nsisted on reading
it in every drawing room in St. Petersburg. There was one rather good
sentence in it about our liberated serf, who was to march over the face
of the fatherland bearing a torch in his hand. You should have seen our
dear Alexai Ivanovitch, blowing out his cheeks and blinking his little
eyes, pronounce in his babyish voice, 'T-torch! t-torch! Will march with
a t-torch!' Well, the emancipation is now an established fact, but where
is the peasant with the torch?

"Tveritinov was only slightly wrong," Kollomietzev said solemnly. "Not
the peasants will march with the torch, but others."

At the words, Nejdanov, who until then had scarcely noticed Mariana, who
sat a little to one side, exchanged glances with her, and instantly felt
that this solemn girl and he were of the same convictions, of the same
stamp. She had made no impression on him whatever when Sipiagin
had introduced them; then why did he exchange glances with her in
particular? He wondered if it was not disgraceful to sit and listen
to such views without protesting and by reason of his silence letting
others think that he shared them. Nejdanov looked at Mariana a second
time, and her eyes seemed to say, "Wait a while... the time is not ripe.
It isn't worth it... later on... there is plenty of time in store."

He was happy to think that she understood him, and began following the
conversation again. Valentina Mihailovna supported her husband, and was,
if anything, even more radical in her expressions than he. She could not
understand, "simply could not un-der-stand, how an educated young man
could hold such antiquated views."

"However," she added, "I am convinced that you only say these things for
the sake of argument. And you, Alexai Dmitritch," she added to Nejdanov,
with a smile (he wondered how she had learned his Christian name and
his father's name), "I know, do not share Simion Petrovitch's fears; my
husband told me about your talks on the journey."

Nejdanov blushed, bent over his plate, and mumbled something; he did not
feel shy, but was simply unaccustomed to conversing with such brilliant
personages. Madame Sipiagin continued smiling to him; her husband nodded
his head patronisingly. Kollomietzev stuck his monocle between his
eyebrow and nose and stared at the student who dared not to share his
"fears." But it was difficult to embarrass Nejdanov in this way; on the
contrary, he instantly sat up straight, and in his turn fixed his