part in 
 them with very much the same air of indifference and 
 willingness to be pleased, that one shows who joins in the 
 sports of children. To compensate for that, he took an 
 interest in everything, discussed with Daria the manage- 
 ment of the estate, the education of the young, and all 
 sorts of business matters. He listened to all her plans 
 without any contempt for the details, and proposed 
 changes and improvements. 
 
 Daria was always charmed with what he said, but it 
 never had any practical result. In all matters connected 
 with the house she used to follow the advice of her over- 
 seer, a short, one-eyed old man, who was as crafty as he 
 was soft-mannered. " What is old is fat ; what is new is 
 thin," he used to say, smiling wisely and winking. 
 
 After Daria, there was no one with whom Roudine used 
 to talk so often nor so long as with Natalie. He lent her 
 books without any one knowing of it, confided to her his 
 plans, and read her the first pages of future articles and 
 
io8 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 books. Very often she did not fully understand them, but 
 Roudine did not seem to trouble himself much about that, 
 as long as he had some one to listen to him. His intimacy 
 with Natalie was not perfectly agreeable to Daria, but she 
 said to herself, " Let them chat together here in the 
 country ; he's fond of her as of any little girl. There's no 
 harm in it ; and he will teach her a great deal. But at St. 
 Petersburg I will arrange everything on a different footing." 
 Daria was mistaken. Roudine did not talk to Natalie 
 as one generally talks to a little girl. She too listened 
 keenly to everything he said, tried to catch his meaning, 
 submitted to his judgment all her thoughts and doubts ; 
 \J he was her instructor, her guide. At first it was only her 
 head that was in a turmoil, but a young head is never long 
 in a turmoil before the heart too is affected. How deli- 
 cious to Natalie were those moments, when, as often 
 happened, they were sitting on the garden-bench, in the 
 light, transparent shadow of an ash-tree, and Roudine 
 would read aloud Goethe's "Faust," Hoffman, Bettina's 
 Letters, or Novalis, continually stopping to explain to her 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 109 
 
 whatever she found obscure ! Like most Russian girls she 
 did not speak German well, but she understood it without 
 difficulty. As for Roudine, he was familiar with the whole 
 romantic and philosophical world of Germany, and he 
 carried Natalie with him into this ideal world. It was an / 
 unknown and marvellous world that was unfolded before ; 
 the eager gaze of the young girl. From the pages of 
 the book in Roudine's hand there streamed wonderful im- 
 ages, grand and touching, thoughts new and lofty, which 
 filled Natalie's soul as with strains of enchanted music, 
 while the holy fire of enthusiasm burned in her troubled 
 heart 
 
 " Tell me, Dimitri Nicolaitcli," she said one day as she. 
 was sitting over her embroidery by the window, " are you 
 going to St. Petersburg this winter ? " 
 
 " I don't know," answered Roudine, letting a book he 
 had been running over, fall into his lap ; " if I can get the 
 means I shall go." 
 
 He spoke languidly ; all the morning he had seemed 
 tired and dejected. 
 
HO Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " I think you will find the means." 
 
 Roudine shook his head. 
 
 " Do you think so ? " and he glanced at her from one 
 Bide, with a look full of meaning. . 
 
 Natalie was about to answer, but she stopped. 
 
 " See," began Roudine, pointing towards the window, 
 " do you see that apple-tree ? It is broken down by the 
 abundance of the fruit. A true picture of genius." 
 
 " It is broken because it had no support," answered 
 Natalie. 
 
 "I understand you, Natalie; but it is not so easy for 
 man to find this support." 
 
 " I should think the sympathy of others .... but 
 isolation at any rate " . . . . Natalie became embarrassed, 
 and blushed. " And what are you going to do in the 
 country this winter ? " she added quickly. 
 
 " What am I going to do ? I shall finish my long article 
 you know on tragedy in life and in art. I told you 
 my design day before yesterday ; I will send it to you." 
 
 " And shall you have it printed ? " 
 
Dimitri Roudine. Ill 
 
 "No." 
 
 " But why not ? For whom then do you do this work ? * 
 
 " What if it were for you ? " 
 
 Natalie lowered her eyes. 
 
 " It would be far above me, Dimitri Nicolaitch." 
 
 "May I ask the subject of the article?'* asked Bas- 
 sistoff modestly. He was sitting at a little distance from 
 them. 
 
 " On tragedy in life and in art," answered Roudine. 
 " And Mr. Bassistoff will read it too. Then I have not 
 yet quite made up my mind about the fundamental idea. 
 Hitherto I have not given enough attention to the tragic 
 import of love." 
 
 Love was a favorite and frequent subject of Roudine's 
 conversation. At first Miss Boncourt used to start and 
 prick up her ears at the mention of the word, like an old 
 war-horse at the sound of a trumpet ; but gradually she 
 had grown used to it, and now she merely pursed her lips 
 and took a pinch of snuff at intervals, whenever she heard 
 the word. 
 
H2 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " It seems to me," said Natalie modestly, " that the 
 tragedy of love is simply unrequited love." 
 
 " Not at all," answered Roudine, " that is rather the 
 comic side of love ; one must look at the question in an 
 entirely different way go into it more profoundly. 
 Love," he continued, " everything about it is a mystery ; 
 the way it appears, grows, vanishes. At one time it starts 
 forth suddenly, unmistakably, joyous as the day ; another 
 time it smoulders a long time, like fire beneath the ashes, 
 and bursts out in the soul when everything is destroyed ; 
 again it creeps into the heart like a serpent, to disappear 
 
 as soon Yes, yes, it is a great question. And who 
 
 is there who loves nowadays? Who knows how to 
 love ? " 
 
 Roudine grew thoughtful. 
 
 " Why have we not seen Sergius Paulovitch for so long 
 a time ? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 Natalie blushed deeply, and lowered her head over her 
 work. 
 
 " I don't know," she answered in a low voice. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 113 
 
 " What a noble, excellent man ! " said Roudine, rising. 
 " He is one of the best types of the Russian gentleman." 
 
 Miss Boncourt looked at him from one 'side with her 
 little French eyes. 
 
 Roudine began to walk up and down the room. 
 
 " Have you ever noticed," he asked, turning suddenly 
 upon his heels, " that the oak and the oak is a strong 
 tree only loses its old leaves when the new leaves begin 
 to burst forth ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Natalie, " I have noticed it." 
 
 " Tt is the same way with old love in a strong heart. It 
 is already dead, and yet it survives itself ; and only a new 
 love can drive it away." 
 
 Natalie did not answer. 
 
 " What does he mean ? " she thought. 
 
 Roudine stood for a moment without moving, shook his 
 hair, and went out. 
 
 Natalie went to her own room, where she remained for 
 
 i 
 
 some time sitting on her bed, buried in thought. For a 
 
 long time she thought over those last words of Roudine, 
 8 
 
H4 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 then suddenly she clasped her hands and burst into tears, 
 Why she wept God alone knows ! She herself did not 
 know why her tears burst forth so suddenly. She dried 
 them, but again they fell, like water from a long confined 
 spring. 
 
 On this very day, Alexandra had had a long talk with 
 Leschnieff about Roudine. At first Leschnieff tried to 
 maintain a stolid silence, but she was determined to get 
 some definite information from him. 
 
 " I see," she said, " you still dislike Roudine as much 
 as ever. Until to-day I have refrained from asking you ; 
 feut now, you must have made up your mind as to whether 
 there is any change in him, and I should like to know why 
 he does not please you." 
 
 " Very well," answered Leschnieff, with his usual calm- 
 ne?s, " if you are really so impatient ; but remember, you 
 must not get angry " 
 
 " Well, well ; begin, begin." 
 
 " And you must let me go on till I have finished/ 
 
 <{ Qf course ; do begin." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 115 
 
 " I will tell you," began Leschnieff, slowly sinking into 
 an easy-chair. " It is true that I told you I did not like 
 Roudine. He is an intelligent man." 
 
 " That can't be denied." 
 
 " He is a remarkably intelligent man, in spite of his 
 shallowness " 
 
 " That is easily said." 
 
 " In spite of his shallowness," repeated Leschnieff. 
 " But that is not the point ; we all have more or less of 
 that. I don't reproach him for having a tyrannical nature, 
 for his idleness, nor because his knowledge is scrappy " 
 
 Alexandra clasped her hands. 
 
 " Roudine's knowledge scrappy 1 " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Scrappy," repeated Leschnieff in the same tone. " He 
 likes to live at others' expense, to be always playing a 
 part, to humbug people, in a word. All that is in the 
 nature of things. But a worse thing is, that he is as cold 
 as ice." 
 
 " He cold ! " interrupted Alexandra. 
 
 " Yes, cold as ice ; he knows it, and is always trying to 
 
n6 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 simulate passion. It is bad," continued Leschnieff, grad- 
 ually growing excited, " because the part he is playing is 
 very dangerous ; not for him, for he risks neither his for- 
 tune nor his life, but for others who risk their souls." 
 
 " Of whom are you talking ? I don't understand you," 
 said Alexandra Paulovna. 
 
 " I charge him with a lack of honesty. He is an intelli- 
 gent man, and must know the value of his words; and 
 yet he utters them as if they came from the bottom of his 
 heart. He is eloquent I don't deny that ; but he has not 
 the eloquence of a Russian. Besides, if one excuses fine 
 talking in a young man, is it not a shame for a man of 
 Roudine's age to take pleasure in the sound of his own 
 voice ? It is shameful to be playing such a comedy." 
 
 " It seems to me, Michael Michaelovitch, that for those 
 who are listening to him it makes very little difference 
 whether he is playing a part or not." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Alexandra Paulovna, there is a 
 very great difference. One person will utter a word and I 
 am thrilled by it ; some one else will say the same thing or 
 
Dimitri Rotidine. 117 
 
 Bometliing even more eloquent, and I don't even prick up 
 my ears. What is the reason of that ? " 
 
 " You won't prick up your ears, but how 'about other 
 people ? " asked Alexandra. 
 
 " Possibly," answered Leschnieff, " although my ears 
 are long, you mean. But the fact is, that Roudine's 
 words are merely words, and they will never become deeds ; 
 but that does not prevent his words from troubling and 
 destroying the happiness of a young heart." 
 
 "But of whom are you speaking, Michael Michael- 
 ovitch ? " 
 
 Leschnieff hesitated. 
 
 " You want to know whom I mean ? Natalie Alexievna." 
 
 For a moment Alexandra was confused, but in a moment 
 she began to smile. 
 
 " Dear me 1 " she said, " what singular ideas you have 1 
 Natalie is a mere child, and then besides, isn't her mother 
 there ? " 
 
 " Daria is more than anything an egoist, who only lives 
 for herself. Besides, she has such perfect confidence in 
 
n8 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 the education she gives her children, that it would never 
 enter her head to be anxious about her daughter. How 
 could she ? One sign, a majestic glance, and all would set 
 itself straight again. That's what this woman thinks, who 
 imagines herself a Maecenas, a remarkable person, and 
 Heaven knows what else ; and who really is nothing but a 
 silly woman of the world. Natalie is nc child, you may 
 be sure ; she reflects more frequently and profoundly over 
 all sorts of matters than you and I together. And such a 
 sincere and warm-hearted character must run against this 
 actor, this frivolous fellow ! But that is the way of the 
 world." 
 
 " Frivolous ! Do you call him frivolous ? " 
 " Of course. But I ask you frankly, Alexandra Pau- 
 lovna, what sort of a position does he have at Daria Mich- 
 aelovna's? To be the idol, the oracle of the house, to 
 busy himself with all the petty household details, to listen 
 to all the miserable gossip and chatter is that worthy 
 of a man ? " 
 
 Alexandra looked at Leschnieff with amazement. 
 
Dimitri Rotidine. 119 
 
 "I hardly recognize you, Michael Michaelovitch," she 
 said. " Your face is on fire, you are excited. I am sure 
 that behind all this there is some secret which you are 
 keeping hidden." 
 
 " Exactly. I ought to have expected such a suspicion. 
 Tell a woman anything honestly and without reserve, and 
 she will have no peace until she has cooked up some petty 
 and foreign motive that explains why you expressed your- 
 self in just that way and no other.'* 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna began to be annoyed. 
 
 " Bravo, Mr. Leschnieff 1 you treat women almost as 
 well as Mr. Pigasoff himself; still, with all respect, how- 
 ever keen your eyes may be, I find it hard to believe that 
 in so short a time you have been able to see through so 
 many things, and to get so complete a knowledge of peo- 
 ple. I think you are mistaken. According to you, Rou- 
 dine is a sort of Tartuffe ? " 
 
 " Not even as much as that. Tartuffe knew at least 
 what he wanted to do, while our friend, with all his intel- 
 ligence " 
 
I2O Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 Lesclmieff stopped. 
 
 " What were you going to say ? Finish your sentence, 
 you unjust, harsh man." 
 
 Leschnieff arose. 
 
 " Listen to me, Alexandra Paulovna," he began ; " it is 
 you who are unjust, not I. You are angry at my harsh 
 judgment of Roudine, but I have a right to judge him 
 harshly. Perhaps, too, I have acquired this right at rathei 
 a high price. I know him well ; I once lived with him a 
 long time. Y&H will remember I promised to tell you, 
 sometime, about our life at Moscow. Apparently, I must 
 do it now. But will you have the patience to hear me to 
 the end ? " 
 
 " Go on, go on I " 
 
 Leschnieff began to walk slowly up and down the room ; 
 from time to time he stopped and bowed his head. 
 " " Perhaps you know," he began, " that I was left an 
 orphan very young, and that at sixteen I knew no other 
 authority than my own. I lived with an aunt of mine at 
 Moscow, and did whatever I pleased. I was a tolerably 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 121 
 
 empty-headed, conceited young fellow, and I liked to make 
 myself heard. When I entered the university I acted like 
 a genuine student, and soon found myself implicated in a 
 very disagreeable affair. I won't describe it ; it is not 
 worth while. It is enough to say that I had to lie about it, 
 and in a very unpleasant way. The whole story came out, 
 and I was overwhelmed with shame. I lost my head and 
 cried like a child. This incident took place at the rooms 
 of one of my acquaintances, and in the presence of a great 
 number of my comrades. They all made fan of me, with 
 the exception of one, who, please observe, had been severer 
 than the others so long as I had been obstinate and had re- 
 fused to confess my lie. I don't know whether he had pity 
 on me, but he took my arm and led me away to his room." 
 
 " That was Roudine ? " asked Alexandra Paulo vna. 
 
 " No, it was not Roudine ; it Avas a man he is now 
 dead a rather remarkable man. His name was Pokorsky. 
 I can't describe him in a few words, and if I begin to talk 
 about him I shall not be able to speak of anything else. 
 He had a pure, lofty character, and an intellect such as I 
 
122 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 have not seen since. Pokorsky lived in a little, low room 
 in an old, wooden house. He was very poor, and supported 
 himself as well as he could by giving lessons. He could not 
 even afford to give his visitors a cup of tea of an evening, 
 and his only sofa was so worn out by long use that it looked 
 not unlike a boat. But in spite of the lack of comforts, he 
 always had a great many visitors. Every one liked him ; 
 he charmed every one. You can't imagine how pleasant it 
 was to visit him in his little room. It was then that I made 
 Roudine's acquaintance. He had already left his prince." 
 " What was there so remarkable about Pokorsky ? " 
 " How can I tell you ? Poetry and truth, they drew 
 every one to him. With his clear, broad mind he was as 
 amiable and amusing as a child. I can still hear his joyous 
 laugh, and besides, ' He glowed for what was good as quietly 
 and steadily as the lamp before the images of the saints,' 
 as a half-mad poet, one of our set, but a very good fellow, 
 said about him." 
 
 " And how did he talk ? " again asked Alexandra 
 Paulovna. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 . s f 
 " He talked well when the inspiration seized him, but 
 
 not surpassingly so. Even then Roudine was twenty times 
 as eloquent as he." 
 
 Leschnieff stopped and folded his arms, then he went 
 on. 
 
 " Pokorsky and Roudine were not at all alike. Roudine 
 had much more brilliancy and show, an easier flow of 
 words, and, if you wish it, more enthusiasm. He seemed 
 to have more talent than Pokorsky, but, in fact, in compar- 
 ison with him, he was a very poor fellow. Roudine would 
 talk admirably about the first idea that came into his head, 
 and he argued with wonderful brilliancy, but his ideas 
 never came from his own head ; he took them from every- 
 body, and particularly from Pokorsky. Judging from 
 appearances, Pokorsky was phlegmatic, unenergetic, even 
 weak. He was fond of women, he never refused a glass of 
 wine, but he would never have taken an insult from any 
 one. Roudine appeared full of fire, boldness, and life, but 
 at bottom he was cold and almost a coward, so long aa 
 his self-love was not touched ; if it were, he'd have gone 
 
124 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 through fire and water. He was always trying to rule 
 others ; he overcame them with his high-sounding phrases 
 about universal principles and ideas, and he really exer- 
 cised a great influence on very many of us. It is true, that 
 no one liked him ; I was perhaps the only one who had 
 drawn closely to him. His yoke was endured but all 
 bowed willingly before Pokorsky. Roudine never lost an 
 opportunity to discuss and argue with any one. He had 
 not read a great deal, yet much more than Pokorsky 
 and the rest of us, and besides, he had a methodical mind 
 and an excellent memory ; and all this never failed of 
 its influence on young men. They must have results, 
 conclusions, even if they be inaccurate. A thoroughly 
 conscientious man is of no weight in their eyes. Try to 
 tell young men that you cannot impart them perfect truth, 
 because you have not found it yourself they won't listen 
 to you. But it is just as hard to deceive them. It is 
 absolutely necessary in order to convince them, that you 
 should be half convinced yourself. Hence Roudine had 
 Buch influence on us all. I just told you he had not read a 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 125 
 
 great deal ; but he had some knowledge of philosophical 
 books, and a sort of mind which enabled him to get the 
 general meaning of what he read. He seized the main 
 idea of the subject, and then abandoned himself to its 
 clear and methodical development, which he would present 
 with great skill, inventing arguments as he went along. 
 To tell the truth, I ought to say that we were a set of very 
 young, half-educated boys. Philosophy, art, science, life 
 itself, were for us mere words, vague though attractive 
 ideas. We had no suspicion of there being any general 
 connection between these ideas, or any common universal 
 law ; nothing of the sort ever occurred to us, although we 
 were continually discussing these subjects and struggling 
 to get some light. When we were listening to Roudine it 
 seemed to us that for the first time we had found it, this 
 universal connection ; we thought that now the curtain was 
 going to rise before us. To be sure, he gave it to us all at 
 second hand but what difference did that make ? We 
 had a regular order in everything we knew ; all that 
 had been fragmentary, combined suddenly, took its place, 
 
126 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 and grew up before us like a vast edifice ; everywhere was 
 light ; from all sides streamed the breath of life. Nothing 
 remained incomprehensible or accidental. For us in all 
 creation there appeared only reasonable beauty and neces- 
 sity. To everything was imparted a meaning, both clear 
 and mysterious. Every separate phenomenon of life 
 seemed an accord in a vast concert, and we, filled with the 
 holy awe caused by a profound veneration, compared our- 
 selves to living receptacles of eternal truth. We thought 
 ourselves instruments designed for some great work. 
 Does it not seem ridiculous ? " 
 
 " Not at all," answered Alexandra slowly. " Why should 
 you think so ? I don't perfectly understand you, but it 
 doesn't seem ridiculous." 
 
 " Since that time," continued Leschnieff, " we have had 
 a chance to grow wiser ; all that must seem to us now like 
 foolishness. I repeat it, we owed a great deal then to Rou- 
 dine. Pokorsky was much his superior, without doubt ; at 
 times, too, he used to animate us with his fire and force, but 
 then again he felt averse to exertion and was silent. He 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 127 
 
 was a nervous, delicate man ; if he had unfolded his wings 
 where would they not have taken him ? Straight to the 
 deepest blue of the heavens. But in Roudine, this hand- 
 some, brilliant young man, there was a great deal that was 
 petty ; he liked to gossip ; he liked to have a hand in 
 everything ; to have his say and explain everything. His 
 unceasing activity never knew repose. I speak of him as I 
 knew him then. He has unfortunately not altered a bit. 
 There is no change in his opinions at thirty-five ! It is 
 not every one who can say that." /**- 
 
 " Sit down," said Alexandra Paulovna, " you need not 
 walk up and down the room as if you were a pendulum." 
 
