umy underground place into the street, into the sweet, disquieting
darkness of the night, with its beckoning fires in the sky and on the
earth, with its warm, heady air, from which the nostrils dilate avidly,
with its aromas, gliding from unseen gardens and flower-beds,--the head
of each one of them was aflame and the heart quietly and languishingly
yearning from vague desires. It was joyous and arrogant to sense after
the rest the new, fresh strength in all the sinews, the deep breathing
of the lungs, the red, resilient blood in the veins, the supple
obedience of all the members. And--without words, without thoughts,
without consciousness--one was drawn on this night to be running
without raiment in the somnolent forest, to be sniffing hurriedly the
tracks of some one's feet on the dewy grass, with a loud call to be
summoning a female unto one's self.

But to separate was now very difficult. The whole day, passed together,
had shaken them into an accustomed, tenacious herd. It seemed that if
even one were to go away from the company, a certain attained
equilibrium would be disturbed and could not be restored afterwards.
And so they dallied and stamped upon the sidewalk, near the exit of the
tavern's underground vault, interfering with the progress of the
infrequent passers-by. They discussed hypocritically where else they
might go to wind up the night. It proved to be too far to the Tivoli
Garden, and in addition to that one also had to pay for admission
tickets, and the prices in the buffet were outrageous, and the program
had ended long ago. Volodya Pavlov proposed going to him--he had a
dozen of beer and a little cognac home. But it seemed a bore to all of
them to go in the middle of the night to a family apartment, to enter
on tiptoes up the stairs and to talk in whispers all the time.

"Tell you what, brethren ... Let's better ride to the girlies, that
will be nearer the mark," said peremptorily Lichonin, an old student, a
tall, stooping, morose and bearded fellow. By convictions he was an
anarchist--theoretic, but by avocation a passionate gambler at
billiards, races and cards--a gambler with a very broad, fatalistic
sweep. Only the day before he had won a thousand roubles at macao in
the Merchants' Club, and this money was still burning a hole in his
pockets.

"And why not? Right-o!" somebody sustained him. "Let's go, comrades?"

"Is it worth while? Why, this is an all night affair ..." spoke another
with a