e six oxen, and they keep a couple of
labourers. I was in love, friends, as though I were plague-stricken.
I couldn't sleep or eat; my brain was full of thoughts, and in such
a maze, Lord preserve us! I longed to see her, and she was in
Demidovo. What do you think? God be my witness, I am not lying,
three times a week I walked over there on foot just to have a look
at her. I gave up my work! I was so frantic that I even wanted to
get taken on as a labourer in Demidovo, so as to be near her. I was
in misery! My mother called in a witch a dozen times; my father
tried thrashing me. For three years I was in this torment, and then
I made up my mind. 'Damn my soul!' I said. 'I will go to the town
and be a cabman. . . . It seems it is fated not to be.' At Easter
I went to Demidovo to have a last look at her. . . ."

Konstantin threw back his head and went off into a mirthful tinkling
laugh, as though he had just taken someone in very cleverly.

"I saw her by the river with the lads," he went on. "I was overcome
with anger. . . . I called her aside and maybe for a full hour I
said all manner of things to her. She fell in love with me! For
three years she did not like me! she fell in love with me for what
I said to her. . . ."

"What did you say to her?" asked Dymov.

"What did I say? I don't remember. . . How could one remember? My
words flowed at the time like water from a tap, without stopping
to take breath. Ta-ta-ta! And now I can't utter a word. . . . Well,
so she married me. . . . She's gone now to her mother's, the magpie,
and while she is away here I wander over the steppe. I can't stay
at home. It's more than I can do!"

Konstantin awkwardly released his feet, on which he was sitting,
stretched himself on the earth, and propped his head in his fists,
then got up and sat down again. Everyone by now thoroughly understood
that he was in love and happy, poignantly happy; his smile, his
eyes, and every movement, expressed fervent happiness. He could not
find a place for himself, and did not know what attitude to take
to keep himself from being overwhelmed by the multitude of his
delightful thoughts. Having poured out his soul before these
strangers, he settled down quietly at last, and, looking at the
fire, sank into thought.

At the sight of this happy man everyone felt depressed and longed
to be happy, too. Everyone was dreamy. Dymov got up, walked about
softly by the fire, and from his walk, from the movement of