“Write!” shouted Samoylenko; “it’s devilish weather for you to go in.”
“Yes, no one knows the real truth . . .” thought Laevsky, looking wearily at the dark, restless sea.
“It flings the boat back,” he thought; “she makes two steps forward and one step back; but the boatmen are stubborn, they work the oars unceasingly, and are not afraid of the high waves. The boat goes on and on. Now she is out of sight, but in half an hour the boatmen will see the steamer lights distinctly, and within an hour they will be by the steamer ladder. So it is in life. . . . In the search for truth man makes two steps forward and one step back. Suffering, mistakes, and weariness of life thrust them back, but the thirst for truth and stubborn will drive them on and on. And who knows? Perhaps they will reach the real truth at last.”
“Go—o—od-by—e,” shouted Samoylenko.
“There’s no sight or sound of them,” said the deacon. “Good luck on the journey!”
It began to spot with rain.
EXCELLENT PEOPLE
ONCE upon a time there lived in Moscow a man called Vladimir Semyonitch Liadovsky. He took his degree at the university in the faculty of law and had a post on the board of management of some railway; but if you had asked him what his work was, he would look candidly and openly at you with his large bright eyes through his gold pincenez, and would answer in a soft, velvety, lisping baritone: