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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Well, we shall make him talk," said Kerbakh. He left his carriage and, going up to the boy, asked him: "Do you know where Trirodov's school is?" The boy silently pointed to one of the roads with his hand. Then he ran off quickly, and disappeared somewhere among the bushes. At last the road went along a fence. Everything all around seemed deserted and quiet.
It seemed as if the same meadows and woods, copses, streams, and bridges repeated themselves again and again. They began to ask the drivers: "Are you sure you're going the right way?" "Perhaps you've lost your way." "I think it's in that direction." The two towers of Trirodov's house soon became visible. They appeared to the right, and yet it was impossible to find the way to them.
Rameyev made haste to return his visit: he went together with Piotr. Piotr did not wish to go to Trirodov's, but could not make up his mind to refuse. He kept frowning on the way, but once in Trirodov's house he tried to be courteous. This he did constrainedly. Misha soon made friends with Kirsha and with some of the boys.
An intimacy sprang up between the Rameyevs and Trirodov that is, to the extent that Trirodov's unsociableness and love of a solitary life permitted him to become intimate. It once happened that Trirodov took Kirsha with him to the Rameyevs and remained to dinner. Several other close acquaintances of the Rameyevs came to dinner.
He took the money, counted it carefully, and put it into his greasy pocket. He was about to take his leave, but Trirodov detained him. "Don't go yet. We'll have a talk." At the same instant a quiet boy in his white clothes appeared from some dark corner. He paused behind Trirodov's chair, and looked at Ostrov.
The sisters had barely time to change for dinner. They entered the dining-room somewhat weary and distraught. They were awaited there by their father Rameyev, the two Matovs the student Piotr Dmitrievitch and the schoolboy Misha, sons of Rameyev's lately deceased cousin to whom Trirodov's estate had previously belonged.
There was an outburst of malignant remarks against Trirodov. It was said that there was a secret underground printing establishment in Trirodov's house, and that not only the instructresses worked there but also Trirodov's young wards. The women exclaimed in horror: "They are mere tots!" "What do you think of your tots now?" "There are no children nowadays."
It was even more clear now than by daylight that life had used him hardly. He felt painfully timid in going to Trirodov, in whom he evidently had certain hopes. Before Ostrov could make up his mind to ring the bell at the gates he walked the entire length of the stone wall that surrounded Trirodov's house and garden and examined it attentively, without learning anything.
Still his passion grew, and his kisses were scorching, and his infuriated gaze with its livid purple dimmed the glances of the two girls. The girls' glances were seeking seeking Trirodov's house.
He experienced the feeling of having passed into another's power. He felt oppressed. A stern smile marked Trirodov's face. He said quietly: "You are of such little value that I could kill you without scruple like a snake. But I am tired even of other people's murders." "My value?" Ostrov muttered hoarsely and absurdly. "What is your value?" went on Trirodov.
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