Raisky looked away.
“And,” he added in a whisper, “I love her.”
It was plain that as his mind nourished itself on the books, so his heart had found a warm refuge; he himself did not even know what bound him to life and books, and did not guess that he might keep his books and lose his life, and that his life would be maimed if his “Roman head” was stolen from him.
Happy child, thought Raisky. In his learned sleep he does not notice the darkness that is hidden in that dear Roman head, nor how empty the woman’s heart is. He is helpless as far as she is concerned, and will never convince her of the virtues of the ancient ideals.
CHAPTER VIII
The sun was setting when Raisky returned home, and was received at the door by Marfinka.
“Where did you get lost, Cousin?” she asked him. “Grandmother is very angry, and is grumbling....”
“I was with Leonti,” returned Raisky indifferently.