. In fact,
they are no use for anything."

At last the train came in sight. Coils of perfectly pink smoke from
the funnels floated over the copse, and two windows in the last
compartment flashed so brilliantly in the sun, that it hurt their
eyes to look at it.

"Tea-time!" said Yulia Sergeyevna, getting up.

She had grown somewhat stouter of late, and her movements were
already a little matronly, a little indolent.

"It's bad to be without love though," said Yartsev, walking behind
her. "We talk and read of nothing else but love, but we do very
little loving ourselves, and that's really bad."

"All that's nonsense, Ivan Gavrilitch," said Yulia. "That's not
what gives happiness."

They had tea in the little garden, where mignonette, stocks, and
tobacco plants were in flower, and spikes of early gladiolus were
just opening. Yartsev and Kotchevoy could see from Yulia's face
that she was passing through a happy period of inward peace and
serenity, that she wanted nothing but what she had, and they, too,
had a feeling of peace and comfort in their hearts. Whatever was
said sounded apt and clever; the pines were lovely--the fragrance
of them was exquisite as it had never been before; and the cream
was very nice; and Sasha was a good, intelligent child.

After tea Yartsev sang songs, accompanying himself on the piano,
while Yulia and Kotchevoy sat listening in silence, though Yulia
got up from time to time, and went softly indoors, to take a look
at the baby and at Lida, who had been in bed for the last two days
feverish and eating nothing.

"My friend, my tender friend," sang Yartsev. "No, my friends, I'll
be hanged if I understand why you are all so against love!" he said,
flinging back his head. "If I weren't busy for fifteen hours of the
twenty-four, I should certainly fall in love."

Supper was served on the verandah; it was warm and still, but Yulia
wrapped herself in a shawl and complained of the damp. When it got
dark, she seemed not quite herself; she kept shivering and begging
her visitors to stay a little longer. She regaled them with wine,
and after supper ordered brandy to keep them from going. She didn't
want to be left alone with the children and the servants.

"We summer visitors are getting up a performance for the children,"
she said. "We have got everything--a stage and actors; we are
only at a loss for a play. Two dozen plays of different sorts have
been sent us, but there isn't one that is su