Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume VI).djvu/150

Rh 'And who is this Kislyakov?' cried Nezhdanov impatiently.

Markelov smiled significantly, and said that he was a man such a man.

'I know him very little, though,' he added; 'I have only seen him twice altogether. But the letters that man writes! such letters!! I will show you them. You will be astonished. Such fire! And his activity! Five or six times he has raced right across Russia and back and from every station a letter of ten-twelve pages!'

Nezhdanov looked inquiringly at Ostrodumov, but he sat like a statue, not an eyebrow twitching, while Mashurina's lips were compressed in a bitter smile, but she, too, was dumb as a fish. Nezhdanov tried to question Markelov about his reforms in a socialistic direction on his estate but at this Ostrodumov interposed.

'What's the good of discussing that now?' he observed. 'It makes no difference; everything must be transformed afterwards.'

The conversation turned again into a political channel. Nezhdanov was still devoured by a secret worm gnawing within; but the keener the inward torture, the more loudly and positively he spoke. He had drunk only one glass of beer, but from time to time it struck