"Because I have made a gift of these houses and gardens to you and Marfinka. She said that you would not accept the gift. Is that true?

Marfinka has accepted on the condition that you do not refuse.

Grandmother hesitated, and has not come to a final decision, but waits, it seems, to see what you will say. And how shall you decide. Will a sister take a gift from a brother?"

"Yes, I accept ... but no, I can buy the estate. Sell it to me.... I have money, and will pay you 50,000 roubles for it."

"I will not do it that way."

She looked thoughtfully out on the Volga, the precipice, and the park.

"Very well. I agree to anything you please, so long as we remain here."

"I will have the deed drawn up."

"Yes, thank you!" she said, stretching out both hands to him.

He pressed her hands, and kissed Vera on the cheek. She returned the pressure of his hands and kissed the air.

"You seem really to love the place and this old house."

"And you, do you mean to stay here long?"

"I don't know. It depends on circ.u.mstances--on you."

"On me?"

"Come over to the other house."

"I will follow you. I must first put things straight here. I have not yet unpacked."

The less Raisky appeared to notice Vera, the more friendly Vera was to him, although, in spite of her aunt's wishes she neither kissed him nor addressed him as "thou." But as soon as he looked at her overmuch or seemed to hang on her words, she became suspicious, careful and reserved.

Her coming made a change in the quiet circle, putting everything in a different light. It might happen that she said nothing, and was hardly seen for a couple of days, yet Raisky was conscious every moment of her whereabouts and her doings. It was as if her voice penetrated to him through any wall, and as if her doings were reflected in any place where he was. In a few days he knew her habits, her tastes, her likings, all that love on her outer life. But the indwelling spirit, Vera herself, remained concealed in the shadows. In her conversation she betrayed no sign of her active imagination and she answered a jest with a gay smile, but Raisky rarely made her laugh outright. If he did her laughter broke off abruptly to give place to an indifferent silence. She had no regular employment. She read, but was never heard to speak of what she read; she did not play the piano, though she sometimes struck discords and listened to their effects.

Raisky noticed that their aunt was liberal with observation and warnings for Marfinka; but she said nothing to Vera, no doubt in the hope that the good seed sown would bear fruit.

Vera had moments when she was seized with a feverish desire for activity; and then she would help in the house, and in the most varying tasks with surprising skill. This thirst for occupation came on her especially when she read reproach in her aunt's eyes. If she complained that her guests were too much for her, Vera would not bring herself to a.s.sist immediately, but presently she would appear in the company with a bright face, her eyes gleaming with gaiety, and astonished her aunt by the grace and wit with which she entertained the visitors. This mood would last a whole evening, sometimes a whole day, before she again relapsed into shyness and reserve, so that no one could read her mind and heart.

That was all that Raisky could observe for the time, and it was all the others saw either. The less ground he had to go on however, the more active his imagination was in seeking to divine her secret.

She came over every day for a short time, exchanged greetings with her aunt and her sister, and returned to the other house, and no one knew how she pa.s.sed her time there. Tatiana Markovna grumbled a little to herself, complained that her niece was moody, and shy, but did not insist.

For Raisky the whole place, the park, the estate with the two houses, the huts, the peasants, the whole life of the place had lost its gay colours. But for Vera he would long since have left it. It was in this melancholy mood that he lay smoking a cigar on the sofa in Tatiana Markovna's room. His aunt who was never happy unless she was doing something, was looking through some accounts brought her by Savili; before her lay on pieces of paper samples of hay and rye. Marfinka was working at a piece of lace. Vera, as usual, was not there.

Va.s.silissa announced visitors; the young master; from Kolchino.

"Nikolai Andreevich Vikentev, please enter."

Marfinka coloured, smoothed her hair, gave a tug to her fichu, and cast a glance in the mirror. Raisky shook his finger at her, making her colour more deeply.

"The person who stayed one night here," said Va.s.silissa to Raisky, "is also asking for you."

"Markushka?" asked Tatiana Markovna in a horrified tone.

"Yes," said Va.s.silissa.

Raisky hurried out.

"How glad he is, how he rushes to meet him. Don't forget to ask him for the money. Is he hungry? I will send food directly," cried his aunt after him.

There stepped, or rather sprang into the room a fresh-looking, well-built young man of middle height of about twenty-three years of age.

He had chestnut hair, a rosy face, grey-blue keen eyes, and a smile which displayed a row of strong teeth. He laid on a chair with his hat a bunch of cornflowers and a packet carefully done up in a handkerchief.

"Good-day, Tatiana Markovna; Good-day, Marfa Va.s.silievna," he cried. He kissed the old lady's hand, and would have raised Marfinka's to his lips, but she pulled it away, though he found time to s.n.a.t.c.h a hasty kiss from it.

"You haven't been to see us for three weeks," said Tatiana Markovna, reproachfully.

"I could not come. The Governor would not let me off. Orders were given to settle up all the business in the office," said Vikentev, so hurriedly that he nearly swallowed some of the words.

"That is absurd; don't listen to him, Granny," interrupted Marfinka. "He hasn't any business, as he himself said."

"I swear I am up to my neck in work. We are now expecting a new chief clerk, and I swear by G.o.d we have to sit up into the night."

"It is not the custom to appeal to G.o.d over such trifles. It is a sin,"

said Tatiana Markovna severely.

"What do you mean? Is it a trifle when Marfa Va.s.silievna will not believe me, and I, by G.o.d--"

"Again?"

"Is it true, Tatiana Markovna, that you have a visitor? Has Boris Pavlovich arrived? Was it he I met in the corridor? I have come on purpose--"

"You see, Granny, he has come to see my cousin. Otherwise he would have stayed away longer, wouldn't he?"

"As soon as I could tear myself away, I came here. Yesterday I was at Kolchino for a minute, with Mama--"

"Is she well?"

"Thanks for the kind thought. She sends her kind regards and begs you not to forget her nameday."

"Many thanks. I only don't know whether I can come myself. I am old, and fear the crossing of the Volga."

"Without you, Granny, Vera and I will not go. We, too, are afraid of crossing the Volga."

"Be ashamed of yourself, Marfa Va.s.silievna. What are you afraid of? I will fetch you myself with our boat. Our rowers are singers."

"Under no circ.u.mstances will I cross with you. You never sit quiet in the boat for a minute. What have you got alive in that handkerchief? See, Granny, I am sure it's a snake."

"I have brought you a carp, Tatiana Markovna, which I have caught myself.

And these are for you, Marfa Va.s.silievna. I picked the cornflowers here in the rye."