e. It all seemed poor and decaying, not exactly as if it had been
allowed to run wild, but as though it had never flourished, like a young
tree that had not taken root well.

When Nejdanov went downstairs, Mashurina was sitting in the dining room
at the samovar, evidently waiting for him. She told him that Ostrodumov
had gone away on business, in connection with the cause, and would not
be back for about a fortnight, and that their host had gone to look
after his peasants. As it was already at the end of May, and there was
no urgent work to be done, Markelov had thought of felling a small birch
wood, with such means as he had at his command, and had gone down there
to see after it.

Nejdanov felt a strange weariness at heart. So much had been said the
night before about the impossibility of holding back any longer, about
the necessity of making a beginning. "But how could one begin, now, at
once?" he asked himself. It was useless talking it over with Mashurina,
there was no hesitation for her. She knew that she had to go to K., and
beyond that she did not look ahead. Nejdanov was at a loss to know what
to say to her, and as soon as he finished his tea took his hat and went
out in the direction of the birch wood. On the way he fell in with some
peasants carting manure, a few of Markelov's former serfs. He entered
into conversation with them, but was very little the wiser for it. They,
too, seemed weary, but with a normal physical weariness, quite unlike
the sensation experienced by him. They spoke of their master as a
kind-hearted gentleman, but rather odd, and predicted his ruin, because
he would go his own way, instead of doing as his forefathers had done
before him. "And he's so clever, you know, you can't understand what he
says, however hard you may try. But he's a good sort." A little farther
on Nejdanov came across Markelov himself.

He as surrounded by a whole crowd of labourers, and one could see from
the distance that he was trying to explain something to them as hard as
he could, but suddenly threw up his arms in despair, as if it were of
no use. His bailiff, a small, short-sighted young man without a trace of
authority or firmness in his bearing, was walking beside him, and merely
kept on repeating, "Just so, sir," to Markelov's great disgust, who had
expected more independence from him. Nejdanov went up to Markelov, and
on looking into his face was struck by the same expression of spiritual
weariness he wa