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Lutchkov swayed up and down in his low chair, screwed up his eyes, stretched, and putting down Kister's emotion to jealousy, was almost gasping with delight. But it was not jealousy that was torturing Kister; he was wounded, not by the fact itself, but by Avdey's coarse carelessness, his indifferent and contemptuous references to Masha.
'I know nothing, and have learned nothing, and I have no talents, he said to himself; 'and so you too shall know nothing and not show off your talents before me.... Kister, perhaps, had made Lutchkov abandon the part he had taken up just because before his acquaintance with him, the bully had never met any one genuinely idealistic, that is to say, unselfishly and simple-heartedly absorbed in dreams, and so, indulgent to others, and not full of himself.
On the table lay the letter to his mother.... He felt a momentary pang at his heart. He resolved any way to defer sending it off. There was in Kister that quickening of the vital energies of which a man is aware in face of danger.
Avdey Ivanovitch would come sometimes to Kister, light a pipe and quietly sit down in an arm-chair. Lutchkov was not in Kister's company abashed by his own ignorance; he relied and with good reason on his German modesty. 'Well, he would begin, 'what did you do yesterday? Been reading, I'll bet, eh? 'Yes, I read.... 'Well, and what did you read?
I know you read German poetry with great feeling and even with tears in your eyes; I know that you've hung various maps on your walls; I know you keep your person clean; that I know,... but beyond that, I know nothing... Kister began to lose his temper. 'Allow me to inquire, he asked at last, 'what is the object of your visit?
Not a cloud anywhere. The blue of the sky was so thick and dark on the horizon that the eye mistook it for storm-cloud. The house Mr. Perekatov had erected for a summer residence had been, with the foresight usual in the steppes, built with every window directly facing the sun. Nenila Makarievna had every shutter closed from early morning. Kister walked into the cool, half-dark drawing-room.
'Do be open with me, Marya Sergievna... 'O, silly fellow! how slow you are! Why, look at me, am I not open with you, don't you see right through me? 'Oh, very well... yes; I believe you, Kister said with a smile, seeing with what anxious insistence she tried to catch his eyes. 'But tell me, what induced you to arrange to meet Lutchkov? 'What induced me? I really don't know.
Lutchkov tapped his foot on the floor and shook his head. 'Is there anything so specially attractive about me, hey? I shouldn't have thought there was anything. There isn't anything, is there? And here, I've a clandestine appointment for to-morrow. Kister sat up, leaned on his elbow, and stared in amazement at Lutchkov. 'For the evening, in a wood... Avdey Ivanovitch continued serenely.
You took such a mighty interest in my "blossoming out," you know! Kister walked up and down the room. 'Look here, Lutchkov, he said at last; 'if you really joking apart are convinced of what you say, which I confess I don't believe, then let me tell you, it's shameful and wicked of you to put such an insulting construction on my conduct and intentions.
Every time as he regained his place, he said two or three words to her; Masha, all flushed with running, listened to him with a smile, passing her hand over her hair. After supper, Kister took leave. It was a still, starlight night. Kister took off his cap. He was excited; there was a lump in his throat.
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