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He listened, drew a deep breath and said in a whisper: "Open that door, and go in . . . don't be afraid." Laevsky, puzzled, opened the door and went into a room with a low ceiling and curtained windows. There was a candle on the table. "What do you want?" asked some one in the next room. "Is it you, Muridov?" Laevsky turned into that room and saw Kirilin, and beside him Nadyezhda Fyodorovna.
The reports were very good, but to make them seem even better, she complained, with a sigh, how difficult the lessons at school were now. . . . She made much of her visitor, and was sorry for her, though at the same time she was harassed by the thought that Nadyezhda Fyodorovna might have a corrupting influence on the morals of Kostya and Katya, and was glad that her Nikodim Alexandritch was not at home.
But in Nadyezhda Fyodorovna's words he heard a note of falsity, and simply to contradict her he said: "The point is not the ladybirds, but the deductions made from them." It was late, eleven o'clock, when they began to get into the carriages to go home.
She burst into tears, and I went away. In the spring the company will be in Harkov too. I will come and meet you then, only don't talk of that to anyone. Nadyezhda Ivanovna has gone off to Moscow. YALTA, February 12, 1900. I have been racking my brains over your fourth act, and have come to no conclusion except, perhaps, that you must not end it up with Nihilists.
"It's time I went to my vint. . . . They will be waiting for me," said Laevsky. "Good-bye, my friends." "I'll come with you; wait a minute," said Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, and she took his arm. They said good-bye to the company and went away. Kirilin took leave too, and saying that he was going the same way, went along beside them. "What will be, will be," thought Nadyezhda Fyodorovna.
Three days after the picnic, Marya Konstantinovna unexpectedly called on Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, and without greeting her or taking off her hat, seized her by both hands, pressed them to her breast and said in great excitement: "My dear, I am deeply touched and moved: our dear kind-hearted doctor told my Nikodim Alexandritch yesterday that your husband was dead.
If you were in my place, or that zoologist of yours, Von Koren, you might live with Nadyezhda Fyodorovna for thirty years, perhaps, and might leave your heirs a rich vineyard and three thousand acres of maize; but I felt like a bankrupt from the first day.
The chief point is Nadyezhda Fyodorovna. . . . First of all we must define our relations. . . . Yes." A little later he was considering whether it would not be better to go to Samoylenko for advice. "I might go," he thought, "but what use would there be in it? I shall only say something inappropriate about boudoirs, about women, about what is honest or dishonest.
That must be from the deacon or Kostya. Nadyezhda Fyodorovna imagined how, parting from Laevsky, she would embrace him warmly, would kiss his hand, and would swear to love him all her life, all her life, and then, living in obscurity among strangers, she would every day think that somewhere she had a friend, some one she loved a pure, noble, lofty man who kept a pure memory of her.
"It doesn't interest me to know what every fool says of me," Nadyezhda Fyodorovna said coldly, and the amusing thought of playing with handsome young Atchmianov suddenly lost its charm. "We must go down," she said; "they're calling us." The fish soup was ready by now.
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