mply like a peasant?"

"Why?" Nejdanov began. He certainly did look like some sort of
fishmonger in that garb, was conscious of it himself, and was annoyed
and embarrassed at heart. He felt uncomfortable, and not knowing what to
do with his hands, kept patting himself on the breast with the fingers
outspread, as though he were brushing himself.

"Because as a peasant I should have been recognised at once Pavel says,
and that in this costume I look as if I had been born to it ... which is
not very flattering to my vanity, by the way."

"Are you going to begin at once?" Mariana asked eagerly.

"Yes, I shall try, though in reality--"

"You are lucky!" Mariana interrupted him.

"This Pavel is a wonderful fellow," Nejdanov continued. "He can see
through and through you in a second, and will suddenly screw up his face
as if he knew nothing, and would not interfere with anything for the
world. He works for the cause himself, yet laughs at it the whole time.
He brought me the books from Markelov; he knows him and calls him Sergai
Mihailovitch; and as for Solomin, he would go through fire and water for
him."

"And so would Tatiana," Mariana observed. "Why are people so devoted to
him?"

Nejdanov did not reply.

"What sort of books did Pavel bring you?" Mariana asked.

"Oh, nothing new. 'The Story of the Four Brothers,' and then the
ordinary, well-known ones, which are far better I think."

Mariana looked around uneasily.

"I wonder what has become of Tatiana? She promised to come early."

"Here I am!" Tatiana exclaimed, coming in with a bundle in her hand. She
had heard Mariana's exclamation from behind the door.

"There's plenty of time. See what I've brought you!"

Mariana flew towards her.

"Have you brought it?"

Tatiana patted the bundle.

"Everything is here, quite ready. You have only to put the things on and
go out to astonish the world."

"Come along, come along, Tatiana Osipovna, you are a dear--"

Mariana led her off to her own room.

Left alone, Nejdanov walked up and down the room once or twice with a
peculiarly shuffling gait (he imagined that all shopkeepers walked like
that), then he carefully sniffed at this sleeves, the inside of his cap,
made a grimace, looked at himself in the little looking-glass hanging in
between the windows, and shook his head; he certainly did not look very
prepossessing. "So much the better," he thought. Then he took several
pamphlets, thrust them into his sid