f weeping willows. The whole garden was
clothed in its first green leaves; the loud buzz of summer insects
was not yet heard; the leaves rustled gently, chaffinches twittered
everywhere; two doves sat cooing on a tree; the note of a solitary
cuckoo was heard first in one place, then in another; the friendly
cawing of rooks was carried from the distance beyond the mill pond,
sounding like the creaking of innumerable cart wheels. Light clouds
floated dreamily over this gentle stillness, spreading themselves out
like the breasts of some huge, lazy birds.

Nejdanov gazed and listened, drinking in the cool air through
half-parted lips.

His depression left him and a wonderful calmness entered his soul.

Meanwhile he was being discussed in the bedroom below. Sipiagin was
telling his wife how he had met him, what Prince G. had said of him, and
the gist of their talks on the journey.

"A clever chap!" he repeated, "and well educated, too. It's true he's a
revolutionist, but what does it matter? These people are ambitious, at
any rate. As for Kolia, he is too young to be spoiled by any of this
nonsense."

Valentina Mihailovna listened to her husband affectionately; an amused
smile played on her lips, as if he were telling her of some naughty
amusing prank. It was pleasant to her to think that her seigneur a
maitre, such a respectable man, of important position, could be as
mischievous as a boy of twenty. Standing before the looking-glass in a
snow-white shirt and blue silk braces, Sipiagin was brushing his hair
in the English fashion with two brushes, while Valentina Mihailovna, her
feet tucked under her, was sitting on a narrow Turkish couch, telling
him various news about the house, the paper mill, which, alas, was not
going well, as was to be expected; about the possibilities of changing
the cook, about the church, of which the plaster had come off; about
Mariana, Kollomietzev...

Between husband and wife there existed the fullest confidence and good
understanding; they certainly lived in "love and harmony," as people
used to say in olden days. When Sipiagin, after finishing his toilet,
asked chivalrously for his wife's hand and she gave him both, and
watched him with an affectionate pride as he kissed them in turn, the
feeling expressed in their faces was good and true, although in her it
shone out of a pair of eyes worthy of Raphael, and in him out of the
ordinary eyes of a mere official.

On the stroke of five Nej