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The sisters were shown many interesting things in the house objects of art and of worship; things which told of distant lands and of hoary antiquity; engravings of a strange and disturbing character; variegated stones, turquoise, pearls; ugly, amorphous, and grotesque idols; representations of the god-child there were many of these, but only one face profoundly stirred Elisaveta....
"That's enough, Petya; what are you saying?" said Rameyev with annoyance. Elisaveta smiled an incredulous smile, full of gentle irony; a golden, saddened smile, set off by the melancholy yellow rose in her black hair. And Elena's astonished eyes dilated widely. "Think it over yourself, uncle," went on Piotr, "and look around you. He has bewitched our little girls completely!"
Elisaveta made a move. "Yes, let's go," she agreed. "It's very interesting and delightful here, but we can't stay for ever." The departure of the sisters had been noticed. A few of the children ran up to them. The children cried gaily: "We will show you the way, or you'll get lost."
Elisaveta strode out of the summer-house. Piotr slowly followed her. His face was sad and his eyes shone feverishly, but he could not utter a word inertia gripped his mind. Quite suddenly he roused himself, raised his head, smiled, overtook Elisaveta. "You love me, Elisaveta," he said with joyous assurance. "You love me, though you won't admit it.
He only sought for the truth, and could not create it he could evoke neither a god from nonentity, nor a devil from dialectical argument; neither a conquering love from carnal emotions, nor a conquering hate from stubborn "Noes." And he loved Elisaveta! He had loved her a long time, with a jealous and helpless love. He loved! What sadness!
Unless I'm mistaken you are instructresses there. As far as one could judge from your light dresses and your contempt of footwear, I think I'm not mistaken, eh? Tell me, it's an amusing life there, isn't it?" "No," said Elisaveta, "we are not instructresses and we do not live there." "What a pity!" said Ostrov incredulously. "I might have told you something about Mr. Trirodov."
The two were brought into harmony at the end, and sang together, "Merciful God, have pity on us sinners, and deliver us from all evil thoughts and earthly hopes." On the title-page was the inscription, most carefully written and even illuminated, "Only the righteous are justified. A religious cantata. Composed and dedicated to Miss Elisaveta Kalitin, his dear pupil, by her teacher, C. T. G. Lemm."
A young robust fellow sprang forward from the crowd with a shout, an enormous cobblestone in his hand. "What's this dog showing his teeth for?" He hit Borodulin on the head with the stone. It was unfortunately too well aimed. Borodulin fell. Others attacked him as he lay there. The workman who hit him with the stone made his escape. Elisaveta and Trirodov were looking out of the window.
A muzhik in a white apron wearing a conspicuous emblem made his way through the crowd and, screwing up his mouth, cried like a madman: "For Rush-ya, I say, fel-lows, kill 'em!" He threw himself on Elisaveta and began to strangle her. She awoke. Again there was a dark, terrible dream. Nothing as yet was to be seen, it was hard to tell what was happening. But fear filled the intense darkness.
So much has already been said; it is far better to add a simple word of one's own than write volumes of superfluities." "Eternal themes are always one and the same," said Elisaveta. "Do they not constitute the content of great art?" "We never originate," said Trirodov. "We always appear in the world with a ready inheritance. We are the eternal successors. That is why we are not free.
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