f
withdrawing from the noise and show of the world, I understand
perfectly; for, first of all--"

She made a gesture of contempt with her hand.

"All the honors, the glitter, the luxury, etc., are gates 'before
which men with spades are standing;' this means that behind them
we find dust, emptiness, nothing."

"Great God!" exclaimed Darvid.

"What do you say, father?" inquired she.

"Your age, the brilliant position in which you have lived since
childhood--and this disenchantment."

"Just this brilliant position, father--just because of this
brilliant position, perhaps. We are not talking of me,
however--but because of this, which in me you call
disenchantment, I am able to understand mamma's wish to leave
society, all the more because, if I were in her position, all
homage, show, luxury, amusements would for me be as impossible as
they are for her. This depends on character. Moreover, mamma
remembers that everything which she uses is yours, and the use of
it attended by your contempt, and the evident impossibility of
ever coming to any understanding is such a poison--so I beg you
to give me Krynichna. I am your daughter, and, as it seems to me,
you have no thought of disinheriting me, so if I own Krynichna,
mamma will live with me and receive everything from me alone."

Her voice grew weaker, and her posture less constrained, in her
whole form there was an expression of suffering. Everything which
she said cost her, in spite of appearances to the contrary, much
effort and suffering. Darvid was silent a while, then he said:

"It seems to me that I am Ali Baba, listening to the tales of
Sheherazade. If I should agree to your plan what would you do
there?"

"I do not know clearly as yet. This is mamma's idea; her wish;
she will discover more and tell me. We will examine; we shall
see. Into mamma's plans, besides quiet obscurity, and modesty of
life, labor enters also."

She spoke in a low, wearied voice:

"An idyl!" laughed Darvid.

"An idyl, father; I used to laugh at all idyls without knowing
that I had one in myself. It has saved me from many, and,
perhaps, dreadful things. Yes, I have an idyl: I love mamma."

Then her thin lips, famous in society for their precocious,
bitter irony, quivered as do those of children when preparing to
cry.

Darvid turned to her quickly, and said with a prolonged hiss:

"Why?"

She raised sad eyes to him, and with a voice in which Malvina's
sweet tones were heard,