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It was so pleasant to look upon her simple attire, upon the trusting openness of her shoulders, upon the light tan of her feet, and upon the austere outlines of her face. Elisaveta's sunlit depth became transformed for Trirodov into a blue, fathomless height. Elisaveta's love grew stronger; to grow stronger was its desire, and it wished to surmount all intolerable obstacles.
Elisaveta's face had a keen, almost exaggerated, expression of the mastery of will and intellect over the emotions. The long and peculiarly straight parting of her lips was very exquisite. Her blue eyes were cheerful even when her lips did not smile. Their glance was thoughtful and gentle. The bright ruddiness and strong tan of the face seemed strangely alien to it.
Elisaveta and Trirodov walked with the crowd behind the coffin. They spoke of that which enraptures those who seek rapture and frightens those who seek repose. Poignant were Elisaveta's impressions as she stepped upon the sharp cobblestones of the dusty, littered pavement. The road was long. The austere harmony was kept up for some time. At last the cemetery was reached.
He finished reading and in the cold polite praises he felt how remote he was from all these people. Once more, as it frequently had happened before, there stirred in his soul the thought: "Why do I come to see these people?" "There is so little in common between them and me," thought Trirodov. Only Elisaveta's smile and word consoled him. Afterwards there was dancing then card-playing.
Yellow delighted Elisaveta. There was something remote and unpremeditated in this, as if it were a thing remembered from another, previous life. Elisaveta's heavy black braid of hair was coiled tightly and attractively around her head, and as it was lifted quite high at the back, her neck showed sunburnt and gracefully erect.
There, in the dark halls of his house, proud plans were being made. What a beautiful environment of naked beauty! There were the children happy and beautiful in the wood. There were the quiet children in his house radiant and lovable and touched with such sadness. There was the strange Kirsha. Portraits of his first wife naked and beautiful. Elisaveta's blue eyes gleamed dreamily.
"Perhaps," said Piotr, "but Elisaveta's choice revolts me." "Why should it?" asked Rameyev. "For many reasons," replied Piotr. "For one thing, he presented her with a photograph of his dead wife, a naked beauty. Why? Is it right to make universal that which is intimate? She revealed her body to her husband, and not for Elisaveta and for us."
The quiet splashing laughter of the water-nymph behind the reeds under the moon mingled with the quiet, delicious laughter of the nocturnal enchantress who had flaming eyes, burning lips, and a naked body formed from the coils of white flame. Her flaming body was like Elisaveta's body, and the black lightnings of the invisible sorceress were like the blue lightnings of Elisaveta's eyes.
Proud, brave watchwords and bold instructions were heard. The provocateur also made a speech. He urged them to an immediate armed revolt. Some one's voice called out: "Comrades this man's a provocateur!" There was a commotion. The provocateur shouted something in his defence. He was promptly jostled out. Then Stchemilov spoke; he was followed by the invited orator. Elisaveta's agitation grew.
When Elisaveta and Trirodov were once more alone, a dark thought came into Elisaveta's mind. She became pensively sad, and asked: "What of the sleeper in the grave?" "He has awakened," replied Trirodov. "He's in my house. We've dug up his grave just in time to save his mother from having any qualms of conscience." "What do you mean?"
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