She started playing around – if you’ll pardon the expression – with a heathen, a Jew he was. What was the lad supposed to do? He threw her out. Now he lives as a bachelor, and she walks the streets.’

‘So he was an idiot,’ said the old man. ‘If he’d never given her any leeway in the first place but had kept her properly reined in, she’d no doubt still be living with him to this day. You mustn’t allow them any freedom from the word go. Never trust a horse in the paddock or a wife in the home.’

At this moment the guard arrived to take the tickets for the next station. The old man gave up his ticket.

‘Yes, you have to rein them in early on, those womenfolk, otherwise it all goes to pot.’

‘But what about that story you were telling us just then about those married men going on the spree in Kunavino?’ I could not resist asking.

‘That’s something altogether different,’ said the merchant, and lapsed into silence.

When the whistle blew he got up, fetched his travelling-bag from under his seat, drew his overcoat tightly around him and, raising his cap to us, went out on to the brake platform.

II

As soon as the old man had gone, several voices took up the conversation again.

‘That fellow was straight out of the Old Testament,’ said the salesclerk.

‘A veritable walking Domostroy,’3 said the lady. ‘What a barbarous conception of woman and marriage!’

‘Yes, we’re a long way behind the European idea of marriage,’ said the lawyer.

‘What these people don’t seem to understand,’ said the lady, ‘is that marriage without love isn’t marriage at all; love is the only thing that can sanctify a marriage, and the only true marriages are those that are sanctified by love.’

The salesclerk listened, smiling. He was trying to memorize as much of this clever talk as he could, for use on future occasions.

The lady’s homily was interrupted half-way through by a sound that seemed to come from behind me and might have been a broken laugh or a sob. When we turned round, we saw my neighbour, the solitary, grey-haired man with the light in his eyes; he had evidently become interested in our conversation and had come closer to us without our noticing. He was standing up, his hands leaning on the back of his seat, and he was plainly in a state of great agitation. His face was red, and a muscle in one of his cheeks was twitching.

‘What’s this love… love… love… that sanctifies marriage?’ he stammered.

Observing the state of agitation he was in, the lady tried to make her reply as gentle and thorough as possible.

‘True love… if true love exists between a man and a woman, then marriage, too, is possible,’ said the lady.

‘Yes, but what’s true love?’ said the man with the light in his eyes, smiling timidly and awkwardly.

‘Everybody knows what love is,’ said the lady, visibly anxious to bring this conversation to an end.

‘I don’t,’ said the man. ‘You’d have to define what you mean…’

‘What? It’s very simple,’ said the lady, though she had to think for a moment. ‘Love? Love is the exclusive preference for one man or one woman above all others,’ she said.

‘A preference lasting how long? A month? Two days, half an hour?’ said the grey-haired man, and he gave a laugh.

‘No, not that kind of preference, you’re talking about something else.’

‘What she means,’ said the lawyer, intervening and designating the lady, ‘is firstly that marriage ought to be based primarily on affection – love, if you like – and that only if this is present does marriage offer something that is, as it were, sacred. Secondly, that no marriage which is not based on natural affection – love, if you like – carries with it any moral obligation. Have I understood you correctly?’ he asked, turning to the lady.

By a movement of her head, the lady indicated her approval of this exposition of her views.

‘It follows, therefore…’ the lawyer began, pursuing his discourse. But by this time the nervous man, whose eyes were now on fire, was clearly restraining himself only with difficulty.

Without waiting for the lawyer to conclude, he said: ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about, the preference for one man or one woman above all others, but what I’m asking is: a preference for how long?’

‘How long? A long time, sometimes for as long as one lives,’ said the lady, shrugging her shoulders.

‘But that only happens in novels, not in real life. In real life a preference like that lasts maybe a year, but that’s very rare; more often it’s a few months, or weeks, or days, or hours,’ he said, evidently aware that this opinion would shock everyone, and pleased at the result.

‘What are you saying? No, no! Sorry, but no!’ we all three of us burst out together. Even the salesclerk made a noise of disapproval.

‘I know, I know,’ said the grey-haired man in a raised voice, louder than any of us. ‘You’re talking about the way things are supposed to be, but I’m talking about the way things actually are. Every man experiences what you call love each time he meets a pretty woman.’

‘Oh, but what you’re saying is dreadful! Surely there’s an emotion that exists between people called love, a feeling that lasts not just months or years, but for the whole of their lives?’

‘Definitely not. Even if one admits that a man may prefer a certain woman all his life, it’s more than probable that the woman will prefer someone else. That’s the way it’s always been and that’s the way it still is,’ he said, taking a cigarette from his cigarette case and lighting it.

‘But there can be mutual affection, surely,’ said the lawyer.

‘No, there can,’t’ the grey-haired man retorted, ‘any more than two marked peas can turn up next to one another in a pea-cart. And besides, it’s not just a question of probability, but of having too much of a good thing. Loving the same man or woman all your life – why, that’s like supposing the same candle could last you all your life,’ he said, inhaling greedily.

‘But you’re just talking about physical love. Wouldn’t you admit that there can be a love that’s founded on shared ideals, on spiritual affinity?’

‘Spiritual affinity? Shared ideals?’ he repeated, making his sound again. ‘There’s not much point in going to bed together if that’s what you’re after (excuse the plain language). Do people go to bed with one another because of shared ideals?’ he said, laughing nervously.

‘I’m sorry,’ said the lawyer. ‘The facts contradict what you’re saying. Our own eyes tell us that marriages exist, that the whole of humanity or at least the greater part of it lives in a married state and that a lot of people manage to stay decently married for rather a long time.’

The grey-haired man began to laugh again.