in. "Well, you are young folks, you can have books
in your hands."

"And do you not take interest in any of the societies?" Smolin asked
Lubov. "You have so many different societies here."

"Yes," said Lubov with a sigh, "but I live rather apart from
everything."

"Housekeeping!" interposed the father. "We have here such a store
of different things, everything has to be kept clean, in order, and
complete as to number."

With a self-satisfied air he nodded first at the table, which was set
with brilliant crystal and silverware, and then at the sideboard, whose
shelves were fairly breaking under the weight of the articles, and which
reminded one of the display in a store window. Smolin noted all these
and an ironical smile began to play upon his lips. Then he glanced at
Lubov's face: in his look she caught something friendly, sympathetic
to her. A faint flush covered her cheeks, and she said to herself with
timid joy:

"Thank God!"

The light of the heavy bronze lamp now seemed to flash more brilliantly
on the sides of the crystal vases, and it became brighter in the room.

"I like our dear old town!" said Smolin, looking at the girl with a
kindly smile, "it is so beautiful, so vigorous; there is cheerfulness
about it that inspires one to work. Its very picturesqueness is somewhat
stimulating. In it one feels like leading a dashing life. One feels like
working much and seriously. And then, it is an intelligent town. Just
see what a practical newspaper is published here. By the way, we intend
to purchase it."

"Whom do you mean by You?" asked Mayakin.

"I, Urvantzov, Shchukin--"

"That's praiseworthy!" said the old man, rapping the table with his
hand. "That's very practical! It is time to stop their mouths, it was
high time long ago! Particularly that Yozhov; he's like a sharp-toothed
saw. Just put the thumb-screw on him! And do it well!"

Smolin again cast at Lubov a smiling glance, and her heart trembled
with joy once more. With flushing face she said to her father, inwardly
addressing herself to the bridegroom:

"As far as I can understand, African Dmitreivich, he wishes to buy the
newspaper not at all for the sake of stopping its mouth as you say."

"What then can be done with it?" asked the old man, shrugging his
shoulders. "There's nothing in it but empty talk and agitation. Of
course, if the practical people, the merchants themselves, take to
writing for it--"

"The publication of a newspaper," b