g
for him to speak.

And he knew what to say to her. It was clear to him that she needed
as quickly as possible to give up the five buildings and the million
if she had it--to leave that devil that looked out at night; it
was clear to him, too, that she thought so herself, and was only
waiting for some one she trusted to confirm her.

But he did not know how to say it. How? One is shy of asking men
under sentence what they have been sentenced for; and in the same
way it is awkward to ask very rich people what they want so much
money for, why they make such a poor use of their wealth, why they
don't give it up, even when they see in it their unhappiness; and
if they begin a conversation about it themselves, it is usually
embarrassing, awkward, and long.

"How is one to say it?" Korolyov wondered. "And is it necessary to
speak?"

And he said what he meant in a roundabout way:

"You in the position of a factory owner and a wealthy heiress are
dissatisfied; you don't believe in your right to it; and here now
you can't sleep. That, of course, is better than if you were
satisfied, slept soundly, and thought everything was satisfactory.
Your sleeplessness does you credit; in any case, it is a good sign.
In reality, such a conversation as this between us now would have
been unthinkable for our parents. At night they did not talk, but
slept sound; we, our generation, sleep badly, are restless, but
talk a great deal, and are always trying to settle whether we are
right or not. For our children or grandchildren that question--
whether they are right or not--will have been settled. Things
will be clearer for them than for us. Life will be good in fifty
years' time; it's only a pity we shall not last out till then. It
would be interesting to have a peep at it."

"What will our children and grandchildren do?" asked Liza.

"I don't know. . . . I suppose they will throw it all up and go
away."

"Go where?"

"Where? . . . Why, where they like," said Korolyov; and he laughed.
"There are lots of places a good, intelligent person can go to."

He glanced at his watch.

"The sun has risen, though," he said. "It is time you were asleep.
Undress and sleep soundly. Very glad to have made your acquaintance,"
he went on, pressing her hand. "You are a good, interesting woman.
Good-night!"

He went to his room and went to bed.

In the morning when the carriage was brought round they all came
out on to the steps to see him off. L