"What's the matter? This is the matter: I understand it this way: One class of officials has grown weak, our class. Now another class gets the power over the people, that's all."
"And the result is—fiddlesticks!" said Maklakov, laughing.
Melnikov looked at him, and sighed:
"Don't lie, Timofey Vasilyevich. You lie out and out. You are a wise man, and you lie. I understand."
Thoughts instinctively arose in the dark depths of Yevsey's soul. He did not realize how they formed themselves, did not feel their secret growth. They appeared suddenly, in perfect array, and frightened him by their unexpected apparition. He endeavored to hide them, to extinguish them for a time, but unsuccessfully. They quietly flashed up again, and shone more clearly, though their light only cast life into still greater obscurity, The frequent conversations about the revolutionists blocked themselves up in his head, creating an insensible sediment in his mind, a thin strata of fresh soil for the growth of puny thoughts. These thoughts disquieted him, and drew him gently to something unknown.
CHAPTER XVIII
While on his way to Masha to take part in her birthday celebration, the thought occurred to Yevsey:
"I am going to get acquainted with the joiner to-day. He's a revolutionist."
Yevsey was the first guest to arrive. He gave Masha a string of blue beads, and Anfisa a shell comb. In return for the gifts, with which both were greatly pleased, they treated him to tea and nalivka (a sort of wine made of berries with whiskey or water). Masha prettily arching her full white neck looked into his face with a kind smile. Her glance softly caressed his heart, enlivened and emboldened him. Anfisa poured the tea and said winking her eyes:
"Well, merchant, you are our generous donor. When will we celebrate your wedding?"