er most intimate and
treasured possessions, so that perhaps it was only on this account that
she had designed for Stepan Trofimovitch a costume somewhat like the
poet's in the engraving. But that, of course, is a trifling matter too.

For the first years or, more accurately, for the first half of the time
he spent with Varvara Petrovna, Stepan Trofimovitch was still planning a
book and every day seriously prepared to write it. But during the later
period he must have forgotten even what he had done. More and more
frequently he used to say to us:

"I seem to be ready for work, my materials are collected, yet the work
doesn't get done! Nothing is done!"

And he would bow his head dejectedly. No doubt this was calculated
to increase his prestige in our eyes as a martyr to science, but he
himself was longing for something else. "They have forgotten me! I'm
no use to anyone!" broke from him more than once. This intensified
depression took special hold of him towards the end of the fifties.
Varvara Petrovna realised at last that it was a serious matter. Besides,
she could not endure the idea that her friend was forgotten and useless.
To distract him and at the same time to renew his fame she carried him
off to Moscow, where she had fashionable acquaintances in the
literary and scientific world; but it appeared that Moscow too was
unsatisfactory.

It was a peculiar time; something new was beginning, quite unlike the
stagnation of the past, something very strange too, though it was felt
everywhere, even at Skvoreshniki. Rumours of all sorts reached us. The
facts were generally more or less well known, but it was evident that
in addition to the facts there were certain ideas accompanying them,
and what's more, a great number of them. And this was perplexing. It was
impossible to estimate and find out exactly what was the drift of these
ideas. Varvara Petrovna was prompted by the feminine composition of her
character to a compelling desire to penetrate the secret of them.
She took to reading newspapers and magazines, prohibited publications
printed abroad and even the revolutionary manifestoes which were just
beginning to appear at the time (she was able to procure them all); but
this only set her head in a whirl. She fell to writing letters; she got
few answers, and they grew more incomprehensible as time went on. Stepan
Trofimovitch was solemnly called upon to explain "these ideas" to
her once for all, but she remained dist