But what an uneasy, uneven tone, what nervous, almost unhealthy passion! Here was an article one would suppose of the most peaceful nature, and on the most indifferent subject: it was about the Russian Antonov apple. However, Egor Semenych began with, “audiatur altera pars,” and finished, “sapienti sat,” and between these two quotations there was quite a fountain of various poisonous words addressed to the “learned ignorance of our qualified gardeners who observe nature from the height of their cathedras,” or else M. Gaucher, “whose success has been created by the unlearned and the dilettante.” Here again, quite out of place, was an insincere regret that it was now no longer possible to flog the peasants who stole fruit and broke the trees.

“The work is pretty, charming, healthy, but even here are passions and war,” Kovrin thought. “It must be that everywhere and in all arenas of human activity intellectual people are nervous and remarkable for their heightened sensitiveness. Apparently this is necessary.”

He thought of Tania, who was so delighted with her father’s articles. She was small, pale and so thin that her collar-bones were visible; she had dark, wide-open clever eyes that were always looking into something, searching for something; her gait was short-stepped and hurried like her father’s; she spoke much, she liked to argue, and then even the most unimportant phrase was accompanied by expressive looks and gestures. She certainly was nervous to the highest degree.

Kovrin continued to read, but he could understand nothing, so he threw the book away. The same pleasant excitement he had felt when he danced the mazurka and listened to the music now overcame him again, and aroused in him numberless thoughts. He rose and began to walk about the room, thinking of the black monk. It entered his head that if he alone had seen this strange supernatural monk it must be because he was ill and had hallucinations. This reflection alarmed him, but not for long.

“But I feel very well, and I do nobody any harm; therefore there is nothing bad in my hallucinations,” he thought, and he again felt quite contented.

He sat down on the sofa and seized his head in both hands, trying to restrain the incomprehensible joy that filled his whole being, then he went to the table and began to work. But the thoughts he read in the books did not satisfy him. He wanted something gigantic, immense, astounding. Towards morning he undressed and reluctantly lay down in bed: he ought to sleep!

When he heard Egor Semenych’s footsteps going down to the garden, Kovrin rang the bell and ordered the man-servant to bring him some wine. He drank several glasses of Château-Lafite with pleasure, and then covered himself up to the head; his senses became dim and he went to sleep.

CHAPTER IV

Tears of Tania

EGOR SEMENYCH and Tania often quarreled and said unpleasant things to each other.

One morning they had a quarrel. Tania began to cry and went to her room. She did not appear at dinner nor at tea. At first Egor Semenych went about looking very important and sulky, as if he wished everybody to know that for him the interests of justice and order stood above everything in the world, but soon he was unable to maintain that character and became depressed. He wandered sadly about the park and constantly sighed: “Oh, good God, good God!” At dinner he would not eat a crumb. At last feeling guilty and having qualms of conscience he knocked at his daughter’s locked door and called to her timidly:

“Tania, Tania!”

And in answer he heard on the other side of the door a weak voice exhausted with crying, but still very positive, reply:

“Leave me alone, I beg you!”

The master’s trouble affected the whole house, even the people working in the garden were under its influence. Kovrin was immersed in his own interesting work, but at last he too became sad and felt awkward. In order in some measure to dissipate the general gloomy mood he decided to intervene, and early in the evening he knocked at Tania’s door. He was admitted.

“Oh, oh, what a shame!” he began jokingly, looking with astonishment at Tania’s tear-stained, sad little face that was all covered with red blotches. “Is it possible it is so serious? Oh, oh!”

“If you only knew how he tortures me!” she said, and tears—bitter, plentiful tears—welled up in her large eyes. “He has worn me quite out!” she continued, wringing her hands. “I said nothing to him . . . nothing at all. .