his with reference to you; such persons as will
spend all their life in a certain languor of ennui, and get accustomed
to it, and exist in it like--like a mushroom in sour cream"
(Mikhalevich could not help laughing at his own comparison). "Oh, that
languor of ennui! it is the ruin of the Russian people. Throughout all
time the wretched marmot is making up its mind to work--"

"But, after all, what are you scolding about?" cried Lavretsky in his
turn. "To work, to do. You had better say what one should do, instead
of scolding, O Demosthenes of Poltava."[A]

[Footnote A: Poltava is a town of Little Russia. It will be remembered
that Mikhalovich is a Little Russian.]

"Ah, yes, that's what you want! No, brother, I will not tell you that.
Every one must teach himself that," replied Demosthenes in an ironical
tone. "A proprietor, a noble, and not know what to do! You have no
faith, or you would have known. No faith and no divination."[A]

[Footnote A: _Otkrovenie_, discovery or revelation.]

"At all events, let me draw breath for a moment, you fiend," prayed
Lavretsky. "Let me take a look round me!"

"Not a minute's breathing-time, not a second's," replied Mikhalevich,
with a commanding gesture of the hand. "Not a single second. Death
does not tarry, and life also ought not to tarry."

"And when and where have people taken it into their heads to make
marmots of themselves?" he cried at four in the morning, in a voice
that was now somewhat hoarse, "Why, here! Why, now! In Russia! When on
every separate individual there lies a duty, a great responsibility,
before God, before the nation, before himself! We sleep, but time goes
by. We sleep--"

"Allow me to point, out to you," observed Lavretsky, "that we do
not at all sleep at present, but rather prevent other persons from
sleeping. We stretch our throats like barn-door cocks. Listen, that
one is crowing for the third time."

This sally made Mikhalevich laugh, and sobered him down. "Good night,"
he said with a smile, and put away his pipe in its bag. "Good night,"
said Lavretsky also. However, the friends still went on talking for
more than an hour. But their voices did not rise high any longer, and
their talk was quiet, sad, kindly talk.

Mikhalevich went away next day, in spite of all his host could do to
detain him. Lavretsky did not succeed in persuading him to stay, but
he got as much talk as he wanted out of him.

It turned out that Mikhalevich was utterly i