nt moment. Of course
everything might be put in: strange incidents, fires, public
subscriptions, anything good or bad, every speech or word, perhaps even
floodings of the rivers, perhaps even some government decrees, but
only such things to be selected as are characteristic of the period;
everything would be put in with a certain view, a special significance
and intention, with an idea which would illuminate the facts looked
at in the aggregate, as a whole. And finally the book ought to be
interesting even for light reading, apart from its value as a work of
reference. It would be, so to say, a presentation of the spiritual,
moral, inner life of Russia for a whole year.

"We want every one to buy it, we want it to be a book that will be found
on every table," Liza declared. "I understand that all lies in the plan,
and that's why I apply to you," she concluded. She grew very warm over
it, and although her explanation was obscure and incomplete, Shatov
began to understand.

"So it would amount to something with a political tendency, a selection
of facts with a special tendency," he muttered, still not raising his
head.

"Not at all, we must not select with a particular bias, and we ought
not to have any political tendency in it. Nothing but impartiality--that
will be the only tendency."

"But a tendency would be no harm," said Shatov, with a slight movement,
"and one can hardly avoid it if there is any selection at all. The very
selection of facts will suggest how they are to be understood. Your idea
is not a bad one."

"Then such a book is possible?" cried Liza delightedly.

"We must look into it and consider. It's an immense undertaking. One
can't work it out on the spur of the moment. We need experience. And
when we do publish the book I doubt whether we shall find out how to
do it. Possibly after many trials; but the thought is alluring. It's a
useful idea."

He raised his eyes at last, and they were positively sparkling with
pleasure, he was so interested.

"Was it your own idea?" he asked Liza, in a friendly and, as it were,
bashful way.

"The idea's no trouble, you know, it's the plan is the trouble," Liza
smiled. "I understand very little. I am not very clever, and I only
pursue what is clear to me, myself...."

"Pursue?"

"Perhaps that's not the right word?" Liza inquired quickly.

"The word is all right; I meant nothing."

"I thought while I was abroad that even I might be of some use. I have