go after other women then. I am severe about that.'

Olenin joyfully repeated all these words to himself. The memory of them
now gave him pain and now such joy that it took away his breath. The
pain was because she had remained as calm as usual while talking to
him. She did not seem at all agitated by these new conditions. It was
as if she did not trust him and did not think of the future. It seemed
to him that she only loved him for the present moment, and that in her
mind there was no future with him. He was happy because her words
sounded to him true, and she had consented to be his. 'Yes,' thought he
to himself, 'we shall only understand one another when she is quite
mine. For such love there are no words. It needs life--the whole of
life. To-morrow everything will be cleared up. I cannot live like this
any longer; to-morrow I will tell everything to her father, to
Beletski, and to the whole village.'

Lukashka, after two sleepless nights, had drunk so much at the fete
that for the first time in his life his feet would not carry him, and
he slept in Yamka's house.

Chapter XL

The next day Olenin awoke earlier than usual, and immediately
remembered what lay before him, and he joyfully recalled her kisses,
the pressure of her hard hands, and her words, 'What white hands you
have!' He jumped up and wished to go at once to his hosts' hut to ask
for their consent to his marriage with Maryanka. The sun had not yet
risen, but it seemed that there was an unusual bustle in the street and
side-street: people were moving about on foot and on horseback, and
talking. He threw on his Circassian coat and hastened out into the
porch. His hosts were not yet up. Five Cossacks were riding past and
talking loudly together. In front rode Lukashka on his broad-backed
Kabarda horse.

The Cossacks were all speaking and shouting so that it was impossible
to make out exactly what they were saying.

'Ride to the Upper Post,' shouted one.

'Saddle and catch us up, be quick,' said another.

'It's nearer through the other gate!'

'What are you talking about?' cried Lukashka. 'We must go through the
middle gates, of course.'

'So we must, it's nearer that way,' said one of the Cossacks who was
covered with dust and rode a perspiring horse. Lukashka's face was red
and swollen after the drinking of the previous night and his cap was
pushed to the back of his head. He was calling out with authority as
though he were an officer.