itable. Now, you are
fond of the theatre, and are so good at history," she said, addressing
Yartsev. "Write an historical play for us."

"Well, I might."

The men drank up all the brandy, and prepared to go.

It was past ten, and for summer-villa people that was late.

"How dark it is! One can't see a bit," said Yulia, as she went with
them to the gate. "I don't know how you'll find your way. But, isn't
it cold?"

She wrapped herself up more closely and walked back to the porch.

"I suppose my Alexey's playing cards somewhere," she called to them.
"Good-night!"

After the lighted rooms nothing could be seen. Yartsev and Kostya
groped their way like blind men to the railway embankment and crossed
it.

"One can't see a thing," said Kostya in his bass voice, standing
still and gazing at the sky. "And the stars, the stars, they are
like new three-penny-bits. Gavrilitch!"

"Ah?" Yartsev responded somewhere in the darkness.

"I say, one can't see a thing. Where are you?"

Yartsev went up to him whistling, and took his arm.

"Hi, there, you summer visitors!" Kostya shouted at the top of his
voice. "We've caught a socialist."

When he was exhilarated he was always very rowdy, shouting, wrangling
with policemen and cabdrivers, singing, and laughing violently.

"Nature be damned," he shouted.

"Come, come," said Yartsev, trying to pacify him. "You mustn't.
Please don't."

Soon the friends grew accustomed to the darkness, and were able to
distinguish the outlines of the tall pines and telegraph posts.
From time to time the sound of whistles reached them from the station
and the telegraph wires hummed plaintively. From the copse itself
there came no sound, and there was a feeling of pride, strength,
and mystery in its silence, and on the right it seemed that the
tops of the pines were almost touching the sky. The friends found
their path and walked along it. There it was quite dark, and it was
only from the long strip of sky dotted with stars, and from the
firmly trodden earth under their feet, that they could tell they
were walking along a path. They walked along side by side in silence,
and it seemed to both of them that people were coming to meet them.
Their tipsy exhilaration passed off. The fancy came into Yartsev's
mind that perhaps that copse was haunted by the spirits of the
Muscovite Tsars, boyars, and patriarchs, and he was on the point
of telling Kostya about it, but he checked himself.

When they