and let my thoughts carry
me far, far away. . . . It's pleasant sometimes to dream. Let us
dream aloud, _George_."

"I've never been at a girls' boarding-school; I never learnt the
art."

"You are out of humour?" said Zinaida Fyodorovna, taking Orlov's
hand. "Tell me why. When you are like that, I'm afraid. I don't
know whether your head aches or whether you are angry with me. . . ."

Again there was a silence lasting several long minutes.

"Why have you changed?" she said softly. "Why are you never so
tender or so gay as you used to be at Znamensky Street? I've been
with you almost a month, but it seems to me as though we had not
yet begun to live, and have not yet talked of anything as we ought
to. You always answer me with jokes or else with a long cold lecture
like a teacher. And there is something cold in your jokes. . . .
Why have you given up talking to me seriously?"

"I always talk seriously."

"Well, then, let us talk. For God's sake, _George_. . . . Shall
we?"

"Certainly, but about what?"

"Let us talk of our life, of our future," said Zinaida Fyodorovna
dreamily. "I keep making plans for our life, plans and plans--and
I enjoy doing it so! _George_, I'll begin with the question, when
are you going to give up your post?"

"What for?" asked Orlov, taking his hand from his forehead.

"With your views you cannot remain in the service. You are out of
place there."

"My views?" Orlov repeated. "My views? In conviction and temperament
I am an ordinary official, one of Shtchedrin's heroes. You take me
for something different, I venture to assure you."

"Joking again, _George_!"

"Not in the least. The service does not satisfy me, perhaps; but,
anyway, it is better for me than anything else. I am used to it,
and in it I meet men of my own sort; I am in my place there and
find it tolerable."

"You hate the service and it revolts you."

"Indeed? If I resign my post, take to dreaming aloud and letting
myself be carried away into another world, do you suppose that that
world would be less hateful to me than the service?"

"You are ready to libel yourself in order to contradict me." Zinaida
Fyodorovna was offended and got up. "I am sorry I began this talk."

"Why are you angry? I am not angry with you for not being an official.
Every one lives as he likes best."

"Why, do you live as you like best? Are you free? To spend your
life writing documents that are opposed to your own ideas," Zinaida
Fy