 V 
 
 " I like it better," answered Leschnieff'. ' " No sooner - 
 had I become acquainted with Pokorsky and his friends, 
 than I felt myself born again. I grew calm, I asked 
 questions, I studied, I was happy, and I felt a sort of rev- 
 erence, as if I had entered into a sanctuary. In fact, when 
 I recall our meetings yes, there was something grand, 
 something really touching about them. Imagine about five 
 or six young men sitting together, only one candle lighting 
 
128 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 .: * 
 
 them, they drinking wretched tea and eating some stale 
 cake ; but look at our faces, listen to our talk ! In every one's 
 face there is enthusiasm, and our cheeks are aglow, our heart 
 is beating, we are talking of God, of truth, of the future, of 
 humanity, of poetry, at times a good deal of nonsense 
 and crudity, but what is the harm? Pokorsky is sitting 
 there with his legs under his chair, resting his pale cheek 
 on his hands, but how his eyes are sparkling ! Roudine is 
 in the middle of the room ; he talks admirably, like the 
 young Demosthenes on the sea-shore. Subotine, the long- 
 haired poet, from time to time ejaculates broken sentences, 
 as if he were dreaming. Scheller, the son of a German 
 clergyman, who was forty years old, and who, thanks to his 
 eternal unbroken silence, passes for a very profound 
 thinker, is now more solemnly silent than ever. The jolly 
 Schitow himself, the Aristophanes of the company, grows 
 still and only smiles ; two or three novices are listening in 
 a sort of ecstacy and the night passes with its flight un- 
 noticed. Then the gray dawn appears, and we separate 
 joyous, sober, for we never thought then of wine, with 
 
Dintitri Roudine. 129 
 
 a certain lassitude, but with contented hearts. I remember 
 it well, how all aglow with excitement I walked through 
 the deserted streets, and even gazed up at the stars with a 
 certain confidence, as if they had come nearer, and we could 
 understand them better. Ah 1 that was a happy time, and 
 I cannot believe it was wholly wasted. No, it was not 
 wholly lost, not even for those who have sunk into the 
 dreariest monotony of life. Occasionally I have met one 
 of our old companions. You would have thought he had 
 become a brute, but you only needed to pronounce Pokor- 
 sky's name, and every trace of noble feeling left within him 
 was aroused. It was like uncorking a flask of perfume which 
 one had found forgotten in some dark, obscure corner." ]f, 
 
 Leschnieff was silent ; his pale face was flushed. 
 
 " But why, when, did you quarrel with Roudine ? " asked 
 Alexandra Paulovna, looking at him intently. 
 
 " I did not quarrel with him ; I parted from him finally 
 when I had learned to know him in foreign parts. I might 
 have separated from him at Moscow, because even there he 
 treated me badly." 
 
130 Dimitri Roudine, 
 
 ' How so ? " 
 
 "I will tell you. I have always been how shall I 
 express myself? it does not match my appearance I 
 have always been very much inclined to fall in love." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "Yes, I. That is strange, is it not? But it is true, 
 nevertheless. Well, I was interested at that time in a very 
 charming young girl why do you look at me so ? I could 
 tell you something which would surprise you much more." 
 
 " What is it ? you make me curious." 
 
 " Simply this. During this time at Moscow, I used to 
 have a rendezvous at night with whom do you suppose ? 
 with a young linden-tree at the end of the garden. When 
 I embraced its slender trunk it seemed to me that I clasped 
 the universe ; my heart swelled within me and quivered as 
 if all nature had penetrated into it. Yes, that is what I 
 was. Do you imagine possibly that I didn't write verses 
 at that period? You would be very much mistaken. I 
 composed a whole play in imitation of Byrou'& ' Manfred.' 
 Among the characters was a ghost ; from his heart streamed 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 131 
 
 bkod, but not, of course, his own blood, but that of all hu 
 manity. Yes, but don't be astonished. I have changed * 
 great deal, have I not ? But I began to tell you my ro 
 niance. I made the acquaintance of a young woman " 
 
 " And you gave up your visits to the linden ? " asked 
 Alexandra Paulovna. 
 
 " I gave them up. That young woman was very good- 
 natured, which did not prevent her being very pretty. 
 Her eyes were bright and limpid, her voice as clear as a 
 bell." 
 
 "You give me a life-like description," said Alexandra 
 with a fine smile. 
 
 " You are a harsh critic," answered Leschnieff. " Well, 
 this girl used to live with her old father but I won't go 
 into tiresome details. I must repeat, however, that she was 
 really as kind a creature as you can imagine ; she was sure 
 to nil the cup to the brim, if I asked for only half a cup of 
 tea. Thr^e days after our first meeting, I was madly in 
 love with her, and at the end of a week I could not help 
 confiding the whole story to Roudine. Young lovers can 
 
132 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 never keep their feelings to themselves. At that time I 
 was very much under his influence, and this influence, I 
 must confess, was in many ways beneficial. He was the 
 first person who ever paid me any attention ; he gave me a 
 sort of polish. I was passionately devoted to Pokorsky, but 
 I felt a certain timidity before the purity of his soul. I was 
 more intimate with Roudine. When he heard about my 
 love, he became indescribably enthusiastic, he congratu- 
 lated me, fell on my neck, and even began to make long 
 speeches to me to show the importance of my new condi- 
 tion. I was all attention you know, too, how he talks. 
 His words made a very great impression on me. I sud- 
 denly conceived a very high opinion of myself, adopted a 
 very serious air, and gave up laughing. I remember I 
 even began to walk pompously, as if I were balancing a 
 vessel full of some precious liquid which I feared to 
 spill. I was very happy, and all the more so because I 
 met with no rebuffs. Roudine wanted to make the girl's 
 acquaintance ; perhaps I even insisted on introducing 
 him." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 133 
 
 " Ah ! I see what you have against him," interrupted 
 Alexandra Paulovna. "Roudine cut you out, and you 
 cannot forgive him for it. I would be willing to bet I've 
 hit it." 
 
 " And you would lose your bet, Alexandra Paulovna. 
 You are wrong. Roudine did not cut me out, nor did he 
 try to, and yet he ruined my happiness ; though now, look- 
 ing at it in cold blood, I feel very grateful to him. But 
 then it almost drove me out of my head. Roudine did not 
 mean to do me an ill turn on the contrary. But follow- 
 ing his wretched habit of dissecting every phenomenon of 
 his own life and that of others, and pinning them with 
 some phrase, as one pins butterflies in a case, he began to 
 explain to us the nature of our feelings, to define our rela- 
 tions to one another, our conduct, to oblige us to take ac- 
 count of our impressions and thoughts, and, passing from 
 praise to blame, he even went so far can you believe it ? 
 as to enter into correspondence with us. In a word, he 
 managed to throw us into perfect confusion. Then I could 
 hardly have married the girl, so much common sense at 
 
Tj4 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 any rate was left in me ; yet we might have passed a few 
 happy months like Paul and Virginia. But there cam 
 misunderstandings and complications of every sort. The 
 end of it all was, that one fine day Roudine imagined it was 
 his solemn duty, as friend, to inform the father of what was 
 going on, and he did." 
 
 " Is it possible ? " cried Alexandra Paulovna. 
 
 " Yes, and observe, it was with my consent. That is the 
 strangest part of it. I well remember the perfect chaos in 
 which I was plunged. Everything was turning and chang- 
 ing as in a magic-lantern ; black seemed white, and white 
 black ; falsehood truth, and whim duty. I blush to-day 
 when I think of it. Roudine wastfnot dismayed why 
 should he have been? he soared above these misun- 
 derstandings and complications like a swallow over a 
 lake." 
 
 "And so that is the way you parted from the girl?* 
 asked Alexandra Paulovna, naively bending her head a 
 trifle, and raising her eyebrows. 
 
 "I parted from her; it was a very bad, offensive^ 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 135 
 
 tactless, uselessly public parting; I wept, she wept, and 
 the deuce knows how it was. A gordian knot held us. ' I 
 ought to have cut it boldly, but that would have been pain- 
 ful. But then it all settled itself in the best possible way. 
 She has since married an excellent man, and is perfectly 
 happy." 
 
 " Now confess you have never been able to forgive Rou- 
 dine," said Alexandra. 
 
 " You are mistaken," answered Leschnieff. " I cried 
 like a child when he left the country. But to tell the truth, 
 the germ of my present opinion was already lying in my 
 mind. When I next met him I was older, and Roudine 
 appeared to me in his true colors/' 
 
 " How was it you found him out ? " 
 
 " That is what I've been telling you this last hour. But 
 enough about him. Perhaps it will all come out right 
 yet. I only wanted to convince you that if I judged him 
 harshly, it was because I knew him well. As for Natalie 
 Alexievna why waste one's words ? But consider yout 
 brother." 
 
136 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 "My brother, and why ? " 
 
 " Just observe him. Don't you notice anything ? " 
 
 Alexandra lowered her eyes. 
 
 " You are right," she said ; " my brother he's been 
 another man for some time ; but do you think " 
 
 " Hush ! I think I hear him coming," whispered Lesch- 
 nieff. " Believe me, Natalie is no child, although she 
 lacks experience. You will see she will surprise us all 
 yet." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 " Don't rely on her calm appearance. Don't you know 
 those are just the girls who drown themselves, who take 
 poison, and all that? Her passions are strong, and her 
 character too." 
 
 " Really, you are rising into lyric poetry. To such a 
 calm-blooded person as you, I probably seem like a vol- 
 cano." 
 
 " Oh no, you are no volcano," answered Leschnieff', smil- 
 ing ; " and as for character, thank Heaven, you haven't 
 any." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 137 
 
 " What new impertinence is that ? " 
 
 "Really, that impertinence is a very great compli- 
 ment." 
 
 Volinzoff entered the room casting suspicious glances at 
 his sister and Leschnieff. Within a few weeks he had grown 
 thin. Alexandra and Leschnieff tried to talk to him, but 
 he only answered their jests with a smile. He seemed like 
 a " melancholy hare," as Pigasoff said in speaking of him 
 one evening. Volinzoff felt that Natalie was slipping from 
 him, and it seemed to him that at the same time the earth 
 was falling away from beneath his feet. 
 
vm. 
 
 / THE next day was Sunday, and Natalie did not get up 
 
 till rather late. The previous evening she had been very 
 silent ; she had felt ashamed of her tears, and had slept 
 badly. She sat down half dressed at her little piano, occa- 
 sionally striking a few chords, but very softly, in order not 
 to awaken Miss Boncourt ; or again, resting her brow on 
 the cool keys, she gave herself up to reverie, not thinking 
 so much of Roudine himself as of certain words he had 
 uttered. Occasionally VolinzofPs image would occur to 
 her. She knew that he loved her, but she drove the 
 thought from her mind at once. She felt strangely agitated. 
 She dressed hastily, went down-stairs to bid her mother 
 good-morning, nd then availed herself of the opportunity 
 to stroll alone in the garden. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 139 
 
 It was a warm, clear, sunny day, although from time to 
 time brief showers fell from the low, misty clouds which 
 were floating slowly across the sky, without obscuring the 
 sun. Large, glistening drops on which the sun was shin- 
 ing would fall like diamonds with a pattering sound ; the 
 grass, which had just bent before the breeze, was quiet, as 
 if to breathe the dampness exhaled from the ground ; the 
 wet leaves rustled on the trees ; the birds went on singing 
 without interruption, and it was a pleasure to listen to their 
 joyous twitter through all the cool patter of the rain and 
 the soft murmur of the breeze as the shower passed over. 
 Little whirls of dust appeared in the road which seemed 
 spotted by the rain-drops. But the cloud is over, a light 
 wind has arisen, the grass is aglow with gold and emerald, 
 
 bowing again before the breeze The leaves are 
 
 joined together by the rain. It is lighter in the summer- 
 house A rich perfume arises everywhere. 
 
 The sky was nearly clear when Natalie went into the 
 garden. Everywhere was freshness and oalmness, that 
 gentle, happy calm which calls up in the heart of man 
 
140 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 a soft, mysterious, sympathetic languor, and vague de- 
 sires. 
 
 As Natalie was walking beneath a row of silver poplars 
 along the side of the lake, she suddenly saw Roudine 
 appear before her as if he had sprung up from beneath 
 the ground. She was confused. He fastened his eyes 
 upon her and said, 
 
 " You are alone ? " 
 
 "Yes, I am alone," answered Natalie; "I only came 
 
 out for a moment to enjoy the fresh air I must go 
 
 back." 
 
 " I will go with you." 
 
 And he walked along by her side. 
 
 " You seem out of spirits," he said after a short pause. 
 
 " I ? .... I was just going to say the same thing to you. 
 You are rather melancholy, it seems to me." 
 
 " It's very possible I am so sometimes. But it's 
 
 more pardonable in me than in you." 
 
 " Why so ? Do you think I have nothing to make me 
 sad?" 
 
Dimitri Rondine. 141 
 
 " At your age one ought to enjoy life." 
 
 Natalie walked on a few steps in silence. 
 
 " Dimitri Nicolaitch 1 " she began. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Do you remember .... the comparison you made/ yea- 
 terday .... it was .... about the oak ? " 
 
 " Yes, I remember it. But why this question ? " 
 
 Natalie glanced at him askance. 
 
 " Why did you .... what did you mean by that com- 
 parison ? " 
 
 Roudine bowed his head and gazed into the distance. 
 
 " Natalie Alexievna," he began, with his usual restrained 
 expression, so full of meaning, which always made his 
 hearers imagine that he was telling them only the tenth 
 part of what burdened his soul, " Natalie Alexievna, you 
 must have noticed that I speak very little about my past 
 life. There are certain chords which I never touch. My 
 heart .... who cares to know what it has undergone? 
 To make such things known I have always regarded as 
 frivolity. But with you I am sincere ; you inspire me with 
 
142 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 confidence .... I have no wish to conceal from you that 
 
 I too have loved and suffered like every one else 
 
 When and how ? it's not worth while to speak of that ; it 
 is enough to say that my heart has known great joys and 
 great sorrows." 
 
 Roudine was silent for an instant. 
 
 " What I said to you yesterday," he continued, " may 
 be applied to me in my present situation, up to a certain 
 point. But, again, there is no need of speaking of that. 
 This side of life has disappeared forever for me. It only 
 remains for me now to let myself be carried from one sta- 
 tion to another over the hot, dusty highway of life, in some 
 wretched carriage When I shall reach my destina- 
 tion .... whether I shall reach it at all Heaven alone 
 knows Let us rather talk about you." 
 
 "It is not possible, Dimitri Nicolaitch," interrupted 
 Natalie, " that you expect nothing more from life ! " 
 
 " Oh no ! I expect a great deal ; but not for myself. .... 
 I shall never give up my activity, my delight in working ; 
 but I have renounced all hope of enjoyment. My hopes, my 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 143 
 
 visions, have nothing in common with my own happiness. 
 Love " at this word he shrugged his shoulders " love is 
 not for me ; I am unworthy of it; a woman- who loves has 
 a right to claim that the man she has chosen should be 
 wholly hers ; but I can no longer give myself up wholly, and 
 then, to please is the privilege of youth, and I am too old. 
 How can I turn girls' heads ? May I only keep my own 
 on my shoulders ! " 
 
 " I understand," answered Natalie, " that any one who is 
 striving for a lofty aim should not think about himself; 
 but why should not a woman be capable of appreciating 
 such men ? It seems to me, on the contrary, that they 
 turn away very quickly from the egoist. According to 
 you, all young people are egoists ; they are thinking ojily 
 of themselves, even when they love. Believe me, a woman 
 not only has the power of understanding a sacrifice, she 
 also knows how to sacrifice herself." 
 
 Natalie's cheeks were slightly colored, and her eyes were 
 glistening. Before she had known Roudine, she never 
 could have uttered so long and passionate a speech. 
 
144 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 "You have more than once heard my opinions on the 
 province of women," answered Roudine, with an indulgent 
 smile. " You know I think that only Joan of Arc could 
 
 have saved France but that is not the question. 
 
 I wanted to speak about you. You stand on the threshold 
 
 of life It is pleasant to speak about your future, 
 
 and it may not be without profit Listen to me : I 
 
 am your friend, you know ; I take as keen an interest in 
 
 you, as if I were a relative Hence I hope you will 
 
 not consider my question impertinent. Tell me, has your 
 heart always been completely calm ? " 
 
 Natalie colored deeply, and made no answer. Roudine 
 stood still, and she also. 
 
 " Are you offended ? " he asked. 
 
 " No, but I did not in the least expect " . . . . 
 
 " Besides," he continued, "you don't need to answer me. 
 I know your secret." 
 
 Natalie glanced at him with an air of terror. 
 
 " Yes .... yes ; I know who it is that pleases you 
 and, I must say you could not make a better choice. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 145 
 
 He is an excellent man ; he will be able to appreciate you ; 
 life has not injured him his soul is simple he will 
 make you happy." 
 
 " Of whom are you speaking, Dimitri Nicolaitch ? " 
 
 " Don't you know ? Of Volinzoff, of course. What ! 
 Can I be wrong ? " 
 
 Natalie turned a little away from Roudine. She had 
 lost all self-command. 
 
 " Doesn't he love you ? But see, ^e is always looking 
 at you, he follows with his eyes every motion you make. 
 And then can love hide itself? And don't you like him ? 
 So far as I have been able to see, he is agreeable to your 
 mother Your choice " . . . . 
 
 " Dimitri Nicola'itch ! " interrupted Natalie, in her con- 
 fusion pointing at a neighboring bush, " really, it is painful 
 for me to talk on this subject, but I assure you you are 
 mistaken." 
 
 " I am mistaken 1 " repeated Roudine. " Oh, I do not 
 think so To be sure, it is only a short time since I 
 
 made your acquaintance, but I know you very well. What 
 10 
 
146 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 is the meaning of this change which I see in yon, see in 
 you very clearly ? Are you the same being I met here six 
 weeks ago? No, Natalie Alexievna, your heart is not 
 tranquil." 
 
 " That may be," answered Natalie, in a hardly audible 
 voice, " but still you are mistaken." 
 
 " How so ? " asked Roudine. 
 
 " Leave me, don't ask me " .... said Natalie, walking 
 rapidly towards the house. 
 
 She was alarmed at the feeling which had suddenly 
 awakened within her. 
 
 Roudine hastened after her and stopped her. 
 
 " Natalie Alexievna ! " he said, " our conversation can- 
 not end in this way ; it is of too much importance for me. 
 .... How am I to understand you ? " 
 
 " Leave me," repeated Natalie. 
 
 " Natalie, for the love of God ! " 
 
 Roudine's face expressed the keenest emotion. He had 
 grown pale. 
 
 " You understand everything, you ought to understand 
 
*,/, 
 
 Dimitri Roudine. * /* 147! 
 
 j 
 
 me," said Natalie, as she withdrew her hand and walked 
 
 ^^^ A y , < 
 
 away without looking around. ^ // \ 
 
 " Only one word," cried Roudine. She stopped, but did / 
 not turn round. 
 
 " You asked me what I meant by that comparison yes- 
 terday. Hear me. I do not wish to deceive you. I was 
 speaking of myself, of my past life, and of you." 
 
 "What? of me?" 
 
 " Yes, of you ; I repeat it ; I do not wish to deceive you. 
 .... Now you know of what feeling, of what new feel- 
 ing I was speaking ..... Before to-day I have never 
 ventured" .... 
 
 Natalie quickly covered her face with her hands and 
 ran towards the house. She was so agitated at the unex- 
 pected issue of her conversation that she did not notice 
 Volinzoff, past whom she had run. He stood motionless, 
 with his back against a tree. A quarter of an hour before, 
 he had arrived at Daria's, had met her in the parlor, 
 said a word or two, and then he had gone out to find 
 Natalie. 
 
