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Ivan Ivanovitch, the veterinary surgeon, and Burkin, the high-school teacher, were already tired from walking, and the fields seemed to them endless.
"Byelikov lived in the same house as I did," Burkin went on, "on the same storey, his door facing mine; we often saw each other, and I knew how he lived when he was at home.
I went into the next compartment it was empty and until I reached the next station I sat there crying. Then I walked home to Sofino...." While Alehin was telling his story, the rain left off and the sun came out. Burkin and Ivan Ivanovitch went out on the balcony, from which there was a beautiful view over the garden and the mill-pond, which was shining now in the sunshine like a mirror.
Among other things, they spoke of the fact that the elder's wife, Mavra, a healthy and by no means stupid woman, had never been beyond her native village, had never seen a town nor a railway in her life, and had spent the last ten years sitting behind the stove, and only at night going out into the street. "What is there wonderful in that!" said Burkin.
I, too, used to say that science was light, that culture was essential, but for the simple people reading and writing was enough for the time. Freedom is a blessing, I used to say; we can no more do without it than without air, but we must wait a little. Yes, I used to talk like that, and now I ask, 'For what reason are we to wait?" asked Ivan Ivanovitch, looking angrily at Burkin.
Both of them had met her in the town, and Burkin knew her and thought her beautiful. IVAN DMITRITCH, a middle-class man who lived with his family on an income of twelve hundred a year and was very well satisfied with his lot, sat down on the sofa after supper and began reading the newspaper. "I forgot to look at the newspaper today," his wife said to him as she cleared the table.
He swam to the mill, talked to the peasants there, then returned and lay on his back in the middle of the pond, turning his face to the rain. Burkin and Alehin were dressed and ready to go, but he still went on swimming and diving. "Oh, my goodness!..." he said. "Oh, Lord, have mercy on me!..." "That's enough!" Burkin shouted to him. They went back to the house.
Ivan Ivanovitch heaved a deep sigh and lighted a pipe to begin to tell his story, but just at that moment the rain began. And five minutes later heavy rain came down, covering the sky, and it was hard to tell when it would be over. Ivan Ivanovitch and Burkin stopped in hesitation; the dogs, already drenched, stood with their tails between their legs gazing at them feelingly.
Now, in still weather, when all nature seemed mild and dreamy, Ivan Ivanovitch and Burkin were filled with love of that countryside, and both thought how great, how beautiful a land it was. "Last time we were in Prokofy's barn," said Burkin, "you were about to tell me a story." "Yes; I meant to tell you about my brother."
He recognized Ivan Ivanovitch and Burkin, and was apparently much delighted to see them. "Go into the house, gentlemen," he said, smiling; "I'll come directly, this minute." It was a big two-storeyed house.
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