When I served on a special commission at the governor-general's of Moscow avec Ladisias, I learned to scent these gentlemen as well as nonconformists. I believe in instinct above everything." Here Kollomietzev related how he had once caught an old sectarian by the heel somewhere near Moscow, on whom he had looked in, accompanied by the police, and who nearly jumped out of his cottage window. "He was sitting quite quietly on his bench until that moment, the blackguard!"

Kollomietzev forgot to add that this old man, when put into prison, refused to take any food and starved himself to death.

"And your new tutor," Kollomietzev went on zealously, "is a revolutionist, without a shadow of a doubt! Have you noticed that he is never the first to bow to anyone?"

"Why should he?" Madame Sipiagina asked; "on the contrary, that is what I like about him."

"I am a guest in the house in which he serves," Kollomietzev exclaimed, "yes, serves for money, comme un salarie.... Consequently I am his superior.... He ought to bow to me first."

"My dear Kollomietzev, you are very particular," Sipiagin put in, laying special stress on the word dear. "I thought, if you'll forgive my saying so, that we had outgrown all that. I pay for his services, his work, but he remains a free man."

"He does not feel the bridle, le frein! All these revolutionists are like that. I tell you I can smell them from afar! Only Ladisias can compare with me in this respect. If this tutor were to fall into my hands wouldn't I give it to him! I would make him sing a very different tune! How he would begin touching his cap to me—it would be a pleasure to see him!"

"Rubbish, you swaggering little braggart!" Nejdanov almost shouted from above, but at this moment the door opened and, to his great astonishment, Markelov entered the room.





X

NEJDANOV rose to meet him, and Markelov, coming straight up to him, without any form of greeting, asked him if he was Alexai Dmitritch, a student of the St. Petersburg University.

"Yes," Nejdanov replied.

Markelov took an unsealed letter out of a side pocket.

"In that case, please read this. It is from Vassily Nikolaevitch," he added, lowering his voice significantly.

Nejdanov unfolded and read the letter. It was a semi-official circular in which Sergai Markelov was introduced as one of "us," and absolutely trustworthy; then followed some advice about the urgent necessity of united action in the propaganda of their well-known principles. The circular was addressed to Nejdanov, as being a person worthy of confidence.

Nejdanov extended his hand to Markelov, offered him a chair, and sat down himself.

Markelov, without saying a word, began lighting a cigarette; Nejdanov followed his example.

"Have you managed to come in contact with the peasants here?" Markelov asked at last.

"No, I haven't had time as yet."

"How long have you been here?"

"About a fortnight."

"Have you much to do?"

"Not very much."

Markelov gave a severe cough.

"H'm! The people here are stupid enough. A most ignorant lot. They must be enlightened. They're wretchedly poor, but one can't make them understand the cause of their poverty."

"Your brother-in-law's old serfs, as far as one can judge, do not seem to be poor," Nejdanov remarked.

"My brother-in-law knows what he is about; he is a perfect master at humbugging people. His peasants are certainly not so badly off; but he has a factory; that is where we must turn our attention. The slightest dig there will make the ants move. Have you any books with you?"

"Yes, a few."

"I will get you some more. How is it you have so few?"

Nejdanov made no reply. Markelov also ceased, and began sending out puffs of smoke through his nostrils.

"What a pig this Kollomietzev is!" he exclaimed suddenly. "At dinner I could scarcely keep from rushing at him and smashing his impudent face as a warning to others. But no, there are more important things to be done just now. There is no time to waste getting angry with fools for saying stupid things. The time has now come to prevent them doing stupid things."

Nejdanov nodded his head and Markelov went on smoking. "Among the servants here there is only one who is any good," he began again. "Not your man, Ivan, he has no more sense than a fish, but another one, Kirill, the butler." (Kirill was known to be a confirmed drunkard.) "He is a drunken debauchee, but we can't be too particular. What do you think of my sister?" he asked, suddenly fixing his yellowish eyes on Nejdanov. "She is even more artful than my brother-in-law. What do you think of her?"

"I think that she is a very kind and pleasant lady...besides, she is very beautiful."

"H'm! With what subtlety you St. Petersburg gentlemen express yourselves! I can only marvel at it. Well, and what about—" he began, but his face darkened suddenly, and he did not finish the sentence.