148 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 Guided by the instinct peculiar to lovers, he had gon 
 straight to the garden, where he came upon Roudine and 
 Natalie at the very moment that she withdrew her hand 
 from his. All grew dark before his eyes. Gazing after 
 Natalie he left the tree, and advanced a few steps, without 
 knowing whither he was going. Roudine saw him, and 
 went up to him. They looked at one another steadily, 
 bowed, and separated in silence. 
 
 " This is not the end," they both thought. 
 
 Volinzoff walked on to the end of the garden. A feeling 
 of stolid despair had taken possession of him. A heavy load 
 lay on his heart, and then suddenly a hot wrath made the 
 blood boil in his veins. The rain began to fall again. 
 Roudine had gone to his room. Neither was he calm ; his 
 thoughts were all in a whirl. What man would not be 
 perturbed at the unexpected, confiding surrender of a pure, 
 noble soul ? 
 
 At table nothing went smoothly. Natalie was very pale ; 
 she could hardly sit up, and she did not raise her eye& 
 Volinzoff sat by her side, as usual, and forced himself to 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 149 
 
 speak to her every now and then. It happened that 
 Pigasoff was present, and he talked more than all the rest. 
 He undertook to prove, among other things, that it was 
 possible to classify men, like dogs, as long-eared men, and 
 short-eared men. " Men," he said, " have short ears, either 
 from their birth, or by their own fault. In both cases they 
 are to be pitied, for they never succeed in anything they 
 lack self-confidence. But the long-eared man is fortunate. 
 He may be a worse man or a weaker man than the short- 
 eared one, but he has confidence in himself; he has only to 
 put up his ears and all admire him. As for me/' he 
 added with a sigh, " I belong to the short-eared class, and 
 the worst of it is, I clipped my own ears." 
 
 " By all that," interrupted Roudine indifferently, " you 
 mean what La Rochefoucauld said a long time ago : 
 Have confidence in yourself, and others will believe in 
 rou.' I don't see the necessity of lugging in the ears." 
 
 " Let everybody " retorted Volinzoff curtly, with an 
 angry glance " let everybody express himself as he 
 pleases. We were talking of despotism In my opin- 
 
150 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 ion there's no more odious despotism than that of so-called 
 intelligent people. Away with them all 1 " 
 
 This outburst of Volinzoffs astonished every one ; no 
 one said a word. Roudine glanced at him, but unable to 
 meet his rival's eyes, he looked away with a forced smile 
 and said nothing. 
 
 " Oh, oh I so you too have short ears ! " said Pigasoff to 
 himself. Natalie trembled from fear. Daria Michaelovna 
 gazed for a long time with astonishment at Volinzoff, and 
 was the first one to resume talking. She began to tell 
 about a remarkable dog that belonged to her friend, the 
 minister, N. N. 
 
 Volinzoif went off soon after dinner. In taking leave 
 of Natalie he could not help saying, 
 
 " Why are you so confused, as if you had committed some 
 crime ? You cannot be conscious of any wrong to any one." 
 
 Natalie had not understood him, and merely followed him 
 with her eyes. Roudine went up to her before tea, and 
 leaning over the table as if he were reading a newspaper, 
 he whispered to her : 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 151 
 
 " It is all like a dream, is it not ? I must see you alone 
 .... if only for an instant." He turned towards Miss 
 Boncourt. " Here is the paper you were lookiug for ; " then 
 he turned again to Natalie and added, " Try to be near 
 the terrace at about ten o'clock, in the lilac arbor. I will 
 await you." 
 
 Pigasoff was the hero of the evening. Roudine had 
 abandoned the field. He made Daria Michaelovna laugh 
 a great deal ; in the first place he told her about one of his 
 neighbors who had grown so effeminate by being tied for 
 thirty years to his wife's apron-string, that one day, when 
 stepping over a puddle, he, Pigasoff, had seen him put his 
 hands behind him and lift up his coat-tails as women do their 
 skirts. After that he fell upon another man who had been 
 first a freemason, then a misanthrope, and at last was try- 
 ing to become a banker. 
 
 But Daria was especially amused when Pigasoff began 
 to talk about love, and to assure her that women had 
 sighed for him, and an ardent German woman had called 
 him " her delicious little Af ricanus." Daria laughed, yet 
 
152 Dimitri Ron dine. 
 
 Pigasoff was telling the truth ; he had really a right to boast 
 of his successes. He declared that there was nothing 
 easier than to make any woman you pleased fall in love 
 with you ; one only needed to tell her ten days in succession 
 that paradise was on her lips, bliss in her eyes, and that 
 other women were ugly creatures in comparison with her, 
 and on the eleventh day she would say to herself that para- 
 dise was on her lips, bliss in her eyes, and she would fall 
 in love with the man who had detected such charming 
 traits in her. In this world anything may happen ; per- 
 haps Pigasoff was right. Who knows ? 
 
 At half past nine Roudine was in the arbor. The stars 
 were just appearing in the pale, distant depths of the sky ; 
 the glow of the sunset still lingered in the west, on that 
 side the horizon was still clearly marked. The half-moon 
 gleamed like gold against the dark interlacing branches of 
 the birches. The other trees stood like vast giants ; the sky, 
 visible through the net-work of their leaves, glistened like 
 myriads of eyes, or else they melted together in a sombre 
 mass. Not a leaf was moving ; the long branches of lilac 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 153 
 
 and the acacias stretched forth into the fragrant air as if 
 they were listening to some unheard voice. The house 
 stood dark, the long, lit-up windows shone like red spots 
 against the dark background. The evening was calm and 
 silent ; it seemed as if a restrained, passionate sigh were 
 breathing mysteriously in the stillness. 
 
 Roudine stood with folded arms, listening with the 
 utmost eagerness. His heart was beating violently, and 
 he involuntarily held his breath. At last he thought 
 he heard light, hasty steps and Natalie entered the 
 arbor. 
 
 Roudine hastened towards her, and raised her hands. 
 They were cold as ice. 
 
 " Natalie Alexievna 1 " he said with emotion, " I wanted 
 
 to see you I could not wait till to-morrow. I must 
 
 tell you what I myself did not suspect, did not imagine 
 before this morning. I love you ! " 
 
 Natalie's hands trembled gently within his own. 
 
 " 1 love you ! " he repeated ; " I don't know how I could 
 have been blind so long .... that I could not have sus- 
 
154 Dimitri Roitdine. 
 
 pected for so long that I loved you .... and you ? Nat- 
 alie .... answer me and you ? " 
 
 Natalie could hardly breathe. 
 
 " You see I caine here," she said at last. 
 
 " Tell me, do you love me ? " 
 
 " I think .... yes " . . . . she whispered. 
 
 Roudine pressed her hands more warmly and tried to 
 draw her towards him. 
 
 " Leave me I am afraid I think some one is listen 
 
 ing to us For God's sake, be prudent. Volinzoff 
 
 suspects something." 
 
 " He may. You noticed I did not answer him to-day. 
 .... Ah, Natalie, how happy I am ! Now nothing can 
 separate us 1 " 
 
 Natalie raised her eyes till they met his. 
 
 " Leave me," she murmured, " it is time for me to go 
 back." 
 
 " One moment." 
 
 " No, leave, leave me " .... 
 
 " Are you afraid of me ? " 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 155 
 
 " No ; but I ought not to stay." 
 
 " Tell me again, just once " . . . 
 
 " You say you are happy ? " asked Natalie; 
 
 " Yes, I am the happiest man in the world. Can you 
 doubt it?" 
 
 Natalie had raised her head. Her pale face, so young, 
 so noble, so agitated, was fair to see in the dim light which 
 streamed from the pale sky into the mysterious gloom of 
 the arbor. 
 
 " Hear me, then," she said, " I will be your wife." ^r 
 
 Oh, heaven ! " cried Roudine. 
 
 But Natalie had already fled. Roudine stood a moment, 
 and then slowly left the arbor. The moon shone full upon 
 his face ; a smile was on his lips. 
 
 " I am happy," he murmured to himself. " Yes, I am 
 happy," he repeated, as if he were trying to convince him* 
 self of it. ^ 
 
 He straightened himself, tossed back his hair, and walked 
 on swinging his arms joyfully. 
 
 But meanwhile the branches in the lilac bower were 
 
156 Dimitri Rondine. 
 
 pushed apart, and Pandalewski appeared. He looked 
 around cautiously, shook his head, pressed his lips together 
 and said meaningly, " Oh ho ! so that's the way the matters 
 stand I I must tell Daria." And he disappeared. 
 
IX. 
 
 VOLINZOFF reached home so gloomy and dejectedj he 
 gave such short answers to his sister, and locked himself up 
 so speedily in his room, that she determined to send at once 
 a messenger after Leschnieff. In all embarrassing matters 
 she was accustomed to apply to him. Leschnieff sent back 
 word that he would come the next day. 
 
 On the following morning Volinzoff was not in better 
 spirits than the evening before. After breakfast he 
 thought of going out to superintend the work which was 
 going on, but he remained at home, stretched upon a sofa, 
 and, what was remarkable, holding a book in his hand. 
 Volinzoff took a very slight interest in literature; for 
 poetry especially he had great distaste. "As incom- 
 prehensible as a poem," he used to say, and he would 
 
158 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 confirm his remark by quoting these lines from Ai- 
 
 bulat : 
 
 " Even to the end of my sad days, 
 Neither experience nor reason 
 Shall tear from my hands 
 The bleeding forget-me-nots of life." 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna looked anxiously at her brother, 
 but she did not annoy him with questions. A carriage 
 drove up to the house. " Ah 1 thank Heaven," she thought, 
 " there is Leschnieff." The servant entered and announced 
 Roudine. 
 
 Volinzoff threw his book on the floor, and raised his 
 head. 
 
 " Who is it ? " he asked. 
 
 " Roudine Dimitri Nicolaitch," repeated the servant. 
 
 Volinzoff arose. 
 
 " Ask him in ; and you, sister, leave us alone," he added, 
 turning to Alexandra. 
 
 " But why ? " she objected. 
 
 " I have my reasons," he answered briefly ; " please go." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 159 
 
 Roudine entered. Volinzoff greeted him coldly, stand- 
 ing in the middle of the room, and not holding out his 
 hand. 
 
 " Confess that you did not expect to see me," said Rou- 
 dine, laying his hat on the window-seat. He was by no 
 means at ease, but he tried to conceal his embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 " I certainly did not expect to see you," answered Volin- 
 zoff. " After what happened yesterday, I expected rather 
 to see some one with a message from you." 
 
 <; I understand you," said Roudine, sitting down, " and 
 I am very grateful for your frankness. It is much better 
 so. I came myself to you, as to a man of honor " . . . . 
 
 " Can't we dispense with compliments ? " interrupted 
 Volinzoff. 
 
 " I want to explain to you why I have come." 
 
 " We are acquaintances ; why shouldn't you come ? Be- 
 sides, it is not the first time that you have honored me with 
 a call." 
 
 " I have come to you as one man of honor to another mar 
 
160 Dimitri Ron dine. 
 
 of honor," repeated Roudine. " I now wish to submit to 
 your judgment .... I have perfect confidence in you " . . . . 
 
 " Come, what is it you have to say ? " asked Volinzoff, 
 still standing in the same position, casting angry glances 
 at Roudine, and from time to time twirling his mustache. 
 
 " Excuse me .... I came to explain myself, but I can't 
 do it in a couple of words." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because it concerns a third person." 
 
 " A third person ! and whom ? " 
 
 " Sergius Paulitch, you understand me." 
 
 " Dimitri ISTicolaitch, I do not in the least understand 
 you." 
 
 " You want " . . . . 
 
 " I want you to speak without beating about the bush," 
 interrupted Volinzoff. 
 
 He was growing very angry. Roudine frowned. 
 
 " Very well .... we are alone I have to tell 
 
 you probably you have already guessed " ( Volinzofl 
 shrugged his shoulders impatiently) " J have tc tell you 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 161 
 
 that I love Natalie Alexievna, and that I have reason to 
 suppose that she loves me." 
 
 Volinzoff grew pale, and made no answer; ho turned 
 his face away, and walked towards the window. 
 
 " You understand, Sergius Paulitch," continued Roudine, 
 " that if I were not convinced " . . . . 
 
 " Yes, exactly," interrupted Volinzoff quickly, " I don't 
 doubt at all .... Well ! so much the better for you I 
 Only I can't help wondering what the devil induced you 
 to come to me with this bit of news. .... What busi- 
 ness is it of mine, whom you love or who loves you ? I 
 really can't understand " . . . . 
 
 Volinzoff continued to gaze out of the window. His 
 voice was hollow. 
 
 Roudine arose. 
 
 " Sergius Paulitch, I will tell you why I decided to call 
 on you in person, and why I did not think it right to con- 
 ceal our .... our mutual positions. I have much respect 
 for you that's why I came ; I did not want neither of 
 
 us wanted to play a part in your presence. I knew your 
 11 
 
1 62 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 feelings towards Natalie Believe me, I know my 
 
 own value ; I know how unworthy I am to replace you in 
 her heart, but since fate has decided in this way, is it not 
 better to act frankly and loyally ? Is it not better to avoid 
 misunderstandings and such scenes as took place at din- 
 ner yesterday ? Confess it yourself, Sergius Paulitch." 
 
 Volinzoff folded his arms as if he found it hard to con- 
 trol himself. 
 
 " Sergius Paulitch," continued Roudine, " I feel that I 
 have offended you .... but don't misunderstand me. 
 .... You must see that we had no other way than this 
 to express to you our esteem, to show that we are able to 
 appreciate the noble candor of your nature. With any one 
 else this frankness, this perfect frankness, would be out of 
 place ; but towards you it is our duty. It is a pleasure for 
 us to think that our secret is in your hands." .... 
 
 Volinzoff burst into a forced laugh. 
 
 " Many thanks for your confidence," he cried ; "but yau 
 will please observe that although I neither desired to know 
 vour secret nor to disclose mine to you, you treat it as your 
 
Dimitri Ron dine. 163 
 
 owp property. But allow me ; you speak in the name of 
 some one else. Am I to suppose that Natalie Alexievna 
 has any knowledge of your visit and its intention ? " 
 
 At these last words Roudine grew a little embarrassed. 
 
 " No ; I did not tell Natalie what I was going to do, but 
 I know that she shares my views." 
 
 " That is all very fine," answered Volinzoff, after a mo- 
 ment's pause, during which he beat with his fingers on the 
 window pane, "but I must say I should much prefer if 
 you had .... had a less favorable opinion of me. To 
 tell the truth, your good opinion is not worth a farthing. 
 Come, what do you want of me now ? " 
 
 " I want nothing .... or rather, I do want something. 
 I don't want you to consider me a sly, crafty man ; I want 
 
 you to know me I hope now that you will have no 
 
 doubt of my sincerity I hope, Sergius Paulitch, 
 
 that we may part as friends .... that you will offer me 
 your hand as heretofore." 
 
 And Roudine advanced towards Volinzoff. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," answered Volinzoff, turning round 
 
164 Dimitri Ron dine. 
 
 and retreating a step. " I am ready to put implicit faith 
 in your intentions ; all that is very fine, very grand ; but 
 we are plain people, we are unable to follow the flights of 
 
 such exalted spirits as your own What seems to 
 
 you sincere seems to us impudent What you con- 
 sider plain and clear, we consider confused and obscure. 
 .... You brag of things we keep secret ; how can we 
 understand one another ? Excuse me, I can neither count 
 you among my friends, nor offer you my hand Per- 
 haps my conduct is petty, but I'm a petty fellow." 
 
 Roudine took his hat. 
 
 " Sergius Paulitch, good-by ! " he said sadly. " My 
 expectations have been deceived. In fact, my visit was a 
 singular one, but I hoped that you " . . . . Volinzoff 
 
 made an impatient gesture " Excuse me, I'll not 
 
 speak of that. When I think of it, I see that you are 
 really right, that you could not act otherwise. Farewell, 
 and at least allow me once more to assure you of the sin- 
 cerity of my intentions I m convinced you will 
 
 respect our secret." .... 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 165 
 
 " That is too much ! " burst out Yolinzoff, trembling 
 with passion. "I did not thrust myself into your con- 
 fidence ; and hence you have no right to count upon my 
 silence." 
 
 Roudine was about to answer, but he merely opened his 
 arms, bowed, and left the room ; Volinzoff flung himself 
 on the sofa and turned his face to the wall. 
 
 " Can I come in ? " said Alexandra at the door. 
 
 Volinzoff did not answer at once, and passed his hand 
 quickly over his face. 
 
 " No, Sacha," he said with a somewhat broken voice ; 
 " wait a few moments." 
 
 " Michael Michaelovitch has come," she said ; " do you 
 want to see him ? " 
 
 " Yes," he answered ; " ask him to come in." 
 
 Leschnieff entered. 
 
 " Well, what ails you ? are you sick ? " he asked, sitting 
 down in a chair near the sofa. 
 
 Volinzoff raised himself slowly and rested his head upon 
 his arm. He gazed for a long time into his friend's face, 
 
1 66 Dimitri Rottdine. 
 
 and then he repeated to him word for word his whole con- 
 versation with Roudine. Never before had he made any 
 mention to Leschnieff of his feelings towards Natalie, 
 although he might have conjectured that they were no 
 secret to him. 
 
 " Do you know, you really astonish me ? " said Lesch- 
 nieff, when Yolinzoff had finished. " I was prepared for a 
 great many singular things on his part, but this is a little 
 too much But I recognize him in this too." 
 
 " Just consider," said Volinzoff, " it is nothing but a bit 
 of insolence. I came very near throwing him out of the 
 window. Does he want to boast before me, or is he afraid ? 
 And for what reason ? How can one call on a man " . . . . 
 
 Volinzoff buried his head in his hands, and was silent. 
 
 " No, my friend, you are wrong," answered Leschnieff, 
 quietly. " You won't believe me, but yet I am sure he did 
 
 it with a good intention. Yes, really Do you see, 
 
 it has a certain streak of nobility and frankness, and gives 
 him an opportunity to give free course to his eloquence. 
 He needs that ; without it he couldn't live Ah, his 
 
Dimitri Rotidine. i6y 
 
 tongue, his flow of words .... that's his enemy .... 
 but it has done him a good turn, too." 
 
 " You can't imagine with what a solemn air he came in 
 and began to repeat his speech ! " 
 
 " Oh, that's his way. If he buttons his coat, he does it 
 as if he were discharging a holy duty. I should like to 
 set him on a desert island and watch him from some 
 corner, doing as he pleased. And he presumes to talk 
 about simplicity ! " 
 
 " But tell me, for Heaven's sake, what is the meaning of 
 his conduct ? Is it philosophy ? " 
 
 " How can I say ? In one way you are right it is 
 philosophy ; in another it is not, by any means. It is not 
 fair to set every folly to the score of philosophy." 
 
 Volinzoff glanced at him. 
 
 " But if he was lying, what do you think ? " 
 
 " No, my friend, he was not lying. But enough about 
 him. We'll light our pipes, and ask Alexandra Paulovna 
 
 in When she's present, it's easier to talk and easier 
 
 to remain silent. She will give us some tea." 
 
1 68 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " Very well," answered Yolinzoff ; " Sacha, comi in." 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna entered. He took her hand and 
 raised it tenderly to his lips. 
 
 Roudine reached home in a very unquiet state of mind. 
 He reproached himself bitterly, and accused himself for his 
 unpardonable haste and childishness. There is much truth 
 in the saying thnt there is no load heavier than the feeling 
 of having committed an act of folly. 
 
 Roudine was eaten by remorse. 
 
