ge to a doctor.

VIII

Summer had come again, and the doctor advised their going into the
country. Kovrin had recovered; he had left off seeing the black
monk, and he had only to get up his strength. Staying at his
father-in-law's, he drank a great deal of milk, worked for only two
hours out of the twenty-four, and neither smoked nor drank wine.

On the evening before Elijah's Day they had an evening service in
the house. When the deacon was handing the priest the censer the
immense old room smelt like a graveyard, and Kovrin felt bored. He
went out into the garden. Without noticing the gorgeous flowers,
he walked about the garden, sat down on a seat, then strolled about
the park; reaching the river, he went down and then stood lost in
thought, looking at the water. The sullen pines with their shaggy
roots, which had seen him a year before so young, so joyful and
confident, were not whispering now, but standing mute and motionless,
as though they did not recognise him. And, indeed, his head was
closely cropped, his beautiful long hair was gone, his step was
lagging, his face was fuller and paler than last summer.

He crossed by the footbridge to the other side. Where the year
before there had been rye the oats stood, reaped, and lay in rows.
The sun had set and there was a broad stretch of glowing red on the
horizon, a sign of windy weather next day. It was still. Looking
in the direction from which the year before the black monk had first
appeared, Kovrin stood for twenty minutes, till the evening glow
had begun to fade. . . .

When, listless and dissatisfied, he returned home the service was
over. Yegor Semyonitch and Tanya were sitting on the steps of the
verandah, drinking tea. They were talking of something, but, seeing
Kovrin, ceased at once, and he concluded from their faces that their
talk had been about him.

"I believe it is time for you to have your milk," Tanya said to her
husband.

"No, it is not time yet . . ." he said, sitting down on the bottom
step. "Drink it yourself; I don't want it."

Tanya exchanged a troubled glance with her father, and said in a
guilty voice:

"You notice yourself that milk does you good."

"Yes, a great deal of good!" Kovrin laughed. "I congratulate you:
I have gained a pound in weight since Friday." He pressed his head
tightly in his hands and said miserably: "Why, why have you cured
me? Preparations of bromide, idleness, hot baths, supervision,
cowardly consterna