er somewhere on the side. Now listening to
her father's words she pictured to herself what sort of man Smolin might
be. She had met him when he was yet a Gymnasium student, his face was
covered with freckles, he was snub-nosed, always clean, sedate and
tiresome. He danced heavily, awkwardly, he talked uninterestingly.
A long time had passed since then, he had been abroad, had studied
something there, how was he now? From Smolin her thoughts darted to
her brother, and with a sinking heart she thought: what would he say in
reply to her letter? What sort of a man was he? The image of her brother
as she had pictured it to herself prevented her from seeing both her
father and Smolin, and she had already made up her mind not to consent
to marry before meeting Taras, when suddenly her father shouted to her:

"Eh, Lubovka! Why are you thoughtful? What are you thinking of mostly?"

"So, everything goes so swiftly," replied Luba, with a smile.

"What goes swiftly?"

"Everything. A week ago it was impossible to speak with you about Taras,
while now--"

"'Tis need, my girl! Need is a power, it bends a steel rod into a
spring. And steel is stubborn. Taras, we'll see what he is! Man is to
be appreciated by his resistance to the power of life; if it isn't life
that wrings him, but he that wrings life to suit himself, my respects to
that man! Allow me to shake your hand, let's run our business together.
Eh, I am old. And how very brisk life has become now! With each
succeeding year there is more and more interest in it, more and more
relish to it! I wish I could live forever, I wish I could act all the
time!" The old man smacked his lips, rubbed his hands, and his small
eyes gleamed greedily.

"But you are a thin-blooded lot! Ere you have grown up you are already
overgrown and withered. You live like an old radish. And the fact that
life is growing fairer and fairer is incomprehensible to you. I have
lived sixty-seven years on this earth, and though I am now standing
close to my grave I can see that in former years, when I was young,
there were fewer flowers on earth, and the flowers were not quite as
beautiful as they are now. Everything is growing more beautiful! What
buildings we have now! What different trade implements. What huge
steamers! A world of brains has been put into everything! You look and
think; what clever fellows you are--Oh people! You merit reward and
respect! You've arranged life cleverly. Everything is good,