 "It was the devil himself," he muttered between his 
 clenched teeth, " who gave me the idea of going to see the 
 man ! A good idea that was ! It only brought down his 
 insolence on my head ! " 
 
 Something unusual was taking place at Daria's house. 
 She herself did not appear all morning, and did not come 
 down-stairs to dinner. Pandalewski, the only person she 
 saw, declared she was suffering from a severe headache. 
 Roudine had scarcely seen Natalie, who remained in her 
 
 room with Miss Boncourt When she came into the 
 
 dining-room, she looked at him so sadly that his heart was 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 169 
 
 deeply pained. Her face had altered, as if some misfortune 
 had fallen on her since the previous evening. A vague 
 uneasiness, like a gloomy foreboding, began, to affect 
 Roudine. In order to distract himself he turned to Bassis- 
 toff. In talking with him for some time he found him an 
 ardent, enthusiastic, confident youth, full of hope and in- 
 experience. Towards evening Daria came into the parlor. 
 She was very amiable to Roudine, though a trifle reserved. 
 At times she would smile, then she would frown and utter 
 some cutting allusions. She was the thorough woman of 
 the world once more. For some days she had treated 
 Roudine with a certain coldness. 
 
 " Who can solve the riddle ? " he thought, as he looked 
 askance at her head, which was tossed back. 
 
 He did not have to wait long for a solution. Towards 
 midnight, as he was going through a dark passage way 
 to his room, suddenly some one slipped a note into his 
 hand. He looked around and saw a young girl running 
 away, whom he recognized as Natalie's maid. He went 
 into his room, dismissed his servant, opened the note, and 
 
170 Dimitri Rotidine. 
 
 read the following lines, which weie in Natalie's hand 
 writing : 
 
 " Come to-morrow morning at seven o'clock, no later, 
 to the lake Advioukine near the oak-grove. I can't set 
 any other hour. We shall meet for the last time, and 
 all is over- unless .... Come. A decision must be 
 made. 
 
 " P. S. If I don't come, we shall never meet again. In 
 that case I shall let you ktfow." 
 
 Roudine grew thoughtful ; he turned the note between 
 his fingers, placed it beneath his pillow, undressed, and 
 went to bed ; but he could not find the repose he sought. 
 He slept lightly, and tf as awake before five o'clock. 
 
FOR a long time there had existed only slight traces of 
 this lake of Advioukine, near which Natalie had asked 
 Roudine to meet her. Thirty years before, the dike had 
 broken and let the water escape. Only the uniformly level 
 bottom of the ravine, once covered with a thick slime, and 
 the remains of the dam, recalled the existence of a lake. 
 Formerly a mansion-house stood close by. Of the dense 
 grove of trees which had surrounded the house, now only 
 two enormous pines remained ; through their thinly-clad 
 branches the winds murmured unceasingly. 
 
 The story ran that a terrible crime had been committed 
 at the foot of these trees ; some even said that neither of 
 them would fall without killing some one. Formerly a 
 third had stood there, which had. been blown over by a 
 
172 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 gale, and in its fall had killed a little girl. All the neigh 
 
 i 
 borhood of the lake had the name of being haunted ; drear, 
 
 desolate, barren, and gloomy even at midday, it was made 
 only drearier and gloomier by the proximity of a grove of 
 long dead and withered oaks. Above the undergrowth 
 arose at rare intervals huge, gray trunks, like spectres. It 
 made one shudder to look at them ; they were like wicked 
 gray-beards who had met to devise some evil plan. A nar- 
 row, unused path led along the side of the ravine. No one 
 passed by that way unless compelled to ; hence Natalie had 
 purposely chosen this spot, which was about half a verst 
 distant from Daria Michaelovna's house. 
 
 The sun had long since risen when Roudine reached the 
 lake ; but the morning was not bright. Thick, gray clouds 
 covered the whole sky ; the wind was tossing them in every 
 direction. Roudine began to walk to and fro through the 
 thistles and nettles which covered the dike. He was by 
 no means calm. These mysterious meetings, these new 
 emotions, agitated him very much, especially since the note 
 he had received the evening before. He felt that the 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 1/3 
 
 crisis was approaching, and in his heart he was very much 
 disturbed, although no one would have imagined it who 
 might have seen him gazing around him, with his armr 
 firmly folded. It was not without truth that Pigasoff had 
 once said, speaking of Roudine, that he was like those Chi- 
 nese toys which always stood with the head uppermost. 
 But when a man is controlled by his head alone, it is hard 
 for him, however intelligent he may be, to analyze certain 1 
 feelings, and to understand thoroughly what is going on in ' 
 
 his heart Roudine, the intelligent, acute Roudine, 
 
 could not say with certainty whether or not he loved 
 Natalie, whether he was suffering, or whether he would 
 suffer if he should be obliged to part from her. "Why 
 then, without playing the part of a Lovelace for so 
 much justice must be done him had he allowed him- 
 self to turn this poor girl's head? Why did he await 
 her with a mysterious trembling ? To this there is 
 only one answer: those who are the most void of pas- 
 sion are the readiest to let themselves be carried away. 
 He was walking up and down upon the dike, whi.o 
 
174 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 Natalie was hastening across the fields, through the wet 
 grass, to meet him. 
 
 " Miss Natalie, you will wet your feet," cried Macha, her 
 maid, hardly able to keep up with her. 
 
 Natalie paid no attention, and ran without looking be- 
 hind her. 
 
 " Oh, if only nobody saw us ! " said Macha repeatedly. 
 " It's strange that no one heard us coming out of the house. 
 If Miss Boncourt doesn't wake up. Fortunately it's not very 
 
 far There he is waiting," she added, as she saw 
 
 Roudine's tall figure, standing picturesquely on the dike. 
 " But he ought not to stand there, where he can be seen. 
 .... He ought to go into the ravine." 
 
 Natalie stopped. 
 
 " Wait here by the pines, Macha," she said, advancing 
 towards the lake. 
 
 Roudine came forward to meet her, and stopped in amaze- 
 ment. He had never seen such an expression on her face. 
 Her eyebrows were drawn together, her lips were tightly 
 closed, her eyes had a severe, almost a harsh Jook. 
 
Dimitri Rondine. 175 
 
 " Dimitri Nicolaitch," she began, " we have no time to 
 lose. I have come for five minutes ; my mother knows 
 everything. Mr. Pandalewski was listening to us day 
 before yesterday, and he told her about our meeting. 
 He has always been mamma's spy. Yesterday she sent 
 for me." 
 
 1~" Heavens, that is terrible 1 " cried Roudine. " What 
 did she say ? " 
 
 " She was not angry, she did not scold me ; she only 
 blamed me for my thoughtlessness." 
 
 " Was that all ? " 
 
 " Yes ; then she told me she would rather I should be 
 dead than your wife." 
 
 " Did she really say that ? " 
 
 " Yes ;rand then she added that you did not care to 
 marry me, that you had paid me attention only from lack 
 of anything better to do, and that she had not expected 
 any such abuse of her confidence on your part ; and that, 
 besides, she was herself to blame for having allowed us to 
 be so much together She said she had had perfect 
 
176 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 confidence in my good sense, and that she was very much 
 astonished at my thoughtless conduct I don't remem- 
 ber everything she said." 
 
 Natalie uttered all this in a uniform, almost inaudible 
 voice. 
 
 " And you, Natalie, what did you say ? " asked Rou- 
 dine. 
 
 "What did I say ? " repeated Natalie; "but in the first 
 place, what do you mean to do ? " 
 
 " Great God," resumed Roudine, " that is cruel ! so soon ! 
 .... such an unexpected blow ! . . . . and your mother 
 is really angry ? " 
 
 " Yes .... yes, she won't hear of you." 
 
 " That is terrible ! There is then no hope ? " 
 
 None." 
 
 " Why am I so pitilessly pursued by misfortune ! That 
 Pandalewski is a wretch ! . . . . You ask me, Natalie, 
 what I mean to do ? My head is in a whirl .... I can't 
 collect my thoughts .... I can only feel my misfortunes 
 I am surprised that you can be so collected." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 177 
 
 Do you think I find it easy ? " answered Natalie. 
 Roudine began to walk up and down the dike. Natalie 
 kept her eyes fastened upon him. 
 
 ^i 
 
 " Didn't your mother ask you any questions ? " he asked 
 at last. 
 
 " She asked me if I loved you." 
 
 " Well .... and you answered ? " 
 
 Natalie was -silent for a moment "I told her the 
 
 truth." 
 
 Roudine seized her hand. 
 
 " Always, in everything, noble 'and great. Oh, a girl's 
 heart is like pure gold ! But is it possible that your mother 
 was so fixed in opposition to our marriage ? " 
 
 ** Yes, firmly.^ I have already told you, she is convinced 
 you have no intention of marrying me." 
 
 " She considers me, then, an impostor ! How do I de- 
 serve such a suspicion ? " 
 
 And Roudine covered his face with his hands. 
 
 " Dimitri Nicola'itch," said Natalie, " we are wasting our 
 
 time. Remember, I see you for the last time. I did not 
 12 
 
178 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 come here to weep, nor to complain you see I am not 
 weeping I came to get your advice." 
 
 " What advice can I give you, Natalie Alexievna ? " 
 
 " What advice ? You are a man ; I have been accus- 
 tomed to have confidence in you ; I shall believe in you to 
 the last. Tell me, what are your intentions ? " 
 
 " My intentions ! your mother will probably forbid me 
 the house." 
 
 " Possibly. She told me yesterday she must break off 
 
 her acquaintance with you But you don't answer 
 
 my question." 
 
 " What question ? " 
 
 " What do you think we should do now ? " 
 
 " What should we do ? " repeated Roudine ; " we must 
 submit." 
 
 " Submit ! " repeated Natalie, her lips turning white. 
 
 " Submit to our fate," continued Roudine. " What else 
 can we do ?^~ I know very well that resignation will be 
 bitter, that this blow is hard to bear ; but judge for your- 
 self, .Natalie, I am poor. . , , . I could work, it is true 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 179 
 
 but even if I were rich, could you endure this violent sepa- 
 ration from your family, the anger of your mother ? . . . . 
 No. Natalie, that is not to be thought of. .It is clear we 
 are not destined to live together, and that the happiness 
 of which I had dreamed is not foi* me." 
 
 Natalie suddenly covered her face with her hands, and 
 burst into tears. Roudine went towards her. 
 
 " Natalie, dear Natalie ! " he said with warmth, " do 
 not weep ; for God's sake, do not torture me ; calm 
 yourself." 
 
 Natalie raised her head. 
 
 " You tell me to calm myself," she began, and her eyes 
 glowed brightly beneath her tears. " I am not weeping 
 
 for the reason which you suppose That does not 
 
 pain me ; but it does pain me to find myself deceived in 
 
 you What! I come to seek advice, counsel from 
 
 you, and in what a moment ! and your first word is ' Sub- 
 mit ! ' Is that the way you put in practice your theories 
 of resignation, of sacrifice ? " 
 
 Her voice failed her. 
 
l8o Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " Remember, Natalie," began Roudine, embarrassed, " I 
 do not abandon my principles .... only " . . . . 
 
 " You asked me," she began with new force, " what an- 
 swer I gave my mother, when she said she would rather 
 see me dead than consent to my marriage with you. I told 
 her I would rather be dead than be the wife of any one else. 
 .... And you talk of submission ! She was right ; you 
 were attentive to me only from having nothing better to 
 do only to kill time " . . . . 
 
 " I swear to you, Natalie .... I swear to you " . . . . 
 repeated Roudine. 
 
 But she did not listen to him. 
 
 " Why didn't you warn me at the beginning ? Why did 
 you have to .... or why didn't you foresee the obstacles ? 
 I am ashamed to talk in this way .... but it's all over 
 now." 
 
 " You must calm yourself, Natalie," began Roudine 
 again ; " we must contrive some means " . . . . 
 
 " You have so often spoken of self-sacrifice," she inter- 
 rupted ; " but d3 you know that if you had said to me just 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 181 
 
 now, ' I love you, but I can't marry you ; I can't answer 
 for the future ; give me your hand and follow me,' do you 
 know I should have followed you, that I was ready for 
 everything ! But from words to deeds is farther than I 
 thought, and now you are afraid; as you were afraid of 
 Volinzoff the other day at dinner." 
 
 Roudine's face flushed crimson. Natalie's sudden ex- 
 citement had surprised him, but these last words 
 wounded to the quick his self-love. 
 
 " You are too excited now, Natalie," he began ; " you 
 cannot understand what cruel wrong you do me. I hope 
 that Some day you will do me justice ; you will understand 
 then what it costs me to renounce the happiness which, by 
 your own confession, would place no obligation upon me. 
 Your peace is dearer to me than all the world, and I should 
 be a wretch if I should decide to take advantage " . . . . 
 
 " Perhaps," murmured Natalie, " perhaps you are right. 
 I don't know what I'm saying. Up to this meeting I be- 
 lieved in you, I believed in every one of your words. . . . 
 Henceforth, I beg of you, weigh your words ; don't hurl 
 
1 82 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 them away so carelessly. When I said I loved you, I knew 
 what my words meant ; I was ready for everything 
 
 It only remains for me to thank you for the lesson you 
 
 have given me, and to bid you good-by." 
 
 " Stop, I beseech you, for God's sake, Natalie. I have 
 not deserved your contempt ; that I swear to you. Just 
 put yourself in my place. I am responsible for you and 
 for me. If I did not love beyond all measure, what could 
 have prevented me from proposing to run away with you 
 at once ? . . . . Sooner or later, your mother would have 
 forgiven us .... and then .... But before thinking of 
 my own happiness " . . . . 
 
 He was silent. Natalie's eyes were gazing on him stead- 
 ily He had to stop. 
 
 " You try to convince me that you are an honest man, 
 Dimitri Nicola'itch," she said. " I don't doubt it. You are 
 incapable of acting from calculation ; but do I need any 
 proof of that ? Was it for that I came here ? " 
 
 " I did not anticipate, Natalie 
 
 " Ah ! at last you have said it I You didn't anticipate 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 183 
 
 all this you didn't know me. But calm yourself ; you 
 don't love me, and I don't thrust myself upon anybody." 
 
 " I do love you ! " cried Roudine. 
 
 Natalie straightened herself. 
 
 " Possibly ; but how do you love me ? I recall all your 
 words, Dimitri Nicolaitch. Do you remember saying to 
 me one day that there was no love without perfect equality 
 between those who loved ? . . . . You are too lofty for 
 
 */ 
 
 me, we are not equals I am punished as I deserved. 
 
 Some worthier occupation awaits you. I shall not forget 
 this day Farewell ! " 
 
 " Natalie, you are going ? Is it possible that we part 
 thus ? " 
 
 He held out his hand. She stopped. His tone of en- 
 treaty seemed to weaken her resolution. 
 
 "No," she cried at last, "I feel something is shattered 
 
 within me I came here and spoke to you as in a 
 
 delirium ; I must compose myself. That cannot be ; you 
 have said it yourself; that shall not be. Heavens, on my 
 way here, I bade good-by in my thought to my family, to 
 
184 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 my past life, and then, whom did I find here ? A cow- 
 ard How did you know I could not bear to part 
 
 from my family ? * Your mother won't consent .... 
 it is terrible ! ' That is all the answer you had 1 Was it 
 
 you, was it really you, Roudine ? No, farewell Ah I 
 
 if you loved me, I should feel it at this moment No, 
 
 no ; good-by 1 " .... 
 
 She turned away rapidly and ran to Macha, who for 
 some time had been anxious, and making signs to bring 
 her away. 
 
 " It is you who are afraid, and not I," cried Roudine, as 
 he saw her run away. 
 
 But she paid no attention to him, and ran across the 
 fields to the house. 
 
 She reached her room safely ; but she had scarcely 
 * crossed the threshold when her strength abandoned her, 
 and she sank fainting into Macha's arms. 
 
 Roudine lingered some time at the dike. Suddenly he 
 braced himself and stepped slowly along the path which 
 he had taken an hour before. He was extremely ashamed 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 185 
 
 of himself .... and exceedingly irritated. " What a 
 girl she is ! " he thought, . . . . " and only eighteen years 
 
 old No, I didn't know her .... an extraordinary 
 
 girl. What a strong will 1 .... She is right ; she is 
 worthy of another love than that which I could feel for 
 
 her And did I feel it? " he asked himself. " Don't 
 
 I love her any more ? And must it all end thus ? How 
 piteous, how contemptible, I was in comparison with her ! " 
 
 The rolling of a carriage caused Roudine to raise his 
 head. It was Leschnieff coming in the opposite direction, 
 driving his customary trotter. Roudine bowed to him 
 silently ; then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he turned 
 to one side and walked rapidly towards Dana's house. 
 
 Leschnieff let him go on a short way, following him with 
 his eyes, and then, after a moment of thought, he turned 
 his horse and drove to Volinzoff's. 
 
 He found his friend asleep. He told the servant not to 
 awaken him, and went on the piazza to smoke a pipe be- 
 fore breakfast 
 
XI. 
 
 VOLINZOFF got up at ten o'clock. On hearing to hia 
 great surprise that Leschnieff was seated on the piazza, he 
 sent word for him to come in. 
 
 "What has happened?" he asked him. "You we/e 
 going home, I thought." 
 
 " True ; but I met Roudine. He was tramping alone 
 through the fields, with a most agitated expression on his 
 face. I thought it over for a moment and then came back." 
 
 " You came back because you met Roudine ? " 
 
 " That is to say to tell the truth I don't know my- 
 self why I came back ; probably because I thought of you. 
 I wanted to sit with you again. 1 shall have time enough 
 to go home." 
 
 Volinzoff smiled bitterly. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 187 
 
 " Yes, one can't think of Roudine any longer without 
 
 thinking of me Bring us some tea 1 " he cried to a 
 
 servant. 
 
 The friends sat down to breakfast. Leschnieff talked 
 about farming and of a new way of lining barns. 
 
 Suddenly Volinzoff sprang from his chair, hitting the 
 table so violently that all the cups and saucers rattled. 
 
 " Xo," he cried, " I can't stand this any longer. I shall 
 call this genius out ; either he will kill me, or I shall lodge 
 a bullet in his intellectual brow." 
 
 " What's the matter now ? " said Leschnieff coldly. 
 " What makes you cry out in that way ? You made me 
 drop my pipe What ails you ? " 
 
 " Why, I can't hear his name mentioned without getting 
 into a passion ; all my blood flies to my head." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, nonsense ! aren't you ashamed of your- 
 self? " answered Leschnieff, picking up his pipe. " Don't 
 think of him any more. Let him go " 
 
 " He has insulted me," continued Volinzoff, walking up 
 and down the room. " Yes, he has insulted me grossly. 
 
1 88 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 You must acknowledge it yourself. At first, I paid no 
 attention to it myself; I was too much surprised, and, in 
 fact, who could have expected it ? I am going to show 
 him I am not to be trifled with. Cursed philosopher ! I'll 
 shoot him like a partridge." 
 
 '* A good deal you'll get by that ! I won't speak of your 
 sister ; under the influence of such passion, how could you 
 think of her ? But with regard to another person, do you 
 expect to advance your interests much by shooting the 
 ' philosopher,' as you call him ? " 
 
 Volinzoff flung himself into a chair. 
 
 " Then I shall go away. I don't care where, only away 
 from here ! My heart is so heavy that I can find no peace 
 here." 
 
 " You want to go away ? . . . . That is another matter. 
 I agree with you there. And do you know what I pro- 
 pose ? Let us leave together ; let us go to the Caucasus 01 
 only to Little-Russia, and eat dumplings. That is a cap- 
 ital idea." 
 
 " Yes ; but what shall I do with ray sister ? " 
 
Dimitri Roudiiie. ' * 180 
 
 ^J > ' 4 
 
 ^ \ y . -4 
 
 "And why should not Alexandi# 'P^aulovriar <go with 
 us? Heavens, that would be delightful I- /I', will take ; 
 care of her. She shall want for nothing; if she cares 
 for it, I'll see that she has a serenade beneath her win- 
 dow every evening; I'll perfume the postilions with Co- 
 logne water; I'll line the road with flowers. As for us, 
 my brother, if will be as if we were born again ; we will 
 give ourselves wholly up to enjoyment, and we'll bring 
 such fat paunches back with us that love will have no 
 chance to touch us." 
 
