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‘You will dine with us?’ Nenila Makarievna asked Kister.

Masha turned away.

‘No,’ Kister said hurriedly, and he glanced towards Masha. ‘Excuse me… duties of the service…’

Nenila Makarievna duly expressed her regret. Mr. Perekatov, following her lead, also expressed something or other. ‘I don’t want to be in the way,’ Kister wanted to say to Masha, as he passed her, but he bowed down and whispered instead: ‘Be happy… farewell… take care of yourself…’ and was gone.

Masha heaved a sigh from the bottom of her heart, and then felt panic-stricken at his departure. What was it fretting her? Love or curiosity? God knows; but, we repeat, curiosity alone was enough to ruin Eve.

VIII

Long Meadow was the name of a wide, level stretch of ground on the right of the little stream Sniezhinka, nearly a mile from the Perekatovs’ property. The left bank, completely covered by thick young oak bushes, rose steeply up over the stream, which was almost overgrown with willow bushes, except for some small ‘breeding-places,’ the haunts of wild ducks. Half a mile from the stream, on the right side of Long Meadow, began the sloping, undulating uplands, studded here and there with old birch-trees, nut bushes, and guelder-roses.

The sun was setting. The mill rumbled and clattered in the distance, sounding louder or softer according to the wind. The seignorial drove of horses was lazily wandering about the meadows; a shepherd walked, humming a tune, after a flock of greedy and timorous sheep; the sheepdogs, from boredom, were running after the crows. Lutchkov walked up and down in the copse, with his arms folded. His horse, tied up near by, more than once whinnied in response to the sonorous neighing of the mares and fillies in the meadow. Avdey was ill-tempered and shy, as usual. Not yet convinced of Masha’s love, he felt wrathful with her and annoyed with himself… but his excitement smothered his annoyance. He stopped at last before a large nut bush, and began with his riding-whip switching off the leaves at the ends of the twigs….

He heard a light rustle… he raised his head…. Ten paces from him stood Masha, all flushed from her rapid walk, in a hat, but with no gloves, in a white dress, with a hastily tied kerchief round her neck. She dropped her eyes instantly, and softly nodded….

Avdey went awkwardly up to her with a forced smile.

‘How happy I am…’ he was beginning, scarcely audibly.

‘I am very glad… to meet you…’ Masha interrupted breathlessly. ‘I usually walk here in the evening… and you…’

But Lutchkov had not the sense even to spare her modesty, to keep up her innocent deception.

‘I believe, Marya Sergievna,’ he pronounced with dignity, ‘you yourself suggested…’

‘Yes… yes…’ rejoined Masha hurriedly. ‘You wished to see me, you wanted…’ Her voice died away.

Lutchkov did not speak. Masha timidly raised her eyes.

‘Excuse me,’ he began, not looking at her, ‘I’m a plain man, and not used to talking freely… to ladies… I… I wished to tell you… but, I fancy, you ‘re not in the humour to listen to me….’

‘Speak.’

‘Since you tell me to… well, then, I tell you frankly that for a long while now, ever since I had the honour of making your acquaintance…’

Avdey stopped. Masha waited for the conclusion of his sentence.

‘I don’t know, though, what I’m telling you all this for…. There’s no changing one’s destiny…’

‘How can one know?…’

‘I know!’ responded Avdey gloomily. ‘I am used to facing its blows!’

It struck Masha that this was not exactly the befitting moment for Lutchkov to rail against destiny.

‘There are kind-hearted people in the world,’ she observed with a smile; ‘some even too kind….’

‘I understand you, Marya Sergievna, and believe me, I appreciate your friendliness… I… I… You won’t be angry?’

‘No…. What do you want to say?’

‘I want to say… that I think you charming… Marya Sergievna, awfully charming….’

‘I am very grateful to you,’ Masha interrupted him; her heart was aching with anticipation and terror. ‘Ah, do look, Mr. Lutchkov,’ she went on–‘look, what a view!’