nvicts. "The convict," he says, in his book on the prison of
Sakhaline, of which he made a profound study during his stay on the
island, "the prisoner, completely corrupted and unjust as he himself
is, loves justice more than any one else does, and if he does not
find it in his superiors, he becomes angry, and grows baser and more
distrustful from year to year."

* * * * *

In the last works of Tchekoff the pessimistic tendency grows greater
and greater. It seems as if the writer had gone through a sort of
moral crisis, brought on by the conflict of his old despair and his
new hopes. At this time, Russian society itself began to shake off
its apathy, and this awakening, sweeping like a vivifying wave into
the soul of the sad artist, opened for him, at the same time,
perspectives of new ideas.

This second aspect of Tchekoff's talent is perceptible in the story
called "The Student." A seminarist, Velikopolsky by name, tells the
gardener Vassilissa and her daughter Lukeria about St. Peter's
denial of Christ. As a result of the impression which this story
makes on her Vassilissa suddenly breaks into tears; she weeps a long
time and hides her face as if she were ashamed of crying. Lukeria,
who has been watching the student fixedly, blushes and her face
takes on the tender and sad expression which is characteristic of
those whose life is made up of deep suffering. After taking leave of
them, the student thinks that Vassilissa's tears and the emotion of
her daughter come from sorrows connected with the things he has just
told them.

"If the old woman wept, it was not because he knew how to tell the
story in a touching manner, but because Peter was near to her, and
because she was interested, heart and soul, in what was going on in
the mind of the apostle...."

Joy suddenly fills his heart, and he stops a moment to take a long
breath. "The past," he muses, "is bound to the present by an
uninterrupted chain of events." "And it seems to him that he has
just seen the two ends of this chain: he has touched one, and the
other has vibrated...."

* * * * *

In an ironical manner and by using very personal material, Tchekoff
paints more than anything else, life in its passive or negative
manifestations. Nevertheless, it is not satire, at least not in its
general trend, for in his work we find too much human tenderness for
satire. He does not laugh at his character