was one fir-tree, and all the rest were fruit-trees:
cherries, apples, pears, horse-chestnuts, silvery olive-trees. . . .
There were heaps of flowers, too.

Nikitin and Masha ran along the avenues in silence, laughed, asked
each other from time to time disconnected questions which they did
not answer. A crescent moon was shining over the garden, and drowsy
tulips and irises were stretching up from the dark grass in its
faint light, as though entreating for words of love for them, too.

When Nikitin and Masha went back to the house, the officers and the
young ladies were already assembled and dancing the mazurka. Again
Polyansky led the grand chain through all the rooms, again after
dancing they played "fate." Before supper, when the visitors had
gone into the dining-room, Masha, left alone with Nikitin, pressed
close to him and said:

"You must speak to papa and Varya yourself; I am ashamed."

After supper he talked to the old father. After listening to him,
Shelestov thought a little and said:

"I am very grateful for the honour you do me and my daughter, but
let me speak to you as a friend. I will speak to you, not as a
father, but as one gentleman to another. Tell me, why do you want
to be married so young? Only peasants are married so young, and
that, of course, is loutishness. But why should you? Where's the
satisfaction of putting on the fetters at your age?"

"I am not young!" said Nikitin, offended. "I am in my twenty-seventh
year."

"Papa, the farrier has come!" cried Varya from the other room.

And the conversation broke off. Varya, Masha, and Polyansky saw
Nikitin home. When they reached his gate, Varya said:

"Why is it your mysterious Metropolit Metropolititch never shows
himself anywhere? He might come and see us."

The mysterious Ippolit Ippolititch was sitting on his bed, taking
off his trousers, when Nikitin went in to him.

"Don't go to bed, my dear fellow," said Nikitin breathlessly. "Stop
a minute; don't go to bed!"

Ippolit Ippolititch put on his trousers hurriedly and asked in a
flutter:

"What is it?"

"I am going to be married."

Nikitin sat down beside his companion, and looking at him wonderingly,
as though surprised at himself, said:

"Only fancy, I am going to be married! To Masha Shelestov! I made
an offer today."

"Well? She seems a good sort of girl. Only she is very young."

"Yes, she is young," sighed Nikitin, and shrugged his shoulders
with a careworn air. "Ver