ollomietzev also drank a glass and praised it highly.

Markelov payed no special attention to Kollomietzev's talk, but glanced
interrogatively at Nejdanov once or twice; he flicked one of his little
bread pills, which just missed the nose of the eloquent guest.

Sipiagin left his brother-in-law in peace; neither did Valentina
Mihailovna speak to him; it was evident that both husband and wife
considered Markelov an eccentric sort of person whom it was better not
to provoke.

After dinner Markelov went into the billiard room to smoke a pipe, and
Nejdanov withdrew into his own room.

In the corridor he ran against Mariana. He wanted to slip past her, when
she stopped him with a quick movement of the hand.

"Mr. Nejdanov," she said in a somewhat unsteady tone of voice, "it ought
to be all the same to me what you think of me, but still I find it... I
find it..." (she could not think of a fitting word) "I find it necessary
to tell you that when you met me in the wood today with Mr. Markelov...
you must no doubt have thought, when you saw us both confused, that we
had come there by appointment."

"It did seem a little strange to me--" Nejdanov began. "Mr. Markelov,"
Mariana interrupted him, "proposed to me... and I refused him. That is
all I wanted to say to you. Goodnight. Think what you like of me."

She turned away and walked quickly down the corridor.

Nejdanov entered his own room and sat down by the window musing. "What
a strange girl--why this wild issue, this uninvited explanation? Is it a
desire to be original, or simply affectation--or pride? Pride, no doubt.
She can't endure the idea... the faintest suspicion, that anyone should
have a wrong opinion of her. What a strange girl!"

Thus Nejdanov pondered, while he was being discussed on the terrace
below; every word could be heard distinctly.

"I have a feeling," Kollomietzev declared, "a feeling, that he's
a revolutionist. When I served on a special commission at the
governor-general's of Moscow avec Ladisias, I learned to scent these
gentlemen as well as nonconformists. I believe in instinct above
everything." Here Kollomietzev related how he had once caught an old
sectarian by the heel somewhere near Moscow, on whom he had looked in,
accompanied by the police, and who nearly jumped out of his cottage
window. "He was sitting quite quietly on his bench until that moment,
the blackguard!"

Kollomietzev forgot to add that this old man, when put into prison,