In childhood the decorative part of the garden, called contemptuously by Pesotzky "the rubbish," had produced on Kovrin a fabulous impression. \\"hat miracles of art, what studied monstrosities, what mockeries of nature! Espaliers of fruit trees, a pear tree shaped like a pyramidal poplar, globular oaks and lindens, apple-tree houses, arches, monograms, candelabra—even the date 1862 in plum trees, to com- memorate the year in which Pesotzky first engaged in the art of gardening. There were stately, symmetrical trees, with trunks erect as those of palms, which after examination proved to be gooseberry or currant trees. But what most of all enlivened the garden and gave it its joyous tone was the constant movement of Pesotzky's gardeners. From early morning to late at night, by the trees, by the bushes, in t.he alleys, and on the beds swarmed men as busy as ants, with barrows, spades, and watering-pots.
Kovrin arrived at Borisovka at nine o'clock. He found Tanya and her father in great alarm. The clear starlight hight foretold frost, and the head gardener, Ivan Karlych, had gone to tovn, so that there was no one who could be relied upon. At supper they spoke only of the impending frost; and it was decided that Tanya should not go to bed at all, hut should inspect the gardens at one o'clock and see if all were in order, while Yegor Semionovich should rise at three o"clock, or even earlier.
Kovrin sat with Tanya all the evening dnd after midnight accompanied her to the garden. The air already smelt strongly of burning. In the great orchard, called "the commercial," which every year brought Yegor Semionovich thousands of rubles profit, there already crept along the ground the thick, black, sour smoke which was to clothe the young leaves and save the plants. The trees were marshalled like chessmen in straight rows—like ranks of soldiers; and this pedantic regularity, together with the uniformity of height, made the garden seem monotonous and even tiresome. Kovrin and Tanya walked up and down the alleys, and watched the fires of dung, straw, and litter; but seldom met the workmen, who wandered in the smoke like shadows. Only the cherry and plum trees and a few apple trees were in blossom, but the whole garden was shrouded in smoke, and it was only when they reached the seed-plots that Kovrin was able to breathe.
"I remember when I was a child sneezing from the smoke," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "but to this day I cannot understand how smoke saves plants from the frost."
"Smoke is a good substitute when there are no clouds,'' answered Tanya.
"But what do you want the clouds for?"
"In dull and cloudy weather we have no morning frosts."
"Is that so?" said Kovrin.
He laughed and took Tanya by the hand. Her broad, very serious, chilled face; her thick, black eyebrows; the stiff collar on her jacket which prevented her from moving her head freely; her dress tucked up out of the dew; and her whole figure, erect and slight, pleased him.
"Heavens! how she has grown!" he said to himself, "When I was here last time, five years ago, you were quite a child. You were thin, long-legged, and untidy, and worc a short dress, and I used to tease you. What a change in five years!"
"Yes, five years!" sighed Tanya. "A lot of things havf happened since then. Tell me, Andrei, honestly," she said, looking merrily into his face, "do you feel that you have got out of touch with us? But why do I ask? You are a man, you live your own interesting life, you . . . Some estrangement is natural. But whether that is so or not, Andriusha, I want you now to look on us as your own. We have a right to that."
"I do, already, Tanya."
"Your word of honour?"
"My word of honour."
"You were surprised that we had so many of your photo^ graphs. But surely you know how my father adores you, worships you. You are a scholar, and not an ordinary man; you have built up a brilliant career, and he is firmly convinced that you turned out a success because he educated you. I do not interfere with his delusion. Let him believe it!"
Already dawn. The sky paled, and the foliage and clouds of smoke began to show themselves more clearly. The night- ingale sang, and from the fields came the cry of quails.
"It is time for bed!" said Tanya. "It is cold too." She took Kovrin by the hand. "Thanks, Andriusha, for coming. We .ue cursed with most uninteresting acquaintances, and not many even of them. With us it is always garden, garden, garden, and nothing else. Trunks, timbers," she laughed, "pippins, rennets, budding, pruning, grafting. ... All our life goes into the garden, we never even dream of anything but apples and pears. Of course this is all very good and useful, but sometimes I cannot help wishing for change. I remember when you used to come and pay us visits, and when you came home for the holidays, how the whole house grew fresher and brighter, as if someone had taken the covers off the furniture. I was then a very little girl, but I under^ stood. . . ."
Tanya spoke for a time, and spoke with feeling. Thea suddenly it came into Kovrin's head that during the sum- mer he might become attached to this little, weak, talkative being, that he might get carried away, fall in love—in their
TIE BLACK MONK position what was more probable and natural? The thought pleased him, amused him, and as he bent down to the kind, troubled face, he hummed to himself Pushkin's couplet:
"Oniegin, I will not conceal That I love Tatyana madly."
By the time they reached the house Yegor Semionovich had risen. Kovrin felt no desire to sleep; he entered into con- versation with the old man, and returned with him to the garden. Yegor Semionovich was tall, broad-shouldered, and fat. He suffered from shortness of breath, yet walked so quickly that it was difficult to keep up with him. His expres- sion was always troubled and hurried, and he seemed to be thinking that if he were a single second late everything would be destroyed.
"There, brother, is a mystery for you I" he began, stop- ping to recover breath. "On the surface of the ground, as you see, there is frost, but raise the thermometer a couple of yards on your stick, and it is quite warm. . . . Why is that?"
"I confess I don't know," said Kovrin, laughing.
"No! . . . You can't know everything. . . . The biggest brain cannot comprehend everything. You are still engaged with your philosophy?"
"Yes, . . I am studying psychology, and philosophy gen- erally."
"And it doesn't bore you?"
"On the contrary, I couldn't live without it."
"Well, God grant . . ." began Yegor Semionovich, smooth- ing his big whiskers thoughtfully. "Well, God grant ... I am very glad for your sake, brother, very glad. . . ."
Suddenly he began to listen, and making a terrible face, ran off the path and soon vanished among the trees in a cloud of smoke.
"Who tethered this horse to the tree?" rang out a despair- ing voice. "Which of you thieves and murderers dared to tether this horse to the apple tree? My God, my God! Ruined, ruined, spoiled, destroyed! The garden is ruined, the garden is destroyed! My God! "
When he returned to Kovrin his face bore an expression >f injury and impotence.
"What on earth can you do with these accursed people?" he asked in a whining voice, wringing his hands. "Stepka brought a manure cart here last night and tethered the horse to an apple tree . . . tied the reins, the idiot, so tight, that the bark is rubbed off in three places. What can you do with men like this? I speak to him and he blinks his eyes and looks stupid. He ought to be hanged!"
When at last he calmed down, he embraced Kovrin and kissed him on the cheek.