om the trees, the carriage came upon a small low farm house. Three
illuminated windows stood out sharply on the front of the house, which
shut out the moon's disc; the wide, open gate looked as if it was never
shut. Two white stage-horses, attached to the back of a high trap, were
standing in the courtyard, half in obscurity; two puppies, also white,
rushed out from somewhere and gave forth piercing, though harmless,
barks. People were seen moving in the house--the carriage rolled up to
the doorstep, and Markelov, climbing out and feeling with difficulty for
the iron carriage step, put on, as is usually the case, by the domestic
blacksmith in the most inconvenient possible place, said to Nejdanov:
"Here we are at home. You will find guests here whom you know very well,
but little expect to meet. Come in."

XI

THE guests turned out to be no other than our old friends Mashurina and
Ostrodumov. They were both sitting in the poorly-furnished drawing
room of Markelov's house, smoking and drinking beer by the light of
a kerosene lamp. Neither of them showed the least astonishment when
Nejdanov came in, knowing beforehand that Markelov had intended bringing
him back, but Nejdanov was very much surprised on seeing them. On his
entrance Ostrodumov merely muttered "Good evening," whilst Mashurina
turned scarlet and extended her hand. Markelov began to explain that
they had come from St. Petersburg about a week ago, Ostrodumov to remain
in the province for some time for propaganda purposes, while Mashurina
was to go on to K. to meet someone, also in connection with the cause.
He then went on to say that the time had now come for them to do
something practical, and became suddenly heated, although no one had
contradicted him. He bit his lips, and in a hoarse, excited tone of
voice began condemning the horrors that were taking place, saying that
everything was now in readiness for them to start, that none but cowards
could hold back, that a certain amount of violence was just as necessary
as the prick of the lancet to the abscess, however ripe it might be! The
lancet simile was not original, but one that he had heard somewhere. He
seemed to like it, and made use of it on every possible occasion.

Losing all hope of Mariana's love, it seemed that he no longer cared
for anything, and was only eager to get to work, to enter the field of
action as soon as possible. He spoke harshly, angrily, but straight to
the point like the b