The breeze blew at that moment, there was a rustle in the foliage and a little bird suddenly began to chirp away somewhere—and it seemed as if the depressed garden were glad because of these lively, resonant, quickly uttered words.
“Who?” asked Elena.
The insincerity of her question made her flush quite suddenly. She knew very well whom Elisaveta meant. The latter glanced at her and said:
“Trirodov, of course. It is strange that we should be waiting for him.”
“I think he promised to come,” said Elena indecisively.
“Yes,” answered Elisaveta, “I think he said something at that strange mirror.”
“It was earlier,” observed Elena.
“Yes, I am mixing it all up,” said Elisaveta. “I don’t understand how I could forget so quickly.”
“I too am tangling things up badly,” confessed Elena, astonished at herself. “I feel very tired, I don’t know why.”
The soft noise of wheels over a sandy road grew closer and closer. At last a light trap, drawn by a horse in English harness, could be seen turning into the alley of birches and stopping before the house. The sisters rose nervously. Their faces wore their habitually pleasant smiles and their hands did not tremble.