 " You are always joking, Michael." 
 
 " I am not joking at all. That was a brilliant suggestion 
 of yours." 
 
 " Don't let us talk of it any more," cried Volinzoff ; " I 
 want to fight him." f 
 
 " Again ? You've lost your wits to-day." 
 
 A servant entered with a letter. 
 
 Who is it from ? " asked Leschnieff. 
 
 " From Roudine from Dimitri Nicola'itch Roudine. It 
 was brought by Madame Lassounski's servant." 
 
190 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " From Roudine ? " repeated Volinzoff. " For whom is 
 it?" 
 
 " For you." 
 
 " For me ! Hand it here." 
 
 Volinzoff seized the letter, tore it open and began to 
 read it. Leschnieff watched him closel/. A strange, 
 almost joyous surprise appeared on VolinzofE's face. He 
 let his arms drop by his side. 
 
 " What does he say ? " asked Leschnieff. 
 
 " Read it," said Yolinzoff faintly, handing him the 
 letter. 
 
 Leschnieff began to read it. This is what Roudine had 
 written : 
 
 " SIR, To-day I leave Daria Michaelovna's house, and 
 I leave never to return. This will probably surprise you, 
 especially after my visit of yesterday. I cannot explain to 
 you my motives for acting thus, but it seems to me that I 
 ought to give you notice of my departure. You do not 
 like me, and you consider me a worthless man. I have no 
 intention of defending myself. Time will do that. In my 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 191 
 
 opinion it is unworthy of a man, and at the same time use- 
 less for him to try to convince a prejudiced person of the 
 groundlessness of his prejudices. Whoever is willing to 
 understand me, will forgive me ; as for any one who is 
 neither willing nor able to understand me, his accusations 
 are to me a matter of indifference. I have been deceived 
 in you. In my eyes you will always be, as heretofore, a 
 noble, honorable man. My error was in supposing that 
 you could raise yourself above the circle in which you 
 have been brought up. I was mistaken. But of what 
 importance is that? It is neither the first nor the last 
 time in my experience. I repeat it, I am going away ; I 
 wish you all possible happiness. Confess that this is a 
 thoroughly disinterested wish. I cannot refrain from hop- 
 ing that you will be happy henceforth. Perhaps time will 
 alter your opinion of me. 
 
 " Whether we shall ever meet again, I do not know ; but 
 I still remain 
 
 " Your sincerely attached friend, D. ROUDINE. 
 
 " P. S. I will send you the two hundred rubles I owe 
 
1 92 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 you, as soon as I reach my home in the Government 
 of T . Please do not mention this letter to Daria. 
 
 " P. P. S. A last, and important request. Since I leave 
 at once, 1 trust that you will make no allusion to my call 
 on you, in the presence of Natalie." 
 
 "Well, what do you say to that?" asked Volinzoff, 
 when Leschnieff had finished the letter. 
 
 " What can one say ? " answered Leschnieff. " The 
 only thing one can do is to cry, ' Allah ! Allah 1 ' like a 
 Mussulman, and put one's finger in his mouth as a sign of 
 astonishment. He is going away very well. May his 
 path be smooth before him ! It's curious to notice how 
 duty alone induced him to write this letter, and it was 
 from a feeling of duty that he called upon you. .*. . . 
 These gentlemen are always finding some duty to per- 
 form, some debt to discharge at every step," continued 
 Leschnieff, pointing with a smile to the postscript of the 
 letter. 
 
 " What phrases he invents ! " cried Volinzoff. " He 
 has been deceived in me ; he expected to find me rise 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 193 
 
 superior to the circle in which I had been brought upu 
 .... Heavens! What stuff and nonsense 1 it's worse 
 than poetry I " 
 
 LeschniefF did not answer ; in his eyes alone was a smile 
 perceptible. 
 
 Volinzoff arose. 
 
 " I want to go to Daria Michaelovna's," he said, " and 
 see what it all means." 
 
 " Don't hurry, brother ; give him time to get off. Why 
 should you run across him again ? He's going, you know. 
 What more do you want ? You'd better go to bed and get 
 some sleep ; I am sure you spent the whole night turning 
 and tossing in bed from one side to the other. Now things 
 are looking better." .... 
 
 " What makes you think so ? " 
 
 " Oh, I think so. But go and get some sleep. I will go 
 and sit with your sister." 
 
 " I don t want to sleep. Why should I ? .... I would 
 rather go out to the fields," added Volinzo J, smoothing 
 
 his coat. 
 
 13 
 
194 Dimitri Rotidine. 
 
 " Very well, my friend, go out to the fields ! " 
 
 And Leschnieff went to the other half of the house, to 
 Alexandra Paulovna. He found her in her drawing-room. 
 She greeted him kindly ; she was always glad to see him, 
 but to-day her face bore a sad expression. She was dis- 
 turbed by Roudine's visit of the day before. 
 
 " Do you come from my brother ? " she asked Lesch- 
 nieff. " How is he to-day ? " 
 
 " He is very well ; he has gone out to the fields.' 
 
 Alexandra was silent. 
 
 " Tell me," she began,'examining carefully the border 
 of her handkerchief ; " don't you know why " . . . . 
 
 "Why Roudine came?" interrupted Leschnieff. "I 
 know why ; he came to bid good-by." 
 
 Alexandra raised her head. 
 
 What ! To bid good-by ! " 
 
 Yes ; haven't you heard ? He is going away from 
 Daria's." 
 
 "Going away?" 
 
 " Forever at least that's what he says." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 195 
 
 " But what are we to think of that after all? " .... 
 
 " Ah, that is another question. We can't understand it, 
 ,but that's the case. Something must have happened. 
 He has probably stretched the cord too far, and it's 
 broken." 
 
 " Michael ! " answered Alexandra. " I don't understand 
 you at all ; it seems to me you are making fun of me." 
 
 " I swear I am not I tell you he's going away, 
 
 and he sends his friends word of this by letter. Regarded 
 in a certain way, it is, if you choose, a fortunate thing ; 
 but his departure nevertheless prevents the carrying out 
 of one of the most remarkable undertakings, which your 
 brother and I were just discussing." 
 
 " What was this undertaking? " 
 
 " You shall hear. I proposed to your brother a journey 
 for the sake of distraction, and to take you along. I said 
 I should take it upon myself to care for you." 
 
 " That is delightful 1 " cried Alexandra. " I see what 
 sort of care you would take of me. You would let me 
 starve to death." 
 
196 Dimitri Roitdine. 
 
 " You say that, Alexandra Paulovna, because you don't 
 know me. You think I am a stock, a perfect stock, a sort 
 of wooden man ; but if you knew that I could melt like 
 sugar and pass whole days on my knees 1 " 
 
 " I must say I should like to see that." 
 
 Leschnieff arose suddenly. " Well, marry me, Alexan- 
 dra, and you will see it." 
 
 Alexandra blushed crimson. 
 
 " What did you say, Michael Michaelovitch ? " she said 
 with embarrassment. 
 
 " I said," answered Leschnieff, " what has for a long 
 time been on the tip of my tongue. I have now said it, and 
 you can act on it as you please. In order not to embar- 
 rass you, I will go away. Yes, I'm going .... if you 
 consent to be my wife .... if that is not disagreeable to 
 you, send some one after me. I'll understand." 
 
 Alexandra wanted to detain Leschnieff, but he went 
 quickly into the garden without his hat, and leaned on 
 a little gate, letting his eyes wander in the distant pros- 
 pect. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 197 
 
 " If you please, sir," said a maid-servant behind him, 
 " my mistress told me to ask you to come in." 
 
 Michael Michaelovitch turned around, took .hold of the 
 girl's head, much to her astonishment, and kissed her fore- 
 head ; then he entered the house. 
 
XII. 
 
 X Roudino reached home after meeting Leschnieff, 
 he locked himself up in his room and wrote two letters : 
 
 s 
 
 the first to Volinzoff, which the reader has already seen, 
 the other to Natalie. Over this second letter he worked 
 a long time ; a great deal of it he scratched out and altered 
 and when he had copied it on a sheet of his best letter-paper, 
 he folded it into as small a compass as possible, and put it 
 into his pocket. Having finished this task, he began to 
 walk up and down his room with a gloomy expression on 
 his face ; then he sat down in a chair near the window, 
 resting his chin upon his arm, while the rising tears quiv- 
 ered on his eyelids. Suddenly, and as if he had just 
 formed a final resolution, he arose, buttoned his coat up to 
 his neck, called his servant, and bade him ask Daria 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 199 
 
 Michaelovna whether she could see him. The servant 
 came back saying she was awaiting him. Roudine fol- 
 lowed him. Daria received her guest in hep boudoir, as 
 on the day of his first appearance, two months before. But 
 now with this difference, that she was not alone. Pan- v 
 dalewski, as modest, smug, and humble as ever, was with f 
 her. 
 
 Daria received Roudine graciously, and he, for his part, 
 greeted her with apparent composure ; but with the first 
 glance at both of the smiling faces, any man who knew 
 the world would have easily detected behind their polite '. 
 and friendly manner genuine constraint and coldness. 
 Roudine knew that Daria was offended at him, and she 
 suspected that he already knew how she felt. 
 
 Pandalewski's report had angered her; it had touched 
 her pride. Roudine, the poverty-stricken, humble-born, 
 unknown Roudine, had had the presumption to have a 
 secret interview with her daughter the daughter of Daria 
 Michaelovna Lassounski ! 
 
 ;< Even granting he's a clever man, a genius," she said, 
 
2OO Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " what difference does that make ? According to that, any 
 one might hope to become my son-in-law." 
 
 " For a lonoj time I could not believe my eyes," an- 
 swered Pandalewski. " I could not comprehend that he 
 did not understand either his position or yours." 
 
 Daria was very angry, and Natalie had to suffer 
 from it. 
 
 She asked Roudine to sit down. He did so at once, but 
 no longer like the Roudine of old times, when he was 
 almost the master of the house. He did not even sit down 
 like a mere acquaintance whom one is glad to see, but like 
 a stranger who is paying a call of ceremony. This was 
 merely the work of a moment, but no longer time is needed 
 to change water into ice. 
 
 " I am come, Daria Michaelovna," began Roudine, " to 
 thank you for your hospitality. I have just received im- 
 portant news from my estate, and I must leave to-day." 
 Daria looked at Roudine attentively. 
 
 " He has got the start of me ; he certainly suspects some- 
 thing," she thought, " and he wants to dispense with anj 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 201 
 
 embarrassing explanation. So much the better. Long live 
 the clever people 1 " 
 
 Indeed? " she said aloud. That is really very sad. 
 But if you must .... 1 hope to see you this winter at 
 Moscow. We shall be going back soon." 
 
 " I don't know when I shall be able to get to Moscow, 
 Daria Michaelovna ; but if I find the means, I shall con- 
 sider it my duty to call on you as soon as possible." 
 
 " Oh, ho, my friend 1 " said Pandalewski to himself, 
 " it's not very long since you spoke like lord and master, 
 and now you have to express yourself in this way." 
 
 " So the news you have received from your estate is not 
 perfectly satisfactory ? " he asked, with his usual affec- 
 tation. 
 
 " No," answered Roudine, dryly. 
 
 " A bad harvest perhaps ? " 
 
 "No . . . . something else Believe me, Daria 
 
 Michaelovna," continued Roudine, " I shall never forget 
 the time I have spent in your house." 
 
 " And for my part, Dimitri Nicolaitch, I shall always 
 
2O2 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 recall our acquaintance with pleasure When do 
 
 you leave ? " 
 
 " To-day, after dinner." 
 
 " So soon ? . . . . Well, I wish you a pleasant journey- 
 If your business does not detain you too long, perhaps we 
 may see you again here." 
 
 " That is hardly possible," answered Roudine, rising. 
 " Excuse me," he added, " I can't at once pay the amount 
 I owe you, but as soon as I have reached my estate " . . . . 
 
 " Don't let us speak of that, Dimitri Nicola'itch," Daria 
 
 broke in, " you would pain me But what time is 
 
 it ? " she asked. 
 
 Pandalewski drew from his waistcoat pocket a little 
 enamelled watch, and carefully bending his rosy cheek 
 over his white, stiff collar, he said, 
 
 " Thirty-three minutes past two." 
 
 "It is time for me to dress," said Daria. " Au revoir, 
 Dimitri Nicola'itch." 
 
 This whole conversation between Daria and Roudine 
 was peculiar. In the same way actors rehearse thei? 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 203 
 
 parts, and diplomats interchange their carefully prepared 
 phrases. 
 
 Roudine went out. He now knew from experience how 
 the worldly throw over people whom they can no longer 
 use, or rather, how they drop them, like old gloves, or 
 lottery-tickets that fail to win. 
 
 He packed up his things quickly and waited impatiently 
 for the moment of departure. All the people of the house 
 were much surprised when they heard of his sudden plan ; 
 even the servants looked at him coldly. The ingenuous 
 Bassistoff could not hide his grief. It was evident that 
 Natalie avoided Roudine. She even tried to keep out of 
 his sight ; but he succeeded in handing her his letter. At 
 table Daria Michaelovna again expressed her hope of see- 
 ing Roudine before she left for Moscow, but he made no 
 reply. Pandalewski talked more with him than did any 
 of the others, and Roudine more than once felt a longing 
 to fall on him and slap his rosy cheeks. Miss Boncourt 
 often glanced at Roudine with that very strange and crafty 
 expression which may be seen on the face of pointers. 
 
2O4 Dimitri Roudinc. 
 
 " Ila, ha ! " she seemed to say, " so that is the way they 
 treat you to-day." 
 
 At last six o'clock struck, and Roudine's carriage drove 
 up to the door. He bade a hasty adieu to every one. He 
 was very ill at ease. He had not expected to leave the 
 house in this fashion ; it seemed to him as if he were 
 turned out of it . ..." What has happened ? why need 
 I hurry so ? There must be an end to everything." Such 
 were the thoughts which kept running through his head as 
 with a forced smile he made his bow to them all. He cast 
 one last look at Natalie, and his heart was moved within 
 him. Her eyes were fastened upon him with a sad, 
 reproachful expression. 
 
 He ran quickly down-stairs and sprang into his carriage. 
 Bassistoff had offered to accompany him as far as the first 
 station, and took his seat by his side. 
 
 " Do you remember," began Roudine, as soon as the 
 carriage had rolled out of the court-yard into the broad 
 highway, bordered by pines, " do you remember what 
 Don Quixote said to his squire as he left the castle of the 
 
Dimitrl Roudine. 205 
 
 duchess ? * Liberty, friend Sancho, is one of the choicest 
 gifts that Heaven hath bestowed upon man. Happy is he 
 to whom Heaven hath given a morsel of bread without 
 laying him under an obligation to any but Heaven itself I ' 
 
 I now feel as Don Quixote felt then May God 
 
 grant, my dear Bassistoff, that you may never come to feel 
 in this way ! " 
 
 Bassistoff pressed Roudine's hand warmly, and his honest 
 heart beat strongly within his breast. Until they reached 
 the station Roudine talked about the dignity of men, of 
 the meaning of real freedom ; his words were warm, 
 noble, and true ; and when they were taking leave of one 
 another Bassistoff could not help falling on his neck and 
 sobbing. Roudine too shed a few tears, but not on 
 account of leaving Bassistoff. His tears were those of 
 wounded self-love. 
 
 Natalie had gone to her room to read Roudine*s 
 letter. 
 
 " Dear Natalie," he wrote, " I have decided to go away. 
 No other course was possible. I decided to go away before 
 
206 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 I was openly ordered off. My departure will put an end 
 to all misunderstandings, and no one will miss me. Why 
 hesitate, then? .... All that is true, you will think, 
 but why write to you ? 
 
 "I am taking leave of you, probably forever, and I 
 write because it is too bitter for me to think that I am 
 leaving behind me a worse reputation than I deserve. I 
 do not wish to justify myself, nor to accuse any one except 
 myself; I only want to explain my conduct as much as 
 
 possible The events of the last few days were so 
 
 unexpected, so sudden 
 
 " To-day's interview with you will always serve me as a 
 lesson. Yes, you are right ; I thought I knew you, but I 
 did not. In the course of my life I have met a great many 
 women and young girls, but in you I found for the first 
 time a really pure and honest soul. That was new to me, 
 and I did not appreciate you. From the first day of our 
 acquaintance I felt myself drawn towards you ; yoi ' must 
 have noticed it. I passed many hours with you, and I did 
 not get to know you ; nay, I did not even try to know 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 207 
 
 you .... and yet I imagined that I loved you. For this 
 error I am now punished. 
 
 " Before this I loved a woman and was loved in return. 
 .... My feeling for her was complex, like hers for me. 
 Could it be otherwise, since hers was not a simple nature ? 
 The truth had not then manifested itself to me, and the 
 
 day it appeared before me, I did not recognize it 
 
 Afterwards I recognized it, but it was too late The 
 
 past does not return Our separate lives might have 
 
 become one and they are separated forever. How can 
 I convince you that I could have loved you with true love 
 when I do not even know whether I am capable of such 
 love? 
 
 " Nature has been generous to me ; I know it, and I will 
 not assume airs of false modesty before you, especially now, 
 in this hour, which is one of the bitterest and most humil- 
 iating of my life Yes, nature has accorded me 
 
 much, but I shall die without making any proper use of my 
 gifts without leaving a trace of any good done in my life 
 here below. 
 
208 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " All my riches will have been wasted in vain ; I shall 
 never reap the fruit of my exertions. I lack .... I can- 
 not myself say exactly what it is I lack but it is probably 
 that which is indispensable for moving the heart of men 
 and winning that of a woman ; and to rule over the intel- 
 ligence alone is as uncertain as it is futile. My fate is a 
 strange one, it is almost ridiculous. I should like to give 
 myself up absolutely, without reserve, entirely, and yet I 
 cannot give myself up. I shall end by sacrificing myself 
 
 for some folly, in which I shall not believe Heavens 1 
 
 Thirty-five years old, and still preparing for action ! 
 
 " I have never before spoken so frankly to any one this 
 is my confession. 
 
 " But enough about myself ; I want to speak about you, 
 
 to give you some advice. That is all I am good for 
 
 You are still young ; but, however long you live, never fail 
 to follow the impulse of your heart ; never let yourself be 
 controlled by your own reason, nor by that of others. Be- 
 lieve me, the narrower and more monotonous the circle in 
 which our life moves, the better it is ; it is not for us to 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 209 
 
 seek new paths of existence, but to try to have all its 
 phases accomplished in the right time. * Happy he who 
 is young in the time of his youth I ' But I notice that this 
 advice is more suitable for me than for you. 
 
 " I confess, Natalie, my heart is heavy. I was never 
 mistaken with regard to the feeling which I inspired in 
 Daria Michaelovna ; but I still hoped that I had found a 
 
 brief refuge here Now I must go out again into the 
 
 world. 
 
 " What can replace for me your sweet voice, your pres- 
 ence, your attentive, intelligent face ? . . . . The fault 
 is mine ; but acknowledge that fate has seemed to be 
 jesting with us. Only a week ago I hardly suspected that 
 I loved you. The other evening in the garden I for the 
 first time heard from your lips .... but why recall 
 what you said then ? .... And now I am going away, 
 covered with shame, humiliated, after a cruel explanation, 
 
 without carrying the slightest hope And yet you 
 
 do not know how guilty I am towards you I am so 
 
 foolishly frank, so inclined to make a confidant of every 
 14 
 
2IO Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 one But why speak of that! J am going away 
 
 forever." 
 
 (Roudine began to tell her about his visit to Volinzoff, . 
 but after a few moments of reflection he scratched the 
 passage out and wrote the second postscript to the letter 
 to Volinzoff.) 
 
