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In the holidays they drove about together in droskies, and told fortunes: Kseniya Ippolytovna was presented with a waxen cradle. They drove to town with some mummers, and attended an amateur performance in a club. Polunin dressed up as a wood-spirit, Kseniya as a wood- spirit's daughter out of a birch-grove. Then they visited the neighbouring landowners.
Polunin arrived early. Kseniya Ippolytovna greeted him in the drawing-room. A bright fire burnt on the hearth; beside it were two deep armchairs. No lamps were alight, but the fire-flames cast warm, orange reflections; the round-topped windows seemed silvery in the hoar-frost. Kseniya Ippolytovna wore a dark evening dress and had plaited her hair; she shook hands with Polunin.
Kseniya Ippolytovna had known them a long time: they had been acquaintances even before Arkhipov's marriage. As he greeted her now, he kissed her hand and began speaking about foreign countries principally Germany, which he knew and admired. They passed into the study, where they argued and conversed: they had nothing much to talk about really.
The old butler called Kseniya Ippolytovna at eight; then served her with coffee. After she had taken it, he said austerely: "You will have to go round the house and arrange things, Barina; then go into the study to read books and work out the expenses and write out recipes for your house-party. The old gentry always did that."
The men went to the buffets to drink, the older ones then sat in the drawing-room playing whist, and talked. It was nearly five o'clock when the guests departed. Only the Arkhipovs and Polunin remained. Kseniya Ippolytovna ordered coffee, and all four sat down at a small table feeling worn out. The house was now wrapt in silence. The dawn had just broken.
Vera Lvovna was silent, as usual; and soon went to see Natasha. Polunin also was quiet, walking about the room with his hands behind his back. Kseniya Ippolytovna jested in a wilful, merry, and coquettish fashion with Arkhipov, who answered her in a polite, serious, and punctilious manner. He was unable to carry on a light, witty conversation, and was acutely conscious of his own awkwardness.
Polunin shook his head: "No, I haven't understood." "Dear me, dear me!" she mocked, "and you used to be so quick-witted, my ascetic. Still, health and happiness do not always sharpen the wits. You are healthy and happy, aren't you?" "You are being unjust again," Polunin protested. "You know very well that I love you." Kseniya Ippolytovna gave a short laugh: "Oh, come, come! None of that!"
But the rays died away immediately, leaving a blue crepuscular gloom, in which Kseniya Ippolytovna's figure grew dim, forlorn, and decrepit. Alena curtseyed: Kseniya Ippolytovna hesitated a moment, wondering if she should give her hand; then she went up to Alena and kissed her. "Good evening", she cried gaily, "you know I am an old friend of your husband's."
One long past summer, Polunin and Kseniya Ippolytovna used to greet the glowing dawn together. At sundown, when the birch-trees exhaled a pungent odour and the crystal sickle of the moon was sinking in the west, they bade adieu until the morrow on the cool, dew-sprinkled terrace, and Polunin passionately kissed as he believed the pure, innocent lips of Kseniya Ippolytovna.
By the way, you used to dream of faith; have you found it?" "Yes, I have found it." "Faith in what?" "In life." "But if there is nothing to believe in?" "Impossible!" "I don't know. I don't know." Kseniya Ippolytovna raised her hands to her head.
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