They are very domineering and cannot endure independence in others. Women like Madame Sipiagina excite and disturb people of inexperienced and passionate natures, but are fond of a quiet and peaceful life themselves. Virtue comes easy to them, they are placid of temperament, but a constant desire to command, to attract, and to please gives them mobility and brilliance. They have an iron will, and a good deal of their fascination is due to this will. It is difficult for a man to hold his ground when the mysterious sparks of tenderness begin to kindle, as if involuntarily, in one of these unstirred creatures; he waits for the hour to come when the ice will melt, but the rays only play over the transparent surface, and never does he see it melt or its smoothness disturbed!

It cost Madame Sipiagina very little to flirt, knowing full well that it involved no danger for herself, but to take the lustre out of another's eyes and see them sparkle again, to see another's cheeks become flushed with desire and dread, to hear another's voice tremble and break down, to disturb another's soul—oh, how sweet it was to her soul! How delightful it was late at night, when she lay down in her snow-white bed to an untroubled sleep, to remember all these agitated words and looks and sighs. With what a self-satisfied smile she retired into herself, into the consciousness of her inaccessibility, her invulnerability, and with what condescension she abandoned herself to the lawful embrace of her well-bred husband! It was so pleasant that for a little time she was filled with emotion, ready to do some kind deed, to help a fellow creature... Once, after a secretary of legation, who was madly in love with her, had attempted to cut his throat, she founded a small alms-house! She had prayed for him fervently, although her religious feelings from earliest childhood had not been strongly developed.

And so she talked to Nejdanov, doing everything she could to bring him to her feet. She allowed him to come near her, she revealed herself to him, as it were, and with a sweet curiosity, with a half-maternal tenderness, she watched this handsome, interesting, stern radical softening towards her quietly and awkwardly. A day, an hour, a minute later and all this would have vanished without leaving a trace, but for the time being it was pleasant, amusing, rather pathetic, and even a little sad. Forgetting his origin, and knowing that such interest is always appreciated by lonely people happening to fall among strangers, she began questioning him about his youth, about his family... But guessing from his curt replies that she had made a mistake, Valentina Mihailovna tried to smooth things over and began to unfold herself still more before him, as a rose unfolds its fragrant petals on a hot summer's noon, closing them again tightly at the first approach of the evening coolness.

She could not fully smooth over her blunder, however. Having been touched on a sensitive spot, Nejdanov could not regain his former confidence. That bitterness which he always carried, always felt at the bottom of his heart, stirred again, awakening all his democratic suspicions and reproaches. "That is not what I've come here for," he thought, recalling Paklin's admonition. He took advantage of a pause in the conversation, got up, bowed slightly, and went out "very foolishly" as he could not help saying to himself afterwards.

His confusion did not escape Valentina Mihailovna's notice, and judging by the smile with which she accompanied him, she had put it down to her own advantage.

In the billiard room Nejdanov came across Mariana. She was standing with her back to the window, not far from the door of Madame Sipiagina's boudoir, with her arms tightly folded. Her face was almost in complete shadow, but she fixed her fearless eyes on Nejdanov so penetratingly, and her tightly closed lips expressed so much contempt and insulting pity, that he stood still in amazement.

"Have you anything to say to me?" he asked involuntarily.

Mariana did not reply for a time.

"No... yes I have, though not now."

"When?"

"You must wait awhile. Perhaps—tomorrow, perhaps—never. I know so little—what are you really like?"

"But," Nejdanov began, "I sometimes feel... that between us—"

"But you hardly know me at all," Mariana interrupted him. "Well, wait a little. Tomorrow, perhaps. Now I have to go to... my mistress. Goodbye, till tomorrow."

Nejdanov took a step or two in advance, but turned back suddenly.

"By the way, Mariana Vikentievna... may I come to school with you one day before it closes? I should like to see what you do there."

"With pleasure... But it was not the school about which I wished to speak to you."

"What was it then?"

"Tomorrow," Mariana repeated.

But she did not wait until the next day, and the conversation between her and Nejdanov took place on that same evening in one of the linden avenues not far from the terrace.





XIII

SHE came up to him first.

"Mr. Nejdanov," she began, "it seems that you are quite enchanted with Valentina Mihailovna."

She turned down the avenue without waiting for a reply; he walked by her side.

"What makes you think so?"

"Is it not a fact? In that case she behaved very foolishly today. I can imagine how concerned she must have been, and how she tried to cast her wary nets!"

Nejdanov did not utter a word, but looked at his companion sideways.

"Listen," she continued, "it's no use pretending; I don't like Valentina Mihailovna, and you know that well enough. I may seem unjust...