 "I only remain in the world in order to give myself up 
 to other occupations, to occupations more worthy of me, 
 as you said this morning with a cruel smile. Alas ! if I 
 could but give myself up to them, if I could but overcome 
 my indolence ! No, I shall all my life be the incomplete 
 
 being I now am At the first obstacle, I shall crumble 
 
 into dust. What has passed between us proves that. If I 
 had at least sacrificed my love to my future activity, to my 
 occupations ; but no, I only hesitated before the respon- 
 sibility I should have to assume, and the certainty that I 
 was unworthy of you. I do not deserve that you should 
 
 leave your sphere for me Besides, all that has 
 
 happened is doubtless for the best. This experience will 
 leave me probably purer and stronger than before. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 21 1 
 
 " I wish you every happiness. Farewell 1 Think of me 
 sometimes. I hope that you will hear of me yet. 
 
 " ROUDINE." 
 
 Natalie let Roudine's letter fall into her lap, and sat for 
 a long time motionless, staring at the floor. This letter 
 convinced her more clearly than all possible testimony, 
 how right she had been in her involuntary cry on leaving 
 him that morning, that he did not love her. But this fact 
 brought her no consolation. She sat without moving ; it 
 seemed to her as if dark, noiseless waves were closing over ,/ 
 her head and she were gliding, cold and numb, to the bot- 
 tom of an abyss. The first disappointment every one finds 
 hard to bear, but it is almost crushing to a candid soul, ^ 
 which is unfamiliar with exaggeration and frivolity, and 
 which is averse to deceiving itself. Natalie recalled her 
 childhood, and thought of the evening walks she used to 
 take. She always used to prefer going in the direction of 
 the glowing sunset, and she instinctively turned her eyes 
 away from the gloomy east. Now life stood dark before 
 her ; she had turned her back on the light 
 
212 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 Tears stood in Natalie's eyes. Tears are not always a 
 relief. They are refreshing when, long restrained, they at 
 last burst forth at first, burning and bitter, then more 
 abundant and readier. In this way the dull pang of grief 
 
 is assuaged But there are cold tears, which fall 
 
 one by one, as if pressed from the heart by some heavy 
 burden of sorrow. Such tears are unconsoling ; they bring 
 no relief. They are the tears of despair, and only he who 
 has shed them has been unhappy. On that day Natalie 
 learned to know them. 
 
 Two hours passed. Natalie calmed herself, arose, dried 
 her eyes, and lit her lamp ; then at the flame she set fire 
 to Roudine's letter. When it was wholly burned she 
 threw the ashes out of the window. Then she opened at 
 random a volume of Pouchkine's poems, and read the first 
 lines that met her eyes ; she often consulted the book in 
 this way. She came upon these words, 
 
 " Whoever has felt deeply 
 Is incessantly pursued by the phantom 
 Of days irrevocably passed ; 
 
Dimitri Roiidine. 213 
 
 For him life has lost its charm; 
 
 He is gnawed by remorse for the past." * 
 
 She remained standing a moment ; she glanced with a 
 cold smile at her image in the glass, bowed her head 
 slowly, and went into the parlor. 
 
 As soon as Daria saw her, she asked her to her boudoir 
 and made her sit down at her side. She caressed her 
 cheeks kindly, and gazed at her eyes attentively, almost 
 inquisitively. Daria was secretly perplexed. For the 
 first time in her life it occurred to her that she did not 
 understand her daughter's character. When she heard 
 from Pandalewski of her daughter's meeting with Roudine, 
 she was less angry than surprised that her sensible Natalie 
 should have consented to take such a step. But when she 
 summoned her and began to blame her, not like a woman 
 of society, but with a very strident voice and vulgar man- 
 ners, Natalie's firm answers and resolute air confused and 
 almost intimidated her. Roudine's sudden and not per- 
 fectly explicable departure removed a great load from her 
 heart ; but she had expected tears and hysterics . . . 
 
214 Dimitri Rotidine. 
 
 and Natalie's outward calm consequently led her into new 
 misconceptions. 
 
 " Well, my child," began Daria, " how do you feel to 
 day?" 
 
 Natalie looked at her mother. 
 
 " He is gone that gentleman. Do you know why he 
 left so suddenly ? " 
 
 " Mamma," answered Natalie calmly, " I give you my 
 word that if you won't speak of him, you shall never hear 
 me say a word about him." 
 
 " You see then how ill you treated me ? " 
 
 Natalie bowed her head, and repeated, 
 
 " You shall never hear me say a word about him." 
 
 " Very well," answered Daria, smiling, " I believe you. 
 But do you remember the other day, how .... Well, we 
 won't speak of that. That's all dead and buried and for- 
 gotten. Is it not ? Now I recognize you once more. I was 
 all in confusion. Well, kiss me, my dear, good child." . . . 
 
 Natalie raised Daria's hand to her lips, and Daria kissed 
 her daughter's bowed head. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 215 
 
 " Always listen to my advice, don't forget that you are 
 a Lassounski and my daughter, and," she added, " you 
 will be happy, Now you can go." 
 
 Natalie went out in silence. Daria looked at her and 
 thought, " She's just what I used to be she will let her- 
 self be carried away ; but she has less enthusiasm than I 
 had." And Daria buried herself in thoughts of the past 
 of a very distant past. Then she sent for Miss Bon- 
 court, and sat conferring with her for a long time. After 
 she was dismissed, she summoned Pandalewski. She wanted 
 to find out the real reason of Roudine's departure. It may 
 be readily understood that Pandalewski satisfied her com- 
 pletely. It was in his role. 
 
 The next day Volinzoff and his sister dined at Daria's. 
 She had always been very kind to them, but that day she 
 received them with exceptional warmth. Natalie was 
 very melancholy. Volinzoff treated her, however, with 
 such respect, he was so modest when he spoke to her, that 
 phe could not help being profoundly grateful to him. 
 
 The day was quiet and without incident ; but they all 
 
216 Dimitri Ron dine. 
 
 felt, when they separated, that they had fallen into the 
 old path, and that is a great deal. 
 
 Yes, the old life had begun for all, except Natalie. 
 When at last she was alone, she dragged herself to her 
 bed, and, worn out, buried her head in the pillow. 
 
 Life seemed to her so bitter, so hollow; she was so 
 ashamed of herself, of her love and her sufferings, that at 
 that moment she would probably have been willing to die. 
 .... Many sad days, many sleepless nights, many keen 
 sufferings awaited her : but she was young ; her life had 
 but just begun, and sooner or later, life with its duties 
 and distractions is sure to get the upper hand. Whatever 
 blow may fall upon a human being, he cannot help- 
 reader, forgive the brutality of the phrase he cannot 
 help eating on that day or the next, and that is the first 
 consolation. Natalie's sufferings were bitter ; she suffered 
 
 for the first time But neither the first sufferings 
 
 nor the first love can be repeated and for that we ought 
 to thank God. 
 
X11L 
 
 ABOUT two years have passed. It is the beginning of 
 May. Alexandra Paulovna, no longer Lipina, but Lesch- 
 nieff', is sitting on the balcony. It is more than a year 
 since she married Michael Michaelovitch. She is as 
 charming as ever, only she has become a little stouter. 
 The balcony is connected by a few steps with the garden, 
 in which a nurse is carrying in her arms a little pink- 
 cheeked baby, clad in a white dress and a white-fringed 
 cap. Alexandra is watching them attentively. The baby 
 is not crying, but gravely sucking its thumb and looking 
 about quietly. It shows itself already to be the son of 
 Michael Michaelovitch. 
 
 Our old acquaintance Pigasoff is sitting on the balcony 
 at Alexandra's side. Since we last met him he has grown 
 
2l8 Dimitri Rondine. 
 
 grayer and thinner. His shoulders are bent, and he lisps, 
 owing to the loss of a tooth. This lisp adds to the bitter- 
 ness of his remarks. His extreme irritability has not 
 diminished with age, but his wit is less cutting, and he 
 has become prone to repeat himself. Michael is not at 
 home ; they are awaiting his return before taking tea. The 
 sun has already set. As it disappeared it left behind a 
 long, light, gold-colored glow in the west, while in the east 
 are two lines of different hues, the lower somewhat blue, 
 the other, reddish violet. Light clouds are gathering 
 in the zenith. Everything seems to promise pleasant 
 weather. 
 
 Pigasoff suddenly began to laugh. 
 
 " What are you laughing at, Africanus ? " asked Alex- 
 andra Paulo vna. 
 
 " Oh, nothing ; it occurred to me .... yesterday I 
 heard a peasant say to his wife, who had begun to talk too 
 much, ' Don't creak so ! ' That word * creak ' pleased me. 
 And can a woman talk ? You know I always except the 
 present company. Our fathers were wiser than we. In 
 
Dimitri Roudine. ' v -*./2<iQ 
 
 their stories a young girl is always represented sitting i\t 
 a window, with a star on her forehead, and as dumb as a 
 fish. That's the way it ought to be. Judge for yourself. 
 Day before yesterday the wife of the marshal of the dis- 
 trict it came at me like a pistol-shot said to me that 
 she did not like my tendencies. My tendencies ! Would 
 it not be better, I ask you, for a beneficent interposition 
 of nature to deprive this lady and all her sisters of the use 
 of language ? " 
 
 " You are always the same, Africanus ; you are always 
 attacking us poor, helpless women. Really, I pity you for 
 this prejudice. It's a real misfortune." 
 
 " Misfortune ! What do you mean ? In the first place, 
 I think there are only three misfortunes in the world, 
 namely, living in a cold room in winter, wearing tight 
 shoes in summer, and sleeping in the same room with a 
 crying child which one can't whip. Besides, haven't I 
 become one of the most peaceful men in the world? I 
 have become a most moral man, an example for the whole 
 world ! My conduct is most upright." 
 
22O Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " Ah, indeed ; so you conduct yourself well 1 Why then 
 did Ellen Antovna come yesterday to complain of you ? " 
 
 " Oh, ho ! what did she say, if you please ? " 
 
 " She said that the whole morning the only answer you 
 had made to her questions was * Wh-at ? wh-at ? ' and that 
 with a whimpering voice." 
 
 Pigasoff began to laugh. 
 
 "You must confess that was a good idea, Alexandra 
 Paulovna .... what?" 
 
 " Oh, a capital idea 1 How can you be so impolite to a 
 woman ? " 
 
 " What ? Do you consider Ellen Antovna a woman ? " 
 
 " What do you consider her ? " 
 
 " A drum, a real drum, to be beaten with sticks." .... 
 
 " Oh, my friend," interrupted Alexandra Paulovna, 
 anxious to change the conversation, " it appears you are to 
 be congratulated." 
 
 "On what?" 
 
 " On the settling of your lawsuit. The Glinow meadows 
 are yours." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 221 
 
 " They are mine," answered Pigasoff, gloomily. 
 
 " You have been fighting for several years, and now you 
 don't seem pleased." 
 
 " I must say, Alexandra Paulovna," said Pigasoff, 
 slowly, " there is nothing more disagreeable in the world 
 than a piece of good fortune which comes too late. It can't 
 give you any pleasure, and it deprives you of the riglr, 
 which is so precious, of abusing your fate. Yes, I repeat 
 it, a tardy good fortune is a bitter and insulting jest." 
 
 Alexandra merely shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Nurse," she cried, " I think it's time to put Micha to 
 bed. Bring him here." 
 
 Alexandra busied herself with the boy, while Pigasoff 
 went off grumbling to the other end of the piazza. 
 
 Suddenly Michael Michaelovitch's droschke appeared at 
 the end of the carriage-way which skirted the garden. 
 Two enormous wateh-dogs, one gray, the other yellow, ran 
 before the horse ; he had recently bought them. They 
 were the best of friends, and were biting one another from 
 morning till night. An old terrier ran to the gate to 
 
222 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 meet them, and opened his mouth as if to baik, but he 
 only gaped and turned back, wagging his tail. 
 
 " Sacha, guess whom I have brought you," cried Lesch- 
 nieff, from afar. 
 
 Alexandra Paulovna did not at first recognize the per- 
 son who was sitting behind her husband. 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Bassistoff 1 " she said, at last. 
 
 " Himself," answered Leschnieff, " and he brings good 
 news ; you shall hear it in a moment ; " and he drove into 
 the court. 
 
 A few minutes after, he appeared on the balcony with 
 Bassistoff. 
 
 " Hurrah 1 " he cried as he embraced her, " Sergius is 
 going to be married/* 
 
 " To whom ? " 
 
 " To Natalie, of course Our friend here brought 
 
 the news from Moscow ; he has a letter to you Do 
 
 you hear, Micha ? " he continued, seizing Micha's handa 
 " Your uncle is going to be married. What composure 
 He only wirjks his eyes at the news." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 223 
 
 " He is sleepy," said the nurse. 
 
 " Yes," said Bassistoff', approaching Alexandra, " I have 
 just arrived to-day from Moscow. Daria sent me on busi- 
 ness, to arrange the accounts. Here is the letter." 
 
 Alexandra hastily opened her brother's letter. It was 
 only a few lines, written in the first outburst of joy. 
 Volinzoff told his sister that he had proposed to Natalie, 
 and that he had her consent and that of her mother. He 
 promised to write more at length by the next post, and, 
 meanwhile, he embraced and kissed them all in thought. 
 He evidently wrote in a whirl of excitement. 
 
 Tea was brought. Bassistoff was given a seat. They 
 plied him with questions. All, even including Pigasoff, 
 were rejoiced at the news the young man had brought. 
 
 " Tell me, please," said Leschnieff in the course of the 
 conversation, " we heard some rumors about a certain Mr. 
 Kartchagine ; was there any foundation for them ? " 
 
 This Kartchagine, of whom we have hitherto made no 
 mention, was a good-looking young man, a dandy, very 
 pompous and self-satisfied. He tried to give himself digni- 
 
224 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 fied airs, as if he were not a human being, but his own 
 statue erected by national subscription. 
 
 " There was some foundation," answered Bassistoff, 
 with a smile. " Daria Michaelovna was well disposed 
 towards him ; but Natalie would have nothing to do with 
 him." 
 
 "I know him," interrupted Pigasoff. "He's a perfect 
 booby, a thorough blockhead. Dear me 1 If everybody 
 was like him, one would have to be paid dear to consent to 
 live." 
 
 " I don't contradict you," answered Bassistoff, " although 
 he has a very high position in the world." 
 
 " Well, it's all the same to us," cried Alexandra Pau 
 lovna. " Don't let us talk about him ! Oh, how glad I 
 am for my brother 1 .... And Natalie is happy ? " 
 
 " Yes. She is as quiet as ever you know her but 
 she seems happy." 
 
 The evening passed with pleasant conversation. Supper 
 was brought. 
 
 " By the way," said Leschnieff to Bassistoff, pouring him 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 225 
 
 out some claret, "do you know what has become of 
 Roudine ? " 
 
 " Where he is just now, I don't know. Last winter he 
 was at Moscow for a short time, and then he went to Sim- 
 birsk with a family. He and I corresponded for a short 
 time. In his last letter he said he was going to leave 
 Simbirsk, without saying where he was going. Since 
 then I have not heard from him." 
 
 " He won't get lost," said Pigasoff. " He's preaching 
 somewhere or other. That gentleman will always have 
 two or three admirers who will listen to him open-mouthed, 
 and whose money he will borrow. Take my word, his end 
 will be that he'll die, 'either in prison or in exile in the 
 home of some old maid with false hair, who will consider 
 him one of the greatest geniuses in the world." 
 
 " You judge him very mercilessly," muttered Bassistoff, 
 evidently displeased. 
 
 " Mercilessly 1 not at all," answered Pigasoff, " but 
 justly. In my opinion he's nothing but a parasite. I had 
 
 forgotten to tell you," he continued, turning to Leschnieff, 
 15 
 
226 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 "that I met that Terlasoff with whom Roudine travelled 
 abroad. You can form no idea of all he told me about 
 him it's really too absurd 1 It's a singular fact that all 
 Roudine's friends and admirers in course of time become 
 his enemies." 
 
 " I beg you will not include me among such friends 1 " 
 cried Bassistoff, excitedly. 
 
 "You .... that's a different thing. I did not refer 
 to you." 
 
 " What did Terlasoff tell you ? " asked Alexandra. 
 
 " A number of stories. I can't remember them all ; but 
 this is one of the best. It seems that being incessantly 
 occupied with his development, he came to theconvictior, 
 by means of philosophy, that he ought to fall in love. So 
 he began to seek an object worthy of justifying such a 
 wonderful conclusion. At last fortune smiled upon him. 
 He made the acquaintance of a French woman, a lovely 
 dressmaker. Observe that this took place in Germany, 
 on the banks of the Rhine. He began by making her a 
 few visits, then he lent her some books, and began to talk 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 227 
 
 to her about nature and Hegel. Do you picture the 
 position of the unfortunate dressmaker? She took him 
 for an astronomer. His personal appearance pleased her, 
 as you may imagine ; besides, he was a foreigner a 
 Russian : how could her heart help being touched ? 
 After endless hesitation he agreed on a rendezvous, a very 
 poetical rendezvous, with her ; he proposed a sail on the 
 Rhine. The Frenchwoman consents; she puts on her 
 most becoming dress, and they set off. They sail for 
 about three hours. And what do you think he was doing 
 all the time ? He smoothed her hair, he gazed dreamily 
 at the sky, and repeated frequently that he felt towards 
 his mistress like a father. She reached home in a rage, 
 and afterwards told it all to Terlasoff. That's the sort of 
 
 man Roudine was ! " 
 
 / 
 And Pigasoff burst out laughing. 
 
 " You are an old cynic 1 " said Alexandra, in a tone of 
 vexation, " but I am sure that even those who most dislike 
 Roudine cai.not find anything dishonorable to say about 
 Uhn." 
 
228 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " Nothing dishonorable 1 And his way of always living 
 at other people's expense, and his borrowing .... I'd be 
 willing to bet he has borrowed money from you, Michael 
 Michaelovitch." 
 
 " Listen to me, Africanus Simeonovitch," began Lesch- 
 nieff, while his face assumed a serious expression ; " you 
 know, and my wife knows too, that lately I have had no 
 special fondness for Roudine : on the contrary, very often 
 I have judged him severely. In spite of that " (Leschnieff 
 filled his glass with champagne), " I propose this ; we 
 have just drunk the health of your brother, Alexandra, 
 and of Natalie ; well, now let us drink to the health of 
 Dimitri Roudine ! " 
 
 Alexandra and Pigasoff gazed at Leschnieff with 
 astonishment, but Bassistoff flushed with pleasure and 
 opened his eyes wide. 
 
 " I know him well," continued Leschnieff, " and I know 
 his faults only too well. They are so much the greater, 
 because Roudine is not a petty man." 
 
 " Roudine is a man of genius," interposed Bassistoff. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 229 
 
 " He may have genius," answered Leschnieff, " I won't 
 deny it ; but the trouble is, he has no character. I don't 
 want to speak of that, but rather of what is good and 
 unusual in him. He is full of enthusiasm, and you can 
 believe a phlegmatic man like me when I say that it is a 
 
 _most precious quality, especially in a time like the present. 
 We are all unendurably cold-blooded, indifferent, and apa- 
 thetic ; we are indolent and unenergetic ; hence we ought to 
 be grateful to any one who can arouse and animate us, even 
 for a moment, for we need a spur. You remember, Sacha, 
 that once when I was talking about Roudine I accused him 
 of coldness. I was both just and unjust. His coldness is 
 in his blood he's not to blame for it not in his head. 
 I was wrong in calling him an actor ; he is no swindle, no 
 cheat : he does not live on other people like a parasite, but 
 like a child Yes, he may die in loneliness and mis- 
 ery, but should we throw stones at him on that account ? 
 He will never accomplish anything, because he lacks energy 
 and a strong will, but who can say that he never has done, 
 
 ' or never will do, any good ? that his words have never SOWD 
 
230 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 good seed in some young heart, to which nature has not 
 denied the force to carry out what it has conceived ? I 
 have felt it all in myself. .... Sacha knows what Rou- 
 dine was to me when I was young. I remember that I 
 said that Roudine's words could have no influence on his 
 equals ; but I meant by that those men who, like me, have 
 reached an age when they are less susceptible, who have 
 had experience of life, and whose reason has become hard 
 to satisfy. There comes a time in life when a single false 
 note destroys the harmony of the most beautiful piece of 
 music, but fortunately the ear of the young is less delicate 
 and less surfeited. So long as the idea is noble, what does 
 it care for the tone ? Youth finds that in itself." 
 
