Yulia shrugged her shoulders.
‘‘I don’t know,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ve never loved my husband very much, and Olya is essentially my first love. You know, I didn’t marry Alexei for love. Before, I used to be stupid, I suffered, I kept thinking I’d ruined his life and mine, but now I see there’s no need for any love, it’s all nonsense.’’
‘‘But if it isn’t love, what feeling binds you to your husband? Why do you live with him?’’
‘‘I don’t know... Just so, out of habit, it must be. I respect him, I miss him when he’s away for long, but that— isn’t love. He’s an intelligent, honest man, and that’s enough for my happiness. He’s very kind, simple...’
‘‘Alyosha’s intelligent, Alyosha’s kind,’’ said Kostya, lazily raising his head, ‘‘but, my dear, to find out that he’s intelligent, kind, and interesting, you have to go through hell and high water with him... And what’s the use of his kindness or his intelligence? He’ll dish you up as much money as you like, that he can do, but if there’s a need for strength of character, to resist some brazenheaded boor, he gets embarrassed and loses heart. People like your gentle Alexis are wonderful people, but they’re not fit for struggle. And generally, they’re not fit for anything.’’
At last the train appeared. Perfectly pink steam poured from the smokestack and rose above the grove, and two windows in the last car suddenly flashed so brightly in the sun that it was painful to look.
‘‘Teatime!’’ said Yulia Sergeevna, getting up.
She had gained weight recently, and her gait was now ladylike, slightly lazy.
‘‘But all the same, it’s not good without love,’’ said Yartsev, walking after her. ‘‘We just keep talking and reading about love, but we love little ourselves, and that really isn’t good.’’
‘‘It’s all trifles, Ivan Gavrilych,’’ said Yulia. ‘‘That’s not where happiness lies.’’
They had tea in a little garden where mignonette, stock, and nicotiana were blooming and the early gladioli were already opening. By Yulia Sergeevna’s face, Yartsev and Kochevoy could see that she was living through a happy time of inner peace and balance, and that she needed nothing besides what was already there, and they themselves felt inwardly peaceful and well. Whatever any of them said, it all came out intelligent and to the point. The pines were beautiful, the resin smelled more wonderful than ever, and the cream was very tasty, and Sasha was a nice, intelligent girl...
After tea, Yartsev sang romances, accompanying himself on the piano, while Yulia and Kochevoy sat silently and listened, only Yulia got up from time to time and quietly went to look at the baby and at Lida, who for two days now had lain in a fever and eaten nothing.
‘‘ ‘My friend, my tender friend...’ ’ sang Yartsev. ‘‘No, ladies and gentlemen, you can put a knife in me,’’ he said and shook his head, ‘‘but I don’t understand why you’re against love! If I weren’t busy fifteen hours a day, I’d certainly fall in love.’’
Supper was served on the terrace; it was warm and still, but Yulia wrapped herself in a shawl and complained of the dampness. When it got dark, she felt out of sorts for some reason, kept shuddering, and asked her guests to stay longer; she offered them wine and had cognac served after supper to keep them from leaving. She did not want to be left alone with the children and the servants.
‘‘We dacha women are organizing a show for the children,’’ she said. ‘‘We already have everything—the space and the actors—all we need is a play. About two dozen plays have been sent to us, but not a single one of them will do. Now, you love theater and you know history well,’’ she turned to Yartsev, ‘‘so write us a history play.’’
‘‘Well, that’s possible.’’
The guests drank all the cognac and got ready to leave. It was past ten o’clock, late by dacha standards.
‘‘How dark, dark as pitch!’’ Yulia said, seeing them off to the gate. ‘‘I don’t know how you’ll make it, gentlemen. Anyhow, it’s cold!’’
She wrapped herself more tightly and went back to the porch.
‘‘And my Alexei must be playing cards somewhere!’’ she called. ‘‘Good night!’’
After the bright rooms, nothing could be seen. Yartsev and Kostya felt their way like blind men, reached the railroad tracks, and crossed them.
‘‘Can’t see a damned thing!’’ Kostya suddenly said in a bass voice, stopping and looking at the sky. ‘‘But the stars, the stars, like new coins! Gavrilych!’’
‘‘Eh?’’ Yartsev responded somewhere.
‘‘I say: can’t see a thing. Where are you!’’
Yartsev, whistling, came up to him and took his arm.
‘‘Hey, dacha people!’’ Kostya suddenly shouted at the top of his voice. ‘‘We’ve caught a socialist!’’
When tipsy, he was always very restless, shouted, picked on policemen and cabbies, sang, guffawed furiously.
‘‘Nature, devil take it!’’ he shouted.
‘‘Now, now,’’ Yartsev tried to calm him down. ‘‘Mustn’t do that. I beg you.’’
Soon the friends became accustomed to the darkness and began to make out the silhouettes of the tall pines and telephone poles. Rare whistles reached them from the Moscow stations, and the wires hummed plaintively. The grove itself made no sound, and in this silence, something proud, strong, mysterious could be felt, and now, at night, it seemed that the tops of the pines almost touched the sky. The friends found their cutting and went along it. It was quite dark here, and only by the long strip of sky spangled with stars, and the trampled ground under their feet, did they know they were going along a path. They walked side by side in silence, and both fancied there were people coming in the opposite direction. The drunken mood left them. It occurred to Yartsev that the souls of Moscow tsars, boyars, and patriarchs might be flitting about in this grove now, and he was going to say so to Kostya but restrained himself.
When they came to the city gate, there was a slight glimmer in the sky. Still silent, Yartsev and Kochevoy walked along the pavement past cheap dachas, taverns, lumber yards; under the railway arch, the dampness, pleasant, scented with lindens, chilled them, and then a long, wide street opened out, with not a soul on it, not a light... When they reached Krasny Pond, day was already breaking.
