'Good evening.'
'Yes indeed,' said Kirilin, thoughtfully gazing at the sky.
'And what does that signify?' asked Nadezhda after a brief silence, noticing that Achmianov was observing them both.
'It signifies,' the police officer slowly enunciated, 'that our love has withered—without even flowering, so to speak. What am I to make of that, pray? Some brand of flirtatiousness on yout part? Or do you take me for a booby whom you can treat as you like?'
'It was a mistake. Leave me alone,' Nadezhda said sharply, looking at him panic-stricken on this wonderful, magical evening, and wonder- ing in bewilderment whether there could really have been a moment when chis person had attracted her and seemed close to her.
'Yes indeed,' said Kirilin, and stood in silence for a while.
'Never mind,' he said after a moment's thought. 'Lct's wait till you're in a better mood. In the meantime, I am a man of honour, as I venture to assure you, and I shall permit no doubts to arise on that score. No one triAes with me, madam. I bid you a very good day!'
He saluted and withdrew, thrcading his way between bushes. A little later Achmianov made a hesitant approach.
'Nice evening,' he said with a slight Armenian accent.
He was not bad-looking, hc dressed smartly and had a well-bred youth's ease of manner, but Nadczhda dislikcd him because she owed his father three hundred roubles. She was also displeased that this shop- kccper had becn invitcd on thc picnic—displeased, too, that he should accost her on the very evening when shc felt so pure in heart.
'Thc picnic's rather a succcss,' he said after a while.
'Isn't it?' she agrccd.
'Oh yes,' shc went on casu.ally, as if she had just rcmembercd hcr debt, 'will you tcll them in your shop that Mr. Layevsky will look in within a day or two and pay that thrcc hundred roubles or whatevcr it was?'
'I'd bc glad to lcnd you anothcr three hundrcd just to stop you bringing up that dcbt cvery day. Why so prosaic?'
Nadczhda laughed. Thc absurd idca had occurred to hcr that she could dischargc that debt in onc minutc if she so desired and was sufficientlv immoral. How about making this handsome young imbecile infatuatcd with hcr? How amusing and ridiculous, actually—how crazy!
And she suddcnly wantcd to make him lovc her—thcn rob him, cast him asidc and await the scqucl.
'May I givc you somc advicc?' Achmianov askcd ncrvously. 'Do bcwarc of Kirilin, I bcg you. Hc's going round saying horriblc things about you.'
'I don't carc to know \vhat evcry idiot says about mc,' rcmarked Nadczhda coldly. She \vas seizcd with anxiety and thc amusing thought of having some sport with this pretty boy Achmianov suddcnly lost its charm.
'We must go down,' she said. 'They're calling us.'
Do-wn below the fish stew was now cooked. They poured it into bowls and ate with that ritual air peculiar to picnics. Everyone found the stew very tasty, saying that they had never eaten anything so delicious at home. As happens on picnics, they floundered in a welter of napkins, bundles and surplus bits of greasy papcr drifting about in the wind, they didn't know whose glass or picce of bread was where, thcy spilt wine on the rug and their knees, they scattered salt about. Meanwhile it had grown dark around them, the fire was dying down, and evcryone was too lazy to get up and put on more wood. They all drank wine, and they gave half a glass to Kostya and Katya. Drinking one glass after another, Nadezhda became intoxicated and forgot Kirilin.
'Grand picnic, enchanting evening,' said Layevsky, waxing merry in his cups. 'But I'd rather have a good winter than all this.
"His beaver collar sparkles silver And coruscates with frosty dust."'
'That's a matter of taste,' observed Von Koren.
Layevsky felt a ccrtain unease. The heat of the fire beat into his back, while Von Koren's hatred assailed his chest and face. He felt humiliated and enfeebled by this decent, intelligent man's loathing— based, probably, on some sound, hidden reason. Powerless to with- stand it, he spoke in a wheedling voice.