 " Bravo, bravo ! " cried Bassistoff. " That's treating 
 him with justice ! As to Roudine's influence, I assure 
 you he not only has the power of moving you, but he 
 spurs you on, he prevents your tarrying by the way, he 
 turns you upside down, he kindles a fire of enthusiasm 
 within you 1 " 
 
 " You see ? " Lesclmieff continued, turning to Pigasoff 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 231 
 
 " What further proof do you need ? You ridicule philoso- 
 phy ; no words are too harsh for it. I value it very little, 
 and understand it perhaps less, but it is not from philoso- 
 phy that our greatest misfortunes proceed. Philosophical 
 hair-splitting and revery will never have much influence 
 over the Russian ; he has too much common sense. Still 
 we ought not to make use of philosophy as a pretext to 
 attack every honest aspiration after science and truth. 
 It is Roudine's misfortune that he does not understand 
 Russia, and certainly it is a great misfortune for him. Our 
 country can get along without each one of us, but none of 
 us can get along without our country. It is sad for him 
 who thinks he can, and doubly sad for him who really 
 does forget the manners and ideas of his country. Cos- 
 mopolitanism is nonsense, a zero, a less than zero ; outside 
 of nationality there is no art, no truth, no life, there is 
 nothing at all. Every ideal figure ought to represent a 1 
 type, at the risk of at once becoming insignificant and / 
 vulgar. But, I repeat it, it is not Roudine's fault, it is his 
 fate, his sa 1, bitter fate, and we cannot throw the re- 
 
232 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 sponsibility on him. It would carry us too far to try to 
 ascertain why men like Koudine are so common in Russia. 
 Let us rather be grateful for the good which there is in him. 
 This is better than to be unjust towards him, and we have 
 been unjust. It is not for us to punish him because he is 
 no better, and this punishment is not necessary ; he has 
 
 punished himself more severely than he deserves 
 
 God grant that misfortune may rid him of all his bad 
 qualities, and leave in him only what is noble ! I drink 
 the health of Roudine 1 I drink the health of the com- 
 panion of my best days ; I drink to youth, its hopes, its 
 aspirations, its blind confidence, its honesty, in a word, to 
 all which set our hearts a-beating when we were twenty I 
 We know nothing better in life, nor shall we ever. I 
 drink to it, that golden time ! I drink Roudine's health 1 " 
 
 They all touched glasses with Leschnieff. Bassistoff in 
 his enthusiasm nearly broke his glass, which he emptied 
 at one draught, while Alexandra pressed her husband'i 
 hand. 
 
 " I had no idea you were so eloquent, Mr. Leschnieff, " 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 233 
 
 murmured Pigasoff ; " that was worthy of Roudine. I 
 must confess I am really affected." 
 
 " I am not a bit eloquent," answered Leschnieff, some- 
 what piqued, " still, to move you is somewhat difficult, I 
 believe. But enough about Roudine ; let us talk of some- 
 thing else Is that .... what's his name ? . . . . 
 
 Pandalewski still living at Daria Michaelovna's ? " he 
 asked, turning to Bassistoff. 
 
 " Of course, he is still there. She has given him a very 
 good position." 
 
 Leschnieff smiled. 
 
 " One can safely bet that he will never fall into dis- 
 tress." 
 
 The supper ended. The guests separated. When 
 Alexandra was left alone with her husband, she gazed at 
 him affectionately. 
 
 " How good you were to-day, Michael," she said, gently 
 stroking his brow ; " how well, how nobly you spoke ! But 
 confess you defended Roudine with a little exaggeration, 
 just as you used to attack him too harshly." 
 
234 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " One doesn't strike a man who's down .... and be- 
 sides, I was then afraid he might turn your head," he 
 added, smiling. 
 
 " No," answered Alexandra frankly, " he always seemed 
 too learned for me ; I was afraid of him, and did not know 
 what I should say when he was present. But don't you 
 think Pigasoff attacked him too maliciously this even- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Pigasoff? " said Leschnieff. " That's just the reason 
 I defended him so warmly, because Pigasoff was there. 
 He presumes to call him a parasite ! In my opinion 
 Pigasoff's conduct is a hundred times worse. He has an 
 independence, he is always attacking everybody, yet in 
 spite of his pretended misanthropy he understands very 
 well how to fasten himself on rich and distinguished peo- 
 ple. Do you know thai this Pigasoff, who attacks his 
 equals so bitterly, and who is forever attacking philosophy 
 and women, do you know that when he was in the 
 government service he used to take bribes, and large ones 
 too?" 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 235 
 
 " Is it possible ? " cried Alexandra Paulovna. " 1 never 
 should have thought it .... Micha ! " she added after 
 a moment's silence, " I want to ask you something." 
 
 What is it ? " 
 
 " Do you think my brother will be happy with 
 Natalie ? " 
 
 " How can I say ? . . . . from all appearance, yes .... 
 she will have the upper hand we need make no secret 
 of that between ourselves she's cleverer than he ; but he 
 is an excellent fellow and loves her with all his heart. 
 What more would you want I We love one another and 
 are happy, are we not ? " 
 
 Alexandra smiled and pressed Michael's hand. 
 
 On that very day, while what we have just narrated was 
 taking place at the house of Alexandra, a wretched 
 kibitka, 1 covered with rushes and drawn by three 
 peasant horses, was creeping slowly along the high-road 
 of one of the remotest districts of Russia. A gray-haired 
 peasant, clad in a long peasant's coat, was driving, seated 
 
 l A sort of covered carriage. TR. 
 
236 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 on the front seat, with his feet resting on the shafts. He 
 did nothing but shake the reins and brandish his whip. 
 Inside the kibitka a tall man was sitting on a shabby 
 valise. He wore a cap ; his coat was old and covered with 
 dust. It was Roudine. He sat with his head cast down, 
 and his cap overhanging his eyes. The jolting of tho 
 carriage threw him from side to side ; but he seemed in- 
 sensible to these discomforts, as if he were half asleep. 
 " When shall we reach the next station ? " he asked of the 
 driver. 
 
 " Soon, very soon," answered the peasant, drawing the 
 reins more strongly, " when we've got to the top of that 
 
 hill, we have only two versts to go Come, get up 
 
 ... are you dreaming ? I'll teach you how to go to 
 sleep," he added, beating the off horse with his whip. 
 
 " You get over the ground very slowly, it seems to me,' 
 remarked Roudine ; " we've been crawling along all morn 
 ing without getting on. Can't you sing me a song ? " 
 
 " How can I help it ? You see the horses are half 
 itarved .... and then it's so hot. Why do you ask me 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 237 
 
 to sing ? I'm not a postilion Hi, there I " he cried 
 
 suddenly to a passer-by, who was wearing a sort of brown 
 coat, and worn-out shoes. " hi, there ! get out of the way 1 " 
 
 " You are a good driver ! " murmured the tramp, who 
 stopped. " Wretched Muscovite ! " he continued with an 
 insulting air as he started on. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " the driver cried, tugging at 
 the reins, " you cursed brute, where are you going ? " 
 
 At last the tired horses reached the station. Roudino 
 got out of the kibitka, paid the driver, who did not thank 
 him, but for a long time turned the money over in his hand 
 he had probably expected a more generous sum for him- 
 self while the traveller with his own hands carried his 
 valise into the waiting-room. 
 
 One of my acquaintances who has travelled a great deal 
 in Russia has told me that if the walls of the waiting-room 
 at the post-stations were decorated with pictures represent- 
 ing scenes from Pouchkine's " Prisoners in the Caucasus," 
 or Russian journals, the traveller might hope to get horses 
 without delay, but if the pictures represented the life of 
 
238 Dimitri Rotidine. 
 
 the celebrated gambler, Georges de Germany , the chancea 
 of leaving the place speedily were small. In such cases 
 the traveller has plenty of time to admire at his leisure the 
 powdered wig, the white waistcoat with broad facings, 
 and the extraordinarily tight and short trousers of the 
 gambler in his youth, or to study his face in delirium at 
 the moment when, an old man, living in a hut with a 
 sloping roof, he kills his own son by beating him on the 
 head with a chair. Roudine had entered a room which 
 was adorned with these pictures illustrating " Thirty Years, 
 or the Gambler's Life." Roudine's shouts soon brought 
 the sleepy keeper of the station to lam was one ever 
 seen who was not sleepy ? Without awaiting Roudine's 
 question, he said at once, slowly, that he had no horses. 
 
 " How can you tell me you have no horses without my 
 telling you in what direction I am going ? I came here 
 with a peasant's horses." 
 
 " We haven't a single horse/* continued the keeper, 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 "To sk." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 239 
 
 " There are no horses," he repeated, leaving the room. 
 
 Roudine stepped angrily to the window and threw his 
 cap on the table. In two years, without changing much, 
 he had grown older ; a few silver lines glistened in his 
 hair, and his eyes, though still handsome, seemed less 
 brilliant ; fine wrinkles, the marks of restless and bitter 
 thought, appeared around his lips, his eyes, and his temples. 
 His clothes were old and shabby, and no trace of linen was 
 to be seen. His best days were over, and, as the gar- 
 deners say, he had gone to seed. 
 
 Roudine began to read the scribblings on the walls .... 
 
 a favorite distraction of bored travellers Suddenly 
 
 the door creaked on its hinges and the station-master 
 entered. 
 
 " There are no horses for sk," he said, " and there 
 
 won't be any for a long time ; but there are some return- 
 ing to off." 
 
 " To off! " answered Roudine, "but I am not going 
 
 in that direction. I am going to Pensa. It seems to me 
 off lies towards Tamboff." 
 
240 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 "What difference does it make? You can go from 
 Tamboff, or, if you want to, you can return here from 
 off." 
 
 Roudine thought for a moment. 
 
 Well, I don't care," he said at last. " Have the horses 
 harnessed. It's all the same to me. I'll go to Tamboff." 
 
 The horses were soon ready. Roudine carried down 
 his valise, got into the kibitka, and sat down with droop- 
 ing head as before. There was helplessness and sad 
 
 resignation in this position And the three horses 
 
 fell into a gentle trot with a monotonous clatter along th 
 road. 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 AGAIN several years have passed. On a cold autumn 
 day a travelling carriage stopped before the entrance of 
 
 the principal hotel in the government of C . From it 
 
 descended a gentleman, puffing and stretching himself. He 
 was not old, but he had already attained that portliness 
 which is commonly called respectable. He walked rather 
 quickly up one flight of stairs and stopped at the entrance 
 of a broad corridor, and since he did not see any one, he 
 called aloud for a room. A door opened slowly, a tall ser- 
 vant sprang out and ran hastily along to show the stranger 
 his way. In the darkness he was only to be recognized 
 by the shininess of the well-worn elbows of his coat. 
 
 Having reached his room, the stranger took off his over- 
 coat and wraps, sat down on a sofa, placed his hands on 
 16 
 
242 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 his knees, looked about him as if he had just waked up t 
 and told the waiter to send his servant to him. The 
 waiter bowed and went out. This traveller was no other 
 than Leschnieff. He had been obliged to leave his estate 
 and come to C in order to enroll recruits. 
 
 LeschniefTs servant, a young, curly-haired, red-cheeked 
 lad, wearing felt boots and a long coat fastened around the 
 waist by a blue girdle, entered the room. 
 
 " Well, my boy, we've reached here at last," said Lesch- 
 nieff, " in spite of your fear that the tire would fall off the 
 wheels." 
 
 " Yes, yes," answered the young man, trying to smile 
 behind his turned-up coat-collar ; " but why the tire didn't 
 fall off, I " .... 
 
 " Isn't there any one here ? " some one in the corridor 
 cried. 
 
 Leschnieff started and listened. 
 
 " I say, somebody 1 " repeated the voice. 
 
 Leschnieff arose, went to the door, and opened it sud- 
 denly. 
 
Dimitri Roudinf. 243 
 
 Before him stood a tall man, very much bowed ; his hair 
 was almost perfectly white. He wore an old cotton-velvet 
 overcoat with brass buttons. Leschnieff recognized him 
 at once. 
 
 " Roudine ! " he said with emotion. 
 
 Roudine turned around. He could not distinguish 
 LeschniefTs face, who was standing with his back to the 
 light, and he looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 " Don't you remember me ? " asked Leschnieff. 
 
 " Michael Michaelovitch ! " cried Roudine, holding out 
 his hand, but he became embarrassed, and drew it back. 
 
 Leschnieff seized it with both hands. 
 
 " Come in here," he said, leading Roudine into his 
 room. " How you've changed ! " he added, after a 
 moment of silence, and involuntarily dropping his voice. 
 
 " So they tell me," answered Roudine, looking gloomily 
 around the room. " Time .... but you, you are exactly 
 the same. How is Alexandra .... I mean your wife ? " 
 
 " Thanks, very well. What chance brings you here ? " 
 
 " Me ? Oh, that's a long story. In fact it's the meresf 
 
244 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 chance that I am here. I am looking for a friend of mine, 
 But I am very glad indeed " . . . . 
 
 " Where shall you dine ? " 
 
 " I ? I don't know. In some inn. I must go on to-day." 
 
 "You must?" 
 
 Roudine smiled meaningly. 
 
 "Yes, I must. I have been sent away to live on my 
 own estate." 
 
 " Dine with me." 
 
 Roudine looked straight into LeschniefTs eyes for the 
 first time. 
 
 " You ask me to dine with you ? " he said. 
 
 " Yes, Roudine, in the old way, as old friends. Will 
 you? I did not expect to meet you, and God knows 
 whether we shall ever meet again. We can't part in this 
 way." 
 
 " Very well, I accept gladly." 
 
 Leschnieff pressed Roudine's hand, called the waiter, 
 ordered the dinner, and told him to put a bottle of cham 
 pagne on ice. 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 245 
 
 As if they did it by agreement, Leschnieff and Roudine 
 talked during the dinner of nothing but their student life. 
 They revived many memories, and talked of many friends, 
 living and dead. At first Roudine was very quiet, but 
 after he had drunk a few glasses of wine he warmed up. 
 At last the waiter removed the last plate; Lesclmieff 
 arose, bolted the door, and sat down again at the table, 
 opposite Roudine, resting his chin on both hands. 
 
 " Now then," he began, " you must tell me everything 
 that has happened to you since we last met." 
 
 Roudine threw a hasty glance at Leschnieff. 
 
 "My God," thought Leschnieff again, "how the poor 
 fellow is altered 1 " 
 
 It was not so much his features that had changed, as 
 his expression. Indeed, since the day we met him at the 
 station asking for horses to continue his journey, his fea- 
 tures had not perceptibly altered, although a slight exami- 
 nation would have detected the traces of the approach of 
 old age. The eyes had another look. His motions, at one 
 moment sluggish, at the next, inexplicably sudden, his 
 
246 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 drawling voice in a word, his whole appearance gave 
 evidence of a profound weariness, a secret sadness. This 
 deep gloom was very different from that half-affected 
 melancholy which he used to exhibit like many young 
 people, who are none the less puffed up with vanity and 
 self-confidence. 
 
 "It would be impossible," he answered, "to tell you 
 everything that has happened, and besides it would not 
 be worth while. I have had a great many troubles, and 
 it's not my body alone which has been through a great 
 deal ; it's my soul too. How many disenchantments I have 
 known. My God ! How many people I've known in- 
 timately ! . . . . Yes, how many ! " repeated Roudine, 
 noticing that Leschnieff was looking at him with unwonted 
 sympathy. " How often my own words have sickened me 
 not merely from my own lips, but when uttered by 
 those who shared my views I What transitions I have 
 known, from the impatience and sensitiveness of a chili ta 
 the stupid indifference of a horse which does not stir be- 
 neath his master's lash ! How often I have hoped in vain 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 247 
 
 and then hated in vain ! fought and humiliated myself ! 
 How often I've opened my wings like a falcon, only to 
 fall to the ground, to creep there, like a snail with a broken 
 shell ! Where have I not been ! what ways does my foot 
 not know I And there are some ways which are very 
 dirty ! " added Roudine, turning aside. 
 
 " You know," he continued .... 
 
 " One moment," interrupted Leschnieff. " Once we 
 said ' thou ' to one another ; art thou willing to do so again ? 
 Let us drink to the ' thou ' 1 " 
 
 Roudine started, straightened himself, and in his eyes 
 flashed a hasty flame which no words can describe. 
 
 " Let us drink to it, brother 1 Thanks, brother, let us 
 drink to it ! " 
 
 Leschnieff and Roudine emptied their glasses. 
 
 " Thou knowest," began Roudine again, accenting the 
 " thou," and smiling, " I carry at my heart a gnawing 
 worm which will give me no peace till my dying day. It 
 drives me to try to get influence over men and women 
 It first they are impressed by me, but afterwards " . . . . 
 
248 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 Roudine made a deprecating gesture with his hand. 
 
 " Since I left you .... thee, I have learned much, I 
 
 have seen much Many times I have begun a new 
 
 life, after I have set my hand to some new work and 
 you can see how far I've got." 
 
 " Thou hadst no perseverance," murmured Leschnietf, 
 as if he were speaking to himself. 
 
 " As thou sayest, I had not perseverance. I have never 
 been able to build up anything, and, brother, it is not easy 
 to build, when the ground is slipping away from under 
 one's feet. 1 will not tell thee all my adventures, or rather 
 all my discomfitures. I will only tell thee three or four 
 incidents of my life when fortune seemed about to favor 
 me, that is to say, when I began to hope for success, which 
 is not quite the same thing." .... 
 
 Roudine thrust back his white and now somewhat thin 
 ner hair with the same motion of the hand with which 
 he used to press back his thick, black locks. 
 
 " Well, listen," he began. " In Moscow I met a rather 
 eccentric man. He was very rich and owned large estates ; 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 249 
 
 he was not in the government service. His chief, his only 
 passion was love of science, of science in general. I can't 
 understand to this day how this passion took possession of 
 him. It fitted him as a saddle does a cow. He made 
 every exertion to keep himself on what is called an in- 
 tellectual plane, although he was hardly able to express 
 himself; he used to roll his eyes and bow his head when 
 anything was said in his presence. I have never met a 
 more meagrely endowed, a less intellectual nature than his. 
 He reminded me of those broad stretches in the govern^ 
 ment of Smolensk, where there is nothing but sand, only 
 here and there a tuft of grass which no animal can eat. 
 Nothing succeeded in his hands ; everything seemed to 
 turn against him. He had the mania of making easy 
 things hard. If it had depended on him, he would have 
 made every one walk on his head. He worked, read, 
 and wrote incessantly. He studied with a certain obsti- 
 nate persistency and unlimited patience. His ambition 
 was unnaturally great, and his character of iron. He lived 
 alone, and was thought to be very eccentric. I made his 
 
250 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 acquaintance and he liked me. I must say I soon read 
 him, but his zeal touched me. Then he had so large 
 a fortune, so much good, so much of real value might be 
 done by him .... I went to live with him, and later 
 accompanied him to his place in the country. My plans 
 were immense, my friend ; I dreamed of improvements, 
 innovations " . . . . 
 
 "As you did at the Lassounski's, do you remember ? " 
 interrupted Leschnieff, with a gentle smile. 
 
