STRANGE was the state of Nejdanov’s soul. In the last two days so many new sensations, new faces. . . . For the first time in his life he had come in close contact with a girl whom in all probability he loved. He was present at the beginning of the movement for which in all probability he was to devote his whole life. . . . Well? Was he glad? No. . . . Was he wavering? Was he afraid? Confused? Oh, certainly not! Did he at any rate feel that straining of the whole being, that longing to be among the first ranks, which is always inspired by the first approach of the battle? Again, No. Did he really believe in this cause? Did he believe in his love? “Oh, cursed aesthetic! Sceptic!” his lips murmured inaudibly. Why this weariness, this disinclination to speak, unless it be shouting or raving? What is this inner voice that he wishes to drown by his shrieking? But Mariana, this delightful, faithful comrade, this pure, passionate soul, this wonderful girl, does she not love him indeed? And these two beings in front of him, this Markelov and Solomin, whom he as yet knew but little, but to whom he was attracted so much, were they not excellent types of the Russian people — of Russian life — and was it not a happiness in itself to be closely connected with them? Then why this vague, uneasy, gnawing sensation? Why this sadness? If you’re such a melancholy dreamer, his lips murmured again, what sort of a revolutionist will you make? You ought to write verses, languish, nurse your own insignificant thoughts and sensations, amuse yourself with psychological fancies and subtleties of all sorts, but don’t at any rate mistake your sickly, nervous irritability and caprices for the manly wrath, the honest anger, of a man of convictions! 0h Hamlet! Hamlet! Thou Prince of Denmark! How escape from the shadow of thy spirit? How cease to imitate thee in everything, even to revelling shamelessly in one’s own self-depreciation? Just then, as the echo of his own thoughts, he heard a familiar squeaky voice exclaim, “Alexai! Alexai! Hamlet of Russia! Is it you I behold?” and raising his eyes, to his great astonishment, saw Paklin standing before him! Paklin, in Arcadian attire, consisting of a summer suit of flesh-colour, without a tie, a large straw hat, trimmed with pale blue ribbon, pushed to the back of his head, and patent shoes!
He limped up to Nejdanov quickly and seized his hand.
“In the first place,” he began, “although we are in the public garden, we must for the sake of old times embrace and kiss.. . One! two! three! Secondly, I must tell you, that had I not run across you to-day you would most certainly have seen me tomorrow. I know where you live and have come to this town expressly to see you . . . how and why I will tell you later. Thirdly, introduce me to your friends. Tell me briefly who they are, and tell them who I am, and then let us proceed to enjoy ourselves!
Nejdanov responded to his friend’s request, introduced them to each other, explaining who each was, where he lived, his profession, and so on.
“Splendid!” Paklin exclaimed. “And now let me lead you all far from the crowd, though there is not much of it here, certainly, to a secluded seat, where I sit in hours of contemplation enjoying nature. We will get a magnificent view of the governor’s house, two striped sentry boxes, three gendarmes, and not a single dog! Don’t be too much surprised at the volubility of my remarks with which I am trying so hard to amuse you. According to my friends, I am the representative of Russian wit . . . probably that is why I am lame.”
Paklin conducted the friends to the “secluded seat” and made them sit down, after having first got rid of two beggar women installed on it. Then the young people proceeded to “exchange ideas,” a rather dull occupation mostly, particularly at the beginning, and a fruitless one generally.
“Stop a moment!” Paklin exclaimed, turning to Nejdanov, “I must first tell you why I’ve come here. You know that I usually take my sister away somewhere every summer, and when I heard that you were coming to this neighbourhood I remembered there were two wonderful creatures living in this very town, husband and wife, distant relations of ours . . . on our mother’s side. My father came from the lower middle class and my mother was of noble blood.” (Nejdanov knew this, but Paklin mentioned the fact for the benefit of the others.) “These people have for a long time been asking us to come and see them. Why not? I thought. It’s just what I want. They’re the kindest creatures and it will do my sister no end of good. What could be better? And so here we are. And really I can’t tell you how jolly it is for us here! They’re such dears! Such original types! You must certainly get to know them! What are you doing here? Where are you going to dine? And why did you come here of all places?”
“We are going to dine with a certain Golushkin — a merchant here,” Nejdanov replied.
“At what time? ”
“At three o’clock.”
“Are you going to see him on account . . . on account —”
Paklin looked at Solomin who was smiling and at Markelov who sat enveloped in his gloom.
“Come, Ali............