'I'm crazy about nature,' said he. 'I'm only sorry that I'm not a scientist myself. I envy you.'
'Well, I'm not sorry or envious,' said Nadezhda. 'I don't see how one can seriously study bugs and beetles while the common people are suffering.'
Layevsky shared her view. Totally ignorant of the natural sciences himself, he could not abide the authoritative tone and air of erudite profundity affected by those who study ants' whiskers and cock- roaches' legs. And it had always annoyed him that such people used these whiskers, legs and a thing called protoplasm—somehow he pictured it resembling an oyster—as a basis for solving problems embracing man's origin and life. But Nadezhda's words rang false to him, and he spoke only in order to contradict her.
'It's not thc bugs that matter—it's what you deduce from them.'
VIII
It was l.ate—after ten o'clock—whcn they began climbing into their c.arri.agcs to drivc home. All took thcir scats, the only dcfaultcrs being Nadczhd.a and Achmianov who wcre dashing about on thc other side of thc brook, chasing cach othcr and laughing.
'Hcy therc, hurry up!' Samoylcnko shouted.
'One shouldn't offcr ladics wine,' said Von Korcn softly.
Exhaustcd by thc picnic, by Von Koren's hatred and by his own thoughts, Laycvsky went to meet gay, merry Nadczhda, who felt light as thistlcdown, brcathlcss and roaring with laughter as she seizcd him by both hands and placcd her head on his chcst. He took a step back- wards.
'You're bchaving like a cheap t.art,' he said harshly.
The effect was so very rude that he cven felt sorry for her. On his angry, wcary facc she saw hatred, pity, annoyance with himself—and suddenly her heart sank. She realized that she had gonc too far, hcr behaviour had been too frce and easy. Feeling saddened, cumbrous, fat, coarse, drunk, she mounted the first cmpty carriagc along with Achmianov. Layevsky got in with Kirilin, the zoologist with Samoy- lenko, the deacon with the ladics—and the convoy moved off".
'How typical of thc baboons,' began Von Korcn, wrapping his cloak around him and shutting his eycs. 'You heard what she said—she wouldn't want to study bugs and beetles because of the common people's sufferings. That's how all baboons judge my kind of person. They're a servilc, sly breed, and they've been tcrrorized by knoutings and punchings for ten generations. They cower, thcy gush, thcy fawn —but only under the spur of violence. Now, you let your baboon loose somcwhere whcrc no one's going to take him by the scruff" of the neck —and you just watch him let himself go and throw his wcight about! Watch how bold he is at painting exhibitions, in museums and theatres, or when he passes judgement on sciencc. He rears up, stands on his hind legs, censures, criticizes. Above all, he criticizes—the mark of a slave, that! You just listcn, and you'll fmd that members of the liberal professions are more vilified than any criminal. And why? Because three quarters of society consists of slavcs—of baboons like thcse. Never would such a slave shake hands with you and thank you sin- cerely for your work.'
'I don't know what you expect,' said Samoylcnko, yawning. 'The poor girl is naive enough to want to talk to you scriously and you jump to these conclusions. You have it in for him for some reason, so you drag her in for good measure. But shc's a fine person.'
'Oh, come off it. She's just an ordinary debauched, vulgar, kept woman. Look hcrc, Alexandcr, if you mct a common peasant woman who wouldn't live with her husband and did nothing but giggle and titter, you'd tcll her to go and do a job. Then why be so timid now, so mealy-mouthed? Can it be just because Nadczhda's a civil servant's mistress, not a sailor's?'
'Well, what am I to do about hcr—bcat her?' askcd Samoylenko angrily.
'Don't flatter vice. We only condcmn vice when its back is turned, which is like putting your tongue out at someone when he isn't looking. I'm a zoologist—or a sociologist, which is exactly the samc thing—and you're a doctor. Society trusts us, and it's our job to draw society's attention to the fcarful threat to its wclfare—and to that of future generations—posed by thc cxistence of thesc Nadezhda Ivanovnas.'