hey would. And Nejdanov... poor
Nejdanov! I suppose you know--"

"Yes, I know," Mashurina interrupted him, still looking away.

"And do you know about Ostrodumov too?"

Mashurina merely nodded her head. She wanted him to go on talking about
Nejdanov, but could not bring herself to ask him. He understood her,
however.

"I was told that he mentioned you in the letter he left. Was it true?

"Yes," Mashurina replied after a pause.

"What a splendid chap he was! He didn't fall into the right rut somehow.
He was about as fitted to be a revolutionist as I am! Do you know what
he really was? The idealist of realism. Do you understand me?"

Mashurina flung him a rapid glance. She did not understand him and did
not want to understand him. It seemed to her impertinent that he should
compare himself to Nejdanov. "Let him brag!" she thought, though he was
not bragging at all, but rather depreciating himself, according to his
own ideas.

"Some fellow called Silin sought me out; Nejdanov, it seems, had left
a letter for him too. Well, he wanted to know if Alexai had left any
papers, but we hunted through all his things and found nothing. He
must have burned everything, even his poems. Did you know that he wrote
verses? I'm sorry they were destroyed; there must have been some good
things among them. They all vanished with him--became lost in the
general whirl, dead and gone for ever. Nothing was left except the
memories of his friends--until they, too, vanish in their turn!"

Paklin ceased.

"Do you remember the Sipiagins?" he began again; "those respectable,
patronising, loathsome swells are now at the very height of power and
glory." Mashurina, of course, did not remember the Sipiagins, but Paklin
hated them so much that he could not keep from abusing them on every
possible occasion. "They say there's such a high tone in their house!
they're always talking about virtue! It's a bad sign, I think. Reminds
me rather of an over-scented sick room. There must be some bad smell to
conceal. Poor Alexai! It was they who ruined him!"

"And what is Solomin doing?" Mashurina asked. She had suddenly ceased
wishing to hear Paklin talk about him.

"Solomin!" Paklin exclaimed. "He's a clever chap! turned out well too.
He's left the old factory and taken all the best men with him. There was
one fellow there called Pavel--could do anything; he's taken him along
too. They say he has a small factory of his own now, somewhere near
Perm, ru