a fine, noble
passion springs up and dies away in impotence, turned to no account,
misunderstood or vulgarised. Why is it?

The sledges stopped unexpectedly. I opened my eyes and I saw that
we had come to a standstill in Sergievsky Street, near a big house
where Pekarsky lived. Orlov got out of the sledge and vanished into
the entry. Five minutes later Pekarsky's footman came out, bareheaded,
and, angry with the frost, shouted to me:

"Are you deaf? Pay the cabmen and go upstairs. You are wanted!"

At a complete loss, I went to the first storey. I had been to
Pekarsky's flat before--that is, I had stood in the hall and
looked into the drawing-room, and, after the damp, gloomy street,
it always struck me by the brilliance of its picture-frames, its
bronzes and expensive furniture. To-day in the midst of this splendour
I saw Gruzin, Kukushkin, and, after a minute, Orlov.

"Look here, Stepan," he said, coming up to me. "I shall be staying
here till Friday or Saturday. If any letters or telegrams come, you
must bring them here every day. At home, of course you will say
that I have gone, and send my greetings. Now you can go."

When I reached home Zinaida Fyodorovna was lying on the sofa in the
drawing-room, eating a pear. There was only one candle burning in
the candelabra.

"Did you catch the train?" asked Zinaida Fyodorovna.

"Yes, madam. His honour sends his greetings."

I went into my room and I, too, lay down. I had nothing to do, and
I did not want to read. I was not surprised and I was not indignant.
I only racked my brains to think why this deception was necessary.
It is only boys in their teens who deceive their mistresses like
that. How was it that a man who had thought and read so much could
not imagine anything more sensible? I must confess I had by no means
a poor opinion of his intelligence. I believe if he had had to
deceive his minister or any other influential person he would have
put a great deal of skill and energy into doing so; but to deceive
a woman, the first idea that occurred to him was evidently good
enough. If it succeeded--well and good; if it did not, there would
be no harm done--he could tell some other lie just as quickly and
simply, with no mental effort.

At midnight when the people on the floor overhead were moving their
chairs and shouting hurrah to welcome the New Year, Zinaida Fyodorovna
rang for me from the room next to the study. Languid from lying
down so long, she was si