. . . Why is it?”

“I really don’t know,” Kovrin said, laughing.

“Hm. . . . Of course, one can’t know everything. . . . However vast a man’s understanding may be it can’t comprehend everything. You’ve chiefly gone in for philosophy?”

“Yes. I lecture on psychology, but I study philosophy in general.”

“And it does not bore you?”

“On the contrary, it’s my very existence.”

“Well, may God prosper your work . . .” Egor Semenych exclaimed, and he stroked his grey whiskers reflectively. “God prosper you! . . . I’m very glad for you. . . . Very glad, indeed, my boy. . . .”

Suddenly he seemed to listen, an expression of anger passed over his face and he ran off to one side and was soon lost to sight among the trees in the clouds of smoke.

“Who has tethered a horse to an apple tree?” his despairing, heartrending cry could be heard. “What villain and scoundrel has dared to tie a horse to an apple-tree? Good God, good God! They have dirtied, spoilt, damaged, ruined it. The orchard is lost! The orchard is destroyed! My God!”

When he returned to Kovrin he looked worn out and insulted.

“What can you do with this accursed people?” he said in a plaintive voice, clasping his hands. “Stepka was carting manure during the night and has tied his horse to an apple tree! The villain tied the reins so tight round it that the bark has been rubbed in three places.