 "Not at all. There I knew my words were thrown 
 away, but here .... here was an entirely different field 
 
 open before me I collected books on farming 
 
 .... I confess I could not finish one of them .... 
 and then I set to work. At first it didn't go as I had 
 expected, then things took a better turn. My new friend 
 did not say a word ; he only looked on without interfer- 
 ing ; that is to say, up to a certain point he did not intei 
 fere ; he adopted my plans, carried them out, but obsti- 
 nately, rigidly, and with a secret mistrust he tried to put 
 in some ideas of his own w .thout my knowing it. He had 
 
Dimitri Rondine. 251 
 
 a very high opinion of the least of his ideas, and clung to 
 it obstinately, like a lady-bird on a blade of grass, appar- 
 ently stretching its wings to fly away, and then suddenly 
 
 falling down and creeping slowly up again Don't 
 
 be surprised at all these comparisons ; they all occurred to 
 me at that time. Such were my occupations for two years. 
 In spite of all my care, the result belied my expectations. 
 I began to grow tired, my friend bored me, and I weighed 
 on him like lead. His lack of confidence changed into 
 ill-concealed dislike ; an evil spirit took possession of us 
 both ; we couldn't talk together about anything ; quietly, 
 but incessantly, he tried to show me that he was not under 
 my influence ; my arrangements were either changed or 
 
 wholly set aside At last I saw I was merely an 
 
 intelligent parasite in his house, paying for his hospitality 
 with good words. I served the wealthy land-owner as an 
 aid in intellectual gymnastics. It was painful for me to 
 waste in vain my time and strength, still more painful to 
 see my hopes continually deceived. I knew very well how 
 much I should lose if I went away, but I could not control 
 
2$ 2 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 myself, and one day, after a brutal scene at which I had 
 been present, and which showed my friend in really too 
 unfavorable a light, I broke with him entirely and went 
 away, bidding good-by to my aristocratic pedant, that 
 singular mixture of Cossack savageness and German sensi- 
 tiveness" ... * 
 
 " That is to say, thou didst throw away thy daily 
 bread," cried Leschnieff, placing his hands on Roudine's 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Yes, and stood again in the world naked and unen- 
 cumbered. Fly now whither thou wilt Come, let 
 
 us drink ! " 
 
 " To thy health 1 " said Leschnieff, rising and embrac- 
 ing Roudine. " To thy health and the memory of Po- 
 korsky ! .... He too knew how to remain poor." 
 
 " That was adventure number one," said Roudine, after 
 a short pause. " Shall I go on ? " 
 
 " Yes, go on, please." 
 
 " I really don't feel like talking ; I am very tired, my 
 friend .... but if thou wishest it. After I'd roamed 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 253 
 
 about from place to place .... I might tell you, by the 
 way, how I became secretary of a high official, and how 
 that came to an end, but it would take too much time 
 after roaming about a long time, I determined to become 
 . . . , pray don't laugh .... to become a business man, 
 a practical man. A favorable opportunity presented itself ; 
 I met a certain .... perhaps thou hast heard of him ? . . . . 
 a certain Kurbeeff." .... 
 
 " I have never heard the name. But excuse me, Rou- 
 dine, how was it that with thy intelligence thou didst not 
 see it was not forgive the pun thy business to become 
 a business man ? " 
 
 " I know very well, my friend, that it was not in my 
 line ; but what else is ? . . . .If thou hadst only seen Kur- 
 beeff 1 Don't think he was an empty braggart, like so 
 many others 1 They used to say that I was eloquent, but 
 in comparison with him I could hardly stammer. He was 
 a remarkably widely-informed, well-read man ; he had a 
 really creative mind, a head for all sorts of manufacturing 
 and commercial affairs. The boldest, most surprising plans 
 
254 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 were always springing up in his mind. We met and re- 
 solved to devote ourselves to some undertaking for the 
 benefit of the public." .... 
 
 " I wonder what it was." 
 
 Roudine cast down his eyes. 
 
 " Thou wilt have to laugh 1 " 
 
 " Why ? No, I shan't laugh." 
 
 " We determined to make one of the livers in the 
 
 governmenL-Qf K navigable," said Roudine, with a 
 
 forced smile. 
 
 " Is that all ? So Kurbeeff was a capitalist ? " 
 
 " He was poorer than I," answered Roudine, still bow- 
 ing his white head. 
 
 Leschnieff burst out laughing, but stopped suddenly and 
 grasped Roudine's hand. 
 
 " Forgive me, brother, please," he said, " I did not ex- 
 pect that at all. Well, did your undertaking remain oil 
 paper ? " 
 
 " Not entirely. A beginning was made. We engaged 
 workmen .... and set to vork. We encountered all 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 255 
 
 sorts of obstacles. In the first place, there was a mill- 
 owner, who wouldn't understand us : then, we found the 
 water could not be directed without engines ; and how 
 were we to get money for the engines ? We slept in huts 
 for six months. Kurbeeff ate nothing but bread, and I fared 
 no better. Still, I don't complain, for the country there is 
 very beautiful. We made every effort to interest mer- 
 chants ; we sent out letters and circulars. The end of it 
 all was, that I spent my very last penny in the project." 
 
 " Well," said Leschnieff, I fancy it was not hard to get 
 to thy last penny." 
 
 " No, indeed. But I can assure thee it was not a bad 
 idea we had, and it might have brought us immense 
 profits." 
 
 What has become of this Kurbeeff ? " asked Lesch- 
 nieff. 
 
 " Of him ? He is now in Siberia, digging for gold. 
 $ut I'm sure he'll make his fortune some time or other." 
 
 " I hope so ; but it's just as sure that thou wilt always 
 remain poor." 
 
256 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " I ? what of that ? Besides, I know that in thy eyes 1 
 am a very worthless man." 
 
 " Thou ? Nonsense, brother. There was a time, it is 
 true, when I saw only the dark sides of thy character ; 
 but now, believe me, I begin to appreciate thee more justly. 
 Thou canst not make money .... but for that reason I 
 love thee." .... 
 
 Roudine smiled faintly. 
 
 Really ? " 
 
 " Yes, really. I respect thee more. Dost thou under- 
 stand me ? " 
 
 They both were silent. 
 
 " Well, shall I tell thee number three ? " 
 
 Be so kind." 
 
 " This is the third and last. But am I not boring you ? ' 
 
 " Go on, go on ! " 
 
 " Well, once in a leisure moment (I always had plenty 
 of leisure), an idea occurred to me. I said to myself, 'I 
 know enough, and I have high aims.' .... Thou wilt not 
 deny that I have always had lofty aims ? " 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 257 
 
 Far from it." 
 
 " All my other plans had failed I asked myself 
 
 why I should not become a teacher. At any rate, it would 
 be better than doing nothing at all." 
 
 Roudine stopped and sighed. 
 
 " Why live without doing anything ? Would it not be 
 better to try to communicate what I know to others ; per- 
 haps from me they may get something of profit for them- 
 selves. My talents are at least not mediocre. I have a 
 
 certain ease in speaking So I determined to devote 
 
 myself to this new occupation. I had great trouble in 
 getting a place ; I did not want to give private lessons, 
 and I could find no suitable place in the primary schools. 
 Finally, I got an opportunity as professor in the Gym- 
 nasium in this city." 
 
 " Professor of what ? * asked Leschnieff. 
 
 " Of Russian literature. I must say I never devoted my- 
 self so ardently to anything. The idea of influencing the 
 young men inspired me. I spent three weeks preparing 
 
 for my first lecture." 
 17 
 
258 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 " Is it with thee ? " interrupted Leschnieff. 
 
 " No, I have lost it, I don't know where. It had a tolera- 
 ble success and was applauded. I can still see the faces 
 of my hearers, those handsome young faces with an 
 expression of sincere attention, sympathy, yes, even of 
 surprise. I took my place in a sort of fever ; I read my 
 lecture : I thought it would fill an hour, but I finished it in 
 twenty minutes. The inspector a dry old man with 
 silver eye-glasses and a little wig would nod his head 
 approvingly every few minutes. When I had finished and 
 had come down from the platform, he said, * That was very 
 good, sir, but a little transcendental, a trifle vague ; there 
 was too little said about the subject 1 ' But the students 
 gazed at me with admiration. Their enthusiasm is the 
 great charm of youth. I took notes for the second and the 
 third lectures .... but after that I used to improvise." 
 
 " And with success ? " asked Leschnieff. 
 
 "With great success. People flocked to hear me. I 
 opened my whole soul to them. Among them there were 
 three, in fact four, remarkable young men ; the rest only 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 259 
 
 half understood me. Still, I must acknowledge that even 
 those who understood me, occasionally embarrassed me 
 with their questions. But I did not lose courage. All 
 liked me ; and I gave them good marks at their exami- 
 nations. But an intrigue was set on foot against me 
 
 No, it was not an intrigue ; to speak plainly, I was not in 
 the right place. I was disagreeable to my colleagues, just 
 as they were to me. To these students in the Gymnasium 
 I gave lectures such as one seldom hears at a university ; 
 and my hearers consequently derived but little profit from 
 them .... for I was not thoroughly familiar with the 
 facts. Besides, I was not satisfied with the pettiness of the 
 sphere in which I was working that has always been 
 my weak point. I wanted radical reforms, and I am too 
 ready to take my oath that these reforms were wise and 
 practicable. I hoped to carry them through with the aid 
 of the director, an excellent, honest man, with whom at 
 first I had some influence. His wife encouraged me. I 
 have not seen many such women, brother, in the course of 
 my life. She was nearly forty years old, but she was as 
 
260 Dimilri Roudine. 
 
 enthusiastic for everything that was good and true as a 
 girl of fifteen, and she was not afraid to express her 
 opinions before any one. I shall never forget her earnest- 
 ness, her purity. I already formed a plan, in conformity 
 with her advice .... when secret intrigues were set at 
 work, and all sorts of calumnies about me were whispered 
 to her. The professor of mathematics was my bitterest 
 enemy ; he was a disagreeable, sly, vindictive man, who 
 believed in nothing ; like Pigasoff, only more intelligent. 
 .... By the way, is he still living ? " 
 
 " He lives, and, only think ! he has married a servant- 
 maid, who, they say, beats him." 
 
 " It serves him right. And is Natalie Alexievna well ? * 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Is she happy ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Roudine was silent for a moment. 
 
 " What was I talking about ? . . . . Oh, yes, about the 
 professor of mathematics. He had taken a great hatred 
 to me. He compared my lectures to exhibitions of fireworks, 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 261 
 
 He took hold of every one of my phrases which was not 
 perfectly clear, and made the most of a victory over me 
 about some insignificant work of the sixteenth century, of 
 
 which I had never heard He was suspicious of my 
 
 intentions. My last soap-bubble fell on him, as on a needle, 
 and burst. The inspector, with whom I had disagreed two 
 or three times, prejudiced the director against me; then 
 followed a scene in which I could not give way. I grew 
 angry. The matter was referred to the higher authorities 
 and I was compelled to hand in my resignation. I didn't 
 consider myself beaten, but I wanted to show that I was 
 
 not to be treated in that way But now any one can 
 
 treat me as he' pleases ! . . . . Now I am obliged to go 
 away from here." /- 
 
 There was a moment of silence. The friends looked at 
 one another with their heads cast down. 
 
 Roudine was the first to speak. 
 
 " Yes, brother," he began, I can now cry with Kolzoff, 
 ' Where hast thou brought me, my youth ? I have no 
 longer where to lay my head !'.... And was I really 
 
262 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 good for nothing, and was there nothing for me to do in 
 this world ? I have often asked myself this question, and 
 in spite of all my attempts to set myself lower in my own 
 esteem, I can't help feeling that I have certain abilities 
 which don't fall to the lot of every one. Why must this 
 force remain powerless ? Then, too, dost thou remember 
 when we travelled abroad together, how self-confident and 
 blind I was? .... It is true, I didn't know definitely 
 what I wanted, I revelled in the sound of my own voice, 
 I chased vain phantoms. But now, on the contrary, I 
 can say aloud to the whole world what it is I want ; I have 
 nothing to hide ; I am, in the fullest sense of the word, a 
 well-meaning man ; I have become humble, I am willing 
 to adapt myself to circumstances, I have limited my wishes, 
 I don't strive for any remote object, I confine myself to 
 doing even the slightest service; and yet I do not suc- 
 ceed in anything. What is the reason of this persistent 
 failure ? Why can't I live and work like others ? I no 
 sooner get a definite position, I no sooner establish myself 
 somewhere, than fate casts me pitilessly out again. .... 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 263 
 
 I begin to fear my fate Why is this ? Explain this 
 
 puzzle 1 " 
 
 " Puzzle 1 " repeated Leschnieff. " It is true, thou hast 
 always been a puzzle to me. Even in our youth, when I 
 saw thee acting ill and speaking well, in turn, and that 
 time after time, even then I could not understand thee 
 
 clearly ; that was the reason I ceased to love thee 
 
 Thou hast so much fire, so earnest a longing for the 
 ideal 
 
 " Words, nothing but words. Where are the deeds ? " 
 interrupted Koudine. 
 
 " They lacking 1 What sort of deeds ? " 
 
 "What sort? Supporting a blind grandmother and a 
 whole family by the work of one's hands, like Praschenzoff ; 
 isn't that a deed ? " 
 
 " Yes, of coarse ; but a good word is a deed, too." 
 
 Roudine looked at Leschnieff without speaking, and 
 shook his head. 
 
 Leschnieff started to speak, but he merely passed his 
 hand over his face. 
 
264 Dimitri Ro^ld^ne. 
 
 " And so thou art going to thy country-place ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Thou hast then a farm V " 
 
 " Something of the sort. Two souls and a half. I have 
 a hole in which I can die. Thou art probably thinking, 
 * Even now he can't dispense with his phrases ! ' Cer- 
 tainly phrases have been my ruin ; they have destroyed 
 
 me But what I just said is no phrase ; these are 
 
 not phrases, brother, these wrinkles, this gray hair ; these 
 tattered elbows are no phrases. Thou hast always been 
 severe towards me, and thou hast been right ; but why be 
 severe now, when all is finished, when there is no more 
 oil in the lamp, when the lamp itself is shattered and the 
 wick is nearly burned out ? Brother, death must bring 
 reconciliation at last." 
 
 Leschnieff sprang from his chair. 
 
 " Roudine 1 " he cried, " why speak in that way ? How 
 have I deserved such harshness ? Who has made me 
 judge, and what sort of a man she uld I be if the word 
 1 phrase ' could come into my hea i at the sight of thy 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 265 
 
 wrinkles, and thy hollow cheeks? Dost thou want to 
 know what I think of thee? Very well ! I think this 
 man .... with his talents, what might he not have 
 attained, what earthly possessions might he not control, if 
 he had only wished it ! .... and I find him hungry, with- 
 out a roof over his head." 
 
 " I arouse thy pity," said Roudine almost inaudibly. 
 
 " No, thou art mistaken. It is with respect that I am 
 inspired that is the truth. What prevented thee from 
 living for years with thy rich friend ? I am confident he 
 would have made thy fortune sure, if thou hadst been 
 willing to subject thyself to him. Why was it thy stay at 
 the Gymnasium was so short? Why, why, strange 
 marl) whatever thy first intention, must the end always 
 be the sacrifice of thy own interest, without taking root in 
 any soil, however fertile it may be ? " 
 
 "I can never be at peace," answered Roudine with a 
 humble smile, " I have always been the foot-ball of fortune." 
 
 " That is true, but thou hast no rest, not because a 
 gnawing worm drives thee on; that is not it, it is not 
 
266 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 merely the spirit of restlessness. The fire which consumes 
 thee is the love of truth, and in spite of all sufferings it 
 glows in thee more strongly than in many others, who 
 don't consider themselves egoists, and perhaps take you 
 for an intriguer. In thy place I should have long since 
 silenced that impulse, and should have reconciled myself 
 with all about me ; but nothing can change thee. After 
 all these cruel deceptions, thou art no bitterer, and I am 
 sure thou art ready to take hold of any work with all the 
 fire of a young man." 
 
 "No, brother, now I am tired," answered Roudine, 
 " very, very tired." 
 
 " Tired ! Any one else would have died under it long 
 ago. Thou sayest, death brings reconciliation. Why should 
 not life ? He whom life has not made indulgent for others 
 deserves no indulgence for himself. And who can say 
 that he does not need it? Thou hast done what was 
 in thy power, thou hast struggled as long as thou wert 
 
 able What need of more ? Our paths were 
 
 different." 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 267 
 
 " Thou, brother, art a different man from me," inter- 
 rupted Roudine, with a sigh. 
 
 " Our paths were different," resumed Leschnieff ; " per- 
 haps it is due to my means, my coolness, and other favor- 
 ing circumstances, that nothing prevented me from sitting 
 with folded hands, an idle spectator of the fray, while 
 thou hadst to go dov/n into the arena, roll up thy sleeves, 
 and toil and struggle. Our paths were different, and yet 
 see how near we are to one another. See, we speak the 
 same language, we understand one another without ex- 
 plaining every word, we have grown up with the same 
 feelings. There are only a few of us left ; we two are the 
 last of the Mohicans ! Long ago we could part and hate 
 one another ; then the life before us seemed long ; but now 
 that our ranks are thinned, now when a new generation 
 passes us with other aims than ours, we must stand by one 
 another. 
 
 " Let us touch glasses, brother, as we used to, and sing 
 ' Gaudeamus igitur.' " 
 
 They touched their glasses, and with emotion, but in 
 
268 Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 the true Russian fashion, all out of tune, they sang the old 
 German student-song. 
 
 " Thou art really going into the country, then ? " said 
 Leschnieff after they had finished. " I don't think thou 
 wilt stay there long, and I cannot imagine with whom, 
 where, and how, thou wilt end thy life .... but don't 
 forget, whatever happens, that thou hast always a refuge, 
 a nest in which thou canst lay thy head ; that's my house, 
 dost hear, old friend ? Thought has its veterans, and 
 those who have served it deserve an asylum." 
 
 Roudine arose. 
 
 " Thanks, brother, thanks," he said, " I shall never for- 
 get thy offer. But I don't deserve it. I have wasted my 
 life, and I have not served the ideal as I should have." .... 
 
 " Silence," exclaimed Leschnieff. " Every one is as 
 God made him, and one can't ask him to be otherwise. 
 Thou hast called thyself 'The Wandering Jew.' .... 
 Perhaps after all, fate compels thee to wander eternally, 
 perhaps thou art unconsciously fulfilling some higher des- 
 tiny. Does not the saying run, We are all wandering as 
 
Dimitri Roudine. 269 
 
 God directs us? Go on, then, whither his hand leads 
 thee ! " continued Leschnieff, seeing that Roudine was 
 looking for his hat. " Wilt thou not pass the night 
 here?" 
 
 " I am going ! Good-by ! Thanks I am sure I 
 
 shall end badly." 
 
 " God alone knows Thou art really going ? " 
 
 " Yes. Good-by. Don't think too ill of me." 
 
 " Good-by ! Don't think ill of me either, and don't for- 
 get what I've said. Good-by." .... 
 
 The friends embraced. Roudine walked away quickly. 
 
 For a long time Leschnieff walked up and down his 
 room. 
 
 He stopped before the window, murmuring to himself, 
 '< Poor fellow 1 " then he sat down at the table and began 
 a letter to his wife. 
 
 Outside the wind had risen, and was now howling 
 gloomily around the house, while it rattled the shutters 
 with its sudden gusts. It was the beginning of a long 
 autumn night. Happy is he who on siu-li a night has a 
 
2/O Dimitri Roudine. 
 
 roof over his head and a warm corner which he can call 
 his own. And may God aid all homeless wanderers I 
 
 It was hot noon of the 24th of June, 1848. The rising 
 of the ateliers nationaux was almost suppressed ; a battalion 
 of troops of the line was storming a barricade in one of 
 the narrow streets of the Faubourg Saint- Antoine. A 
 few cannon balls had already destroyed it, the defenders 
 who survived were retreating, only caring for their own 
 safety, when suddenly there appeared on the top of the 
 ruins of the barricade a tall man, with flowing white 
 hair. He wore an old coat, with a red sash about his 
 waist, and a straw hat on his head. In one hand he 
 bore a red banner, in the other a short, dull sabre, 
 and he was shouting with a sharp, piercing voice while 
 he tried to make signs with his banner and sabre. A 
 Chasseur de Yincennes took aim fired the banner 
 slipped from his hand, and the man fell slowly on his 
 
 face to the ground The bullet had gone through 
 
 his heart. 
 
GENERAL LIBRARY -U.C. BERKELEY 
 
 Boooaioioa 
 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY