n earth was truth and justice, and
that his salvation, and that of the whole people, was only to be
found in truth and justice, and so more than anything in the world
he loved just dealing. I told my wife she saw the spots on the
glass, but not the glass itself; she said nothing in reply, or
hummed like Stepan "oo-loo-loo-loo." When this good-hearted and
clever woman turned pale with indignation, and with a quiver in her
voice spoke to the doctor of the drunkenness and dishonesty, it
perplexed me, and I was struck by the shortness of her memory. How
could she forget that her father the engineer drank too, and drank
heavily, and that the money with which Dubetchnya had been bought
had been acquired by a whole series of shameless, impudent dishonesties?
How could she forget it?

XIV

My sister, too, was leading a life of her own which she carefully
hid from me. She was often whispering with Masha. When I went up
to her she seemed to shrink into herself, and there was a guilty,
imploring look in her eyes; evidently there was something going on
in her heart of which she was afraid or ashamed. So as to avoid
meeting me in the garden, or being left alone with me, she always
kept close to Masha, and I rarely had an opportunity of talking to
her except at dinner.

One evening I was walking quietly through the garden on my way back
from the building. It was beginning to get dark. Without noticing
me, or hearing my step, my sister was walking near a spreading old
apple-tree, absolutely noiselessly as though she were a phantom.
She was dressed in black, and was walking rapidly backwards and
forwards on the same track, looking at the ground. An apple fell
from the tree; she started at the sound, stood still and pressed
her hands to her temples. At that moment I went up to her.

In a rush of tender affection which suddenly flooded my heart, with
tears in my eyes, suddenly remembering my mother and our childhood,
I put my arm round her shoulders and kissed her.

"What is the matter?" I asked her. "You are unhappy; I have seen
it for a long time. Tell me what's wrong?"

"I am frightened," she said, trembling.

"What is it?" I insisted. "For God's sake, be open!"

"I will, I will be open; I will tell you the whole truth. To hide
it from you is so hard, so agonizing. Misail, I love . . ." she
went on in a whisper, "I love him . . . I love him. . . . I am
happy, but why am I so frightened?"

There was the sound of footsteps;