" But you have always repulsed me," said Alexandr, timidly, not raising his eyes.
" Yes, when you tried to embrace me."
" You have laughed at me, at my feelings,"
" Ah, it is out at last! " Sit down; I have not finished yet! " said Piotr Ivanitch coldly. " YQu r third and best ( friend I hope you will name yourself." """"
V ""Alexandr gazed at him again and seemed to ask " Who \is it ? " Piotr Ivanitch pointed to his wife.
" Here she is."'
"Piotr Ivanitch," interposed Iizaveta^.Alj^ajidroxna, " don't f>e clever; for goodness' sa£e, stop."
" No, don't interfere."
" I know how to value my aunt's friendship," murmured Alexandr indistinctly.
" No, you don't { if you did, you would not have looked up to the ceiling for a friend, but would have pointed to her.
If you had appreciated her friendship, you would have valued her qualities too well to have despised men in general. She alone would have redeemed in your eyes the failings of others. Who has dried your tears and wept with you ? Who has shown you sympathy in every foolishness, and what a sympathy ! I suppose only your mother could have taken so warmly to heart everything that concerned you, and she would not have known how to do it. If you had felt it, you would not have talked of nothing but " hard cold neglect in friendship."
"Ah, matan.tel" said Alexandr, overwhelmed and utterly annihilated by this reproach, " do you suppose that I don't value this and don't reckon you as a shining exception to the common herd ? My God, I swear "
" I believe you, I believe you, Alexandr !" she answered ; " don't listen to Piotr Ivanitch ; he makes a mountain out of a molehilclass="underline" he likes an opportunity of showing his clever-ness. Leave off, for heaven's sake, Piotr Ivanitch."
" Directly: I will finish directly— one utterance more—the last I You said that you performed everything demanded by your duties to others ? "
Alexandr did not answer another word nor raise his eyes.
" C ome, tell me, do you love your mother ?_" 4 N Atexanar woke up at once.
" What a question ? " he said; " whom should I love if not ? I am devoted to her, I woul d lay down my life for her."
" Good?' "YOETnlust'"tnow very"weTT ll'iat slie lives Only
\ for you, that every pleasure, every pain of yours, is a pleasure
and a pain for her. She does not count time now by
months, nor weeks, but by the news of you, or from you.
TV11 mg, ig it Imjgr ginrf| yr\n wrntP tO her ? "
Ale xanQf gave a start.
" Tfir ee w eeks/' he murmured.
""No,*Tour months! What am I to call such behaviour? The cfa lady fc> ill Wffh sorrow."
" Is it possible ? Good God !"
" It's not true, not true!" said Lizaveta Alexandrovna, and running at once to the bureau she brought out from it a letter which she handed to Alexandr. " She is not ill, but she is very worried."
" You are spoiling him, Liza," said Piotr Ivanitch.
'\
" And you are severe to excess. Alexandr has had affairs which have for a time drawn him away."
"Forget his mother for the sake of a bit of a girl
Important affairs, on my word!"
" Well, that's enough," she said persuasively, with a gesture at her nephew.
" Alexandr, after reading his mother's letter, had hidden his face behind it
" Don't check my uncle, ma tante; let him thunder in reproaches ; I have deserved worse; lama monster!" he said, with a face of despair.
"Come, calm yourself, Alexandr!" said Piotr Ivanitch; " there are many such monsters. You have been led away by foolishness and have forgotten your mother for a time— that is natural; love for a mother is a quiet feeling. She had one thing in the world—it's natural she should be grieved. There is no reason to hang you for that That's all. Well, I will go and have a nap."
" Uncle ! are you angry ? " said Alexandr in a voice of deep penitence.
"What makes you imagine that? What have I to be vexed about ? I never even thought of being angry. Well, have I done well ? Liza, eh ? "
He tried, in passing, to kiss her, but she turned away.
" I fancy I carried out your behests exactly," added Piotr Ivanitch ; " what is it ? Oh, I forgot one thing; what's the state of your heart, Alexandr ? " he asked.
Alexandr made no answer.
" What must my uncle think of me ? " said Alexandr after a pause.
" Just what he did before," replied Lizaveta Alexandrovna. " Do you suppose he said all this to you from his heart— feeling it ? "
" But do you, ma tante, cease to respect me ? Good God! poor mamma!"
Lizaveta Alexandrovna gave him her hand. " I shall not cease to respect your heart, Alexandr," said she ; " it is feeling which leads it into errors, and so I shall always pardon them."
" Ah, ma tante, you ideal woman !"
" No; simply a woman."
Alexandr was powerfully affected by his uncle's reproof. Sitting with his aunt he sank into painful reflections. He felt as though he had had a bucket of cold water poured over him.
" What is it ? why are you like this ? " inquired his aunt.
" Nothing, ma tante; there is melancholy in my heart. My uncle has let me understand myself; he was a splendid interpreter!"
" Don't you pay attention to him; he sometimes doesn't speak the truth."
" No, don't try to comfort me. I am disgusted with myself now. I have been despising and hating others, and now I despise myself as well. One can escape from other people, but where is one to take refuge from oneself? "
" Ah, that Piotr Ivanitch!" exclaimed Lizaveta Alexan-drovna with a deep sigh; "he would drive any one to melancholy!"
" Only one negative consolation I still have, that I have not deceived anyone; I have not been inconstant in love or in friendship."
"You have not found people able to value you," his aunt replied; " but believe me, a heart will be found to appreciate you; I will guarantee that. You are still so young,
forget all this and set to work; you have talent; write
Are you writing anything now ? "
" No."
" Begin to write."
" I'm afraid, ma tante?
" Don't pay attention to Piotr Ivanitch; you will write, won't you ? "
" Very well."
" You* will begin soon ? "
" As soon as I can. It's all I have left to hope for."
Piotr Ivanitch, awakened from his nap, came up to him in full dress, his hat in his hand. He too advised Alexandr to set to work in his office, and at the subject of agricultural economy for the journal.
" I will try, uncle," answered Alexandr, " but I have just promised my aunt "
Lizaveta Alexandrovna made a sign to him to be silent, but Piotr Ivanitch noticed it.
" What is it ? what have you promised ? " he asked.
" To bring me some new music," she replied.
" No, it's not true ; what was it, Alexandr ? "
" To write a novel or something."
" Haven't you yet given up literature ?" said Piotr Ivanitch, picking a grain of dust off his clothes; " and you, Liza, lead him wrong—all to no purpose!"
" I have not the right to give it up," observed Alexandr.
" Who wants to prevent you ?"
" One hope in the world remains to me, and am I to destroy that too ? If I waste what has been entrusted me from above, then I waste myself."
" But what is it has been entrusted to you, explain to me, please."
" That, uncle, I cannot explain to you. One needs to understand it of oneself. Have you felt a tempest of passion in you; has your fancy fermented and created artistic visions for you which craved embodiment ? "
"High flown! Well, what of this?" asked Piotr Ivanitch.
" Why, that to the man who has not felt this it is impossible to explain the desire to write when some restless spirit keeps repeating to one day and night, asleep and